Work Text:
How much more loss can you endure? How much more will be taken away from you?
And what is left of you?
Just a broken, pathetic man. A man who can’t even protect those he loves.
And what was even the point?
What’s the point of defending, trying, fighting, if in the end, it’s all the same- they are gone, and now he is gone, and you’re left behind.
Alone.
Weak.
Cold.
It’s only been a few days since the battle ended. A few days since you held him for the last time.
His blood covered lips tasted so bitter, and his beautiful dark eyes did not shine in hope for a better future. They did the opposite- they told you that the future they dreamt of was nothing but a delusion. Because in this world, no matter what or who you are, someone will always hate you. Someone will always haunt you down. No safe haven will save you, for no safe haven exists.
And you were a fool to trust his soothing words, his loving smile, his warm touch. The way he laughed, like he’s sure the sun will shine again, and the birds will sing. Like he already talked to the wind, and confirmed it will come tomorrow to play with the flowers and the grass.
All that just for a few days ago, when you held his hand without him holding back. You cried his name, begged, screamed on the top of your lungs till your throat burned, for no answer.
Your tears, mixed with the blood of your wounds, dripped down and wetted the crescent shaped scar on his cheek.
It’s been a few days, and look at you now.
You can’t even remember the days that have passed since then. It’s all hazy to you, and buried behind the sweet lies of the alcohol.
But now, all the bottles are empty, and you can’t even bring yourself to think about going to buy more. You can’t even go outside at all. Because the outside world is already focused on moving forward, healing wounds, rebuilding what has been destroyed.
Not you. You’re not doing any of that. You simply can’t.
Inside, his scent still lingers, and the bed he used to sleep on, while holding tightly to you, is still as he left it. His sketchbook and pen lay together on the side of the table he always used to dine at.
Only the arm, that he used to love, and laugh as it bothered you, reminded you where he is now. For that arm, just like he, is now resting. Motionless.
But you can’t bring yourself to remove that arm, and give it a proper resting place. Because that will mean admitting defeat, admitting acceptance. And you rather leave the arm there, than agree to that.
What now? What is even left of you? How much more can you carry on?
The answer is simple- you can’t. He's not here. He will never come back.
Give up.
With a lot of effort, you lift yourself up from the dusty sofa you laid on. Your body feels so heavy, and you’re a bit surprised your prosthetics aren’t breaking under your weight.
You almost trip over the scattered empty bottles around you, and go around the piles of trash and mold that had built up. There’s a chance you stepped on some ants, maybe frightened a cockroach or two. You can’t be bothered to care.
Your legs carry you to a dimly lit room- his room. The scent almost choke you as it hits your nose. It’s almost as if he just left, and the room is waiting for his return.
The bed he made in the morning, before realizing he’s about to be late to the council’s meeting. The closet doors he left half open, as he hurried. The clothes he threw on the floor, while trying to choose what to wear. They all stared at you, asking, where is he? Why hasn’t he returned yet?
But you can’t explain to them he’s gone, and will never return again. They won’t understand what you wish so hard to still deny.
So you turn your back to them, and face the floor mirror standing in the corner of the room.
The man staring back at you looks awful. His pink hair he used so diligently to style, was now all messy. His clothes were stained and dirty.
It was hard to imagine that not so long ago, that man used to stand proud and strong. He used to cook, laugh, exercise, go to work everyday, and come back to loving arms and home.
Now he was a shell of a man, for the man he used to be died a few days ago with his beloved.
You look coldly at that man, and your pink eyes begin to glow.
“Hypnotize yourself.”
You say in a quiet voice, that hasn’t been of use in a long time. The movement of your dried lips felt strange, you almost forgot what it’s like to speak.
“Hypnotize yourself.”
“Hypnotize yourself.”
You keep on saying, while you’re frozen in your stand, and can’t look away. Not that you want to look away. Not that you want anything, but one:
“Hypnotize yourself.”
“Hypnotize yourself.”
“Hypnotize yourself.”
Your eyes begin to burn, itching to blink, but you won’t. You simply can’t.
“Hypnotize yourself.”
“Hypnotize yourself.”
“Hypnotize yourself.”
“Hypnotize yourself.”
Blood starts dripping from the corner of your eyes, down to your chin, and from there drips on your dirty shirt. Your vision starts to blur, and it’s hard to breathe. But you can’t stop.
“Hypnotize yourself.”
“Hypnotize yourself.”
“Hypnotize yourself.”
“Hypnotize yourself.”
You feel light headed and dizzy, everything is so heavy, so you give in and fall to your knees. But you don’t break eye contact with the man. With your reflection. With yourself.
“Hypnotize yourself.”
“Hypnotize yourself.”
“Hypnotize yourself.”
“Hypnotize yourself.”
The pink glow of your eyes is now weaker, and the color is pale. The tips of your hair also start to lose pigment, and turn white. At this point you’re not sure where you are. Everything is so blurry and spins around you like a carrousel. It spins around you, and the mirror.
“Hypnotize… yourself…”
“Hypnotize… yourself…”
“Hypnotize… yourself…”
At some point you fell flat on the floor, still maintaining eye contact with your reflection.
“Hypnotize… yourself…”
“Hypnotize… yourself…”
The white in your hair spreads, and it reaches down to your skin. You look more paler, white as a ghost. The glow of your eyes is almost gone, and they burn. They burn so much.
“Hypnotize… yourself…”
But you like the sensation.
“Hypnotize… yourself…”
You deserve it.
“Hypnotize… yourself…”
The pain means it’s almost over.
“Hypno…tize… your…self…”
Not only the glow in your eyes is missing- so does their color. They’re all white now. White and empty.
But you’re not done yet.
“Hypno…tize… your…self…”
“Hypno…tize… your…self…”
“Hypno…tize… your…self…”
Suddenly Lillium found himself in a field of flowers and tall grass that reached to his knees. He looked down to his hands- his palms weren’t covered in bandages and scars. They were as if he never held a weapon before. His clothes looked fresh, and good as new. His body was light, like he was back to his prime.
Where is he?
He felt a refreshing breeze coming from behind him, messing his hair.
“Come on, Lil! What are you standing there for?” A familiar voice echoed.
Lillium looked up, and right in front of him, there he was-
“Iris.” He gasped in disbelief.
Iris smiled, a bit confused, “Uh, yeah? Who else?”
He got closer to Lillium, and took both of his hands. “Hey, what got into you? Come with me!”
With a wide, blissful smile, Iris started running backwards, pulling Lillium after him.
“Woah! Be careful!” Lillium called, but that only made Iris laugh.
“Just enjoy the moment, Lil!” He said, tightening his grip on Lillium’s hands, and started spinning them around.
The wind in Iris’s hair, his laughter, the excitement as he closed his eyes to enjoy the moment, in the field of flowers, spinning around like two idiots, is this heaven?
And what a magnificent field of flowers too! It had flowers in all the shades of white, red, orange, pink, and yellow. Complimenting the sky, that seemed to be stuck in the perfect golden hour.
The golden rays of sunshine shone on Iris’s smile, as he cheered.
His Iris.
Without a warning, Iris stopped, and with a mischievous shriek he fell backwards on the soft grass, pulling Lillium down with him.
“AH- Iris-” Lillium called in surprise, as he fell on top of Iris. His hands stopped his fall, holding him above the laughing boy.
Lillium’s breath was taken away, as he looked down at his beloved. Iris glowed from joy, shining more than the sun itself.
Iris calmed down, and looked up at Lillium’s eyes. His soft expression was full of warmth and love. He stretched up his hands and combed Lillium’s hair, leaving his fingers there, between the pink locks.
“Lillium?” Iris said, relaxed, “Have I ever told you how much I love you?” He smiled.
“Many times before, yes,” Lillium smiled back, “But not enough.”
Iris chuckled, “Don’t be so greedy now.”
“How can I not?” Lillium laughed, and leaned lower.
In the field of flowers, with the wind blowing, the warm golden sun not moving in the sky, their lips about to touch-
“Lillium,” Iris said quietly, his breath brushing Lillium’s lips, and hints of sadness in his voice, “The world is so beautiful, and this is how you choose to die?”
And you’re back to the cold, unloving room. The stench of rotten and mold switches the sweet scent of the flowers. Iris is gone again, grief taking his place.
The man staring back at you starts to tear up, tears mixing in the blood, because you can’t stop now. You simply can’t.
“Hypno…tize… your…self…”
You shakily stretch a hand towards the man in the mirror, as he tries to reach back. It’s too late.
“Hypno…tize… your…self…”
“Iris,” You whisper between the hypnosis, your weak hand collapsing in front of you.
“Hypno…tize… your…self…”
“My beautiful Iris,” Your voice breaks, as everything gets more heavy, dark, and cold.
“Hypno…tize… your…self…”
“You were my world.”