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He didn’t mean to. Sorry meant something, right?
It was an easy enough lie to tell to the public. Of course, Alastor raised an eyebrow in hilarity, but who the fuck cared what a decrepit creep had to say? It was fine. Everything was fine.
The work part was taken care of quickly and efficiently, like nothing had changed. Velvette did the media aspect of things, and he hired someone else for the actual directing while taking care of the logistic side of running a porn industry. And even when his nights became longer and his headaches stronger, that didn’t matter. It was all worth it, it would be all worth it, in the end. He was doing this for him. Anyone could see that. He was doing the right thing.
—-
Valentino stared up at him, gaze blank. He couldn’t speak now, but that was fine. Vox just needed to look at him, to see that he was breathing, to hold his hand and feel that slow, steady pulse underneath all of the bandages.
He didn’t mean to. He never meant to. If he knew what was going to happen, he would’ve never done it, and that meant something. It had to, because he was trying, and it was working, Valentino was still alive and that was all that mattered.
“Hi, Val.” He smiled softly, tracing a hand along one of his burnt wings. Valentino visibly shuddered, and Vox felt a surge of satisfaction— Valentino was happy. That’s what it meant.
Val didn’t say anything, of course. But he could see in his eyes what he wanted to say and wanted to do— he wanted to hold Vox and kiss him. He wanted to say hi back. He loved him. And Vox loved him too, infinitely times more.
“Work was crazy today.” Vox said slowly, pausing to lean down and peck his cheek. “Turns out running the porn industry is really difficult, huh?”
Valentino must have nodded when he ground his jaw down. A slow moaning sound filled the room, and so what if it turned Vox on? He hadn’t had sex in two months.
“Being in this room must be so mind-numbing.” Vox murmured, after a while. The silence was too heavy and wrong in its judgement so he had to fill it. “But you have to understand. This is for you.”
Vox picked up one of Valentino’s limp hands, inspecting the fine bandages and tender flesh underneath. His entire arm trembled with every one of Vox’s movements, but his red eyes continued to stare up, up at the ceiling and up at the empty, starless sky beyond.
“I’m sorry about what happened.” Vox said quietly. Shifting so he could inspect Valentino’s face more clearly, still holding on to Valentino’s warmth.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry, Valentino. I love you so much and I wish I told you sooner.” Vox felt tears swell, and he did nothing to stop them as they dripped down onto Valentino’s arm. “I feel terrible but you have to forgive me, I did what I could, you’re still alive, aren’t you?”
I’ll cherish and take care of you forever. I love you. I love you I love you I love you. I know you can’t say it back but you must do, too. We’re destined to be together, even through anything, even through this. I love you so fucking much, Valentino.” Vox cried. “I love you.”
There was no response, as always.
The room was too empty, too quiet. Nothing. Wrong. Horrible. Ugly. Stupid. Disgraceful. In pain, in pain, in pain—
No.
No.
No.
No.
Vox buried his fingers into his own flesh, fresh blood dripping and dripping, falling onto the already ruined bedsheets, gore mingling with Valentino’s older, dried up stains.
It was fine.
No.
Fuck, no.
He didn’t mean to do it.
He felt horrible for doing it.
He regretted it. He regretted it with every part of his being.
He didn’t know! It wasn't his fault. He didn't know.
He didn’t know it’d burn his beautiful purple flesh and leave him in forever agony.
He didn’t know it’d bring the love of his afterlife into inches of death.
He didn’t know. He didn’t know. He didn’t know and he was sorry he was so fucking sorry and he loved Valentino so fucking much why can’t he see that why can’t they see that he’s doing the best he can but he can’t let him go because he can’t die, he can’t leave him, he can’t ruin everything he can’t because he loved him and he knew that he loved him too.
Vox ducked his head, breathing in Valentino’s scent. From a different angle, his face looked almost serene; peaceful, at rest. Chest rising and falling slowly. Because he was alive, because Vox was doing the right thing.
“I love you.” Vox said finally, words barely a whisper in the still wind. He said it into Valentino’s chest, he said it into the empty, empty room, he said it for himself, and he wished he could scream it for everyone to hear, for Alastor and for Velvette and for every judgemental gaze and doubtful thought, but most importantly for Valentino to hear, to acknowledge him, to respond, to say those three words back–
Valentino’s breath stuttered. Vox darted up in confusion as he saw life spark back into his love’s body.
A low noise. In pain, grating against his ears. Agony. Agony, spoken just slightly, wrong and disorientated, fallen with use—
“Let me die,” Valentino choked out, each word painful to say, each syllable a blade of hot iron against unhealed skin, tears falling down his face.
He tried to jerk up, but Vox stopped him, pressing his hands against the burn marks, silent, feeling his pulse.
Vox's vision swimmed, corners of the room creeping in and holding him, torturing him.
No.
No.
NO.
He said he was sorry.
Valentino wasn't in the right mind. Vox shook his head, shook the other, too, to knock some sense into him. He was thinking wrong. He was never that smart, anyways.
How could he want that?
How could he say that?
How could he want to leave him?
Vox let out a sob, wiping away Valentino's tears and replacing them with his own.
No, no, no, no, no. No. He couldn't leave him. He meant everything to him.
Vox squeezed Valentino's arm, kissed him, shoved his tongue into his lover's warmth. Held his face in his hands, not quite minding the marks he made against purple flesh.
They were meant to be together, forever. That wasn't such a hard thing to ask. Especially when love was such a powerful thing.