Work Text:
It’s been five days since Brian has been home. Five. Whole. Days. Hardly any texts back, much less calls. You knew he was busy, but was he really that busy? Busy enough to be ignoring his partner? I mean, you didn’t even know what he does for work! He refuses to tell you anything other than “It’s a complicated, dirty job.” Which, despite it being fucking honestly? Can be literally anything. Though, I guess he wasn’t obligated to tell you absolutely everything. However, that dreadful feeling of being lied to has been sinking in your gut for the past few days.
Especially after Sunday night.
He had left suddenly in the middle of the night with no words, early warnings or anything. Only leaving his silence, and his usual spot in your shared bed cold. He didn’t even send a text, telling you he was okay. At least, not until later into that day. Declaring he had to be at work and “Wouldn’t be back for awhile.” So, you could only assume the only reason he was gone….
Work.
Truthfully, you were done with tolerating this. You didn’t want to just sit and wait in his cabin like some kind of dog for Brian. Pretend that it was okay that he’d mysteriously leave for days before coming back exhausted and prepared to say those three little words you were so, so, so, tired of hearing— “It’s fine baby.” when you knew it wasn’t “fine” at all. So, today you had decided it would be the last day you’d deal with this.
You knew breaking up with him wouldn’t be the easiest. Since, even if you didn’t want to admit it, you still deeply cared about him. But, again—mentally, it would be better for the both of you. No doubt was Brian equally and hopefully just as worried about you. Plus, if he was lying, it would at least take the burden of lying off of his shoulders. Leaving you both at some sort of peace.
Quickly, you pulled out your phone before scrolling down towards Brian’s contact. You couldn’t help but linger at the profile picture you had taken of him. The way his mouth morphed into this goofy, golden retriever-like smile, or how—even with it being a picture—you could tell how in love he was with you through his eyes. Your heart sank, was this really right to do? No, no, of course it was.
There's no way it wasn’t the right thing to do.
Before you could even begin typing out the message, the front door of your shared cabin practically slammed open. Sloppy, but frantic footsteps following the burst of sound. As if whoever came in was trying to be careful, and not disturb anyone else in the house. “Shit,” softly, you muttered. Regardless if Brian was on his way or not even close to being finished with work.. you were still technically in the middle of the forest. Without any weapons, too.
At least you thought there wasn’t any.
There on the nightstand of the room you and Brian shared, was his gun. The gun that Brian was never not seen with. The gun that was supposed to be in his pocket or wherever the hell he stored it. Without thinking, you snatched the gun from the counter. “This better work,” You groaned under your breath. Before creeping out into the hallway carefully. Shooting them..wouldn’t be that hard right? Brian had taught you how to handle a gun before. But, then again…he did shoot a deer, an animal. Something everyone and their dog around here shot. That was nowhere near the same as a possible intruder.
Someone who could be just like you.
Sweat coated the back of the baggy T-shirt you had stolen from Brian, as you planted yourself against the wall of the kitchen entrance. Clutching the glinting gun like you were some kind of badass spy with an organized target, cool uniform, and a radio on your ear. Except you weren’t…even if you wished you were at this moment. It certainly would make things less nerve wrecking.
“Fuck,” A familiar voice hissed. “Why’d I come back?” The individual weakly whispered. Although it was recognizable, it was also oddly unfathomable at the same time. Sort of like when you have deja vu. The voice sounded so much like Brian. Yet, what if they were playing tricks on you? What if it was a lure method? A loud thump thundered across the walls of the living room, meaning whoever was in there had ... .settled against the wall?
“It’s now or your death, ____” You thought, letting out a soft sigh before turning the corner and pointing the gun towards the individual. Sure your hands were shaking but you were the one with the gun. Though, the sight was shocking. You were expecting maybe your regular, hollywood-esque intruder. All black clothes, a knife and snooping around your place. But no. There, laid a man in a blood stained light brown hoodie, his back against the cabin wall, while one of his hands clutched his head. A fresh, sickening, but not unfamiliar crimson dripped down the side of his head down to his chin.
However, it was the face of the man that caught your attention. Currently, it was covered with an ominous black mask with a sloppy, but intimidating red frown drawn on. Although, it was pushed up to rest above his nose. Allowing his nose and chin to poke out. From what you could see, he was smeared with some dirt and maybe, and hopefully his own dried blood. Making it clear that whatever he was doing before was certainly not pretty. It wasn’t until you had noticed the stubble, and the mustache that you realized…it was Brian.
“Brian?” Shakily, you called out. “What…how..” you trailed off, lowering the gun down. Out of everyone in this area, why was he coated in blood? Had he gotten into an accident? “What happened?” Nervously, you sputtered. Going to his side immediately. He hadn’t even opened his mouth before you were already stripping off the mask. Hands searching him for any more injuries other than the obvious one.
“Mm..hey there baby.” Lazily, Brian greeted. “..m’sorry for uh, coming home like this.” Softly he apologized. Eye glazing over your frame. “Work, that’s what happened.” Curtly, Brian explained. Which annoyed you more than anything. You hated whenever he was vague about work. Especially now, since the man was practically bleeding out in your shared cabin.
“God damnit Brian,” You cursed, pressing the mask against the injury on his head. “I just don’t get it, why are you so vague...” Annoyed, you stated. “You don’t tell me anything about where you go when you disappear other than “I have work” and now look at you! you come home like this.” You bit out, watching as his chest went up and down in shallow breaths. Staring at you with a weak, but soft smile. “God Brian, why do you always do this to me–?” softly, you whimpered out. Lowering your head to search for your phone. “I”m calling 911, I don’t think I can just patch you up like I normally do with an injury like this, Bri.” Flatly, you explained.
Before you could even open your phone, Brian’s gloved hand shot out immediately. Griping your wrist in a desperate attempt to stop you. “No, no don’t.” He grunted through his pained hisses. “I—look hun, listen to me–’kay?” Brian uttered weakly, his hazel eyes searching your face in a frantic attempt to figure out whether or not you were paying attention to him. “I know you’re mad at me, trust me, I know.” Brian remarked. “But, I need you to understand that I…I’m not good for you, this?” He motioned to his injury, before continuing. “This…this is because I am a horrible, horrible man sometimes.” Trembling, he uttered weakly. “A–and if I can be completely honest?” Feebly, he chuckled. “I don’t want you getting involved in this mess.”
Horrible man.
The words rang in your mind, echoing in his shaky tone. That didn’t seem right at all. Brian was never a horrible man. He was kind, loving, and hell, he certainly wouldn’t hurt anyone. Much less kill someone…right? Yeah, he had his communication problems. But, that didn’t call for being that violent right. “Horrible man? Mess?” You echoed, dropping your phone against the hardware floors. “Brian—hah, you don’t—what are you talking about?” You inquired, as you desperately looked for a hint of deception across his face and body language. But found, unfortunately, nothing. “C’mon, you’re joking right? This..this was from an accident, yeah?” You stammered.
“No,” warily, he responded. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.” Brian said, forcing a calm expression as he reached out to grasp my hand. “They’ll arrest me, I’m wanted…I’m a whole fuckin’ mess, baby.” He scoffed. “Listen, okay? ‘m sorry…” he murmured. “If you’re wondering, which I mean, you probably are.” Gingerly, he began.
“Yeah—yeah, this isn’t my blood,” He confirmed, nodding towards the blood that stained his hoodie. “Some of it? Maybe…but most of it isn’t.” A beat had passed before he continued. “I’ve killed people, murdered them, burried them or left their fucking bodies in the forest like some–some kind of animal.” Shamefully, Brian confessed. He couldn’t even bring himself to look at you. “And I don’t know why I do, I just do, even with how much I wanna stop or try to stop…but I never have control of myself when I do so I can’t stop and I am so, so, so, sorry____.” He rambled on the brink of sobbing.
You felt as if the entire world had stopped the moment he confessed. It couldn’t be true. Brian, your Brian–left every single day, disappear for days, and leave you on read. All because he was murdering people. Not because he was busy with work, or cheating on you with a co-worker you had no idea about. But because he was responsible for those murder cases you saw every morning on the local news. “What..the..fuck, Brian.” You whispered, stumbling back. “You’re..God, what is wrong with you?!” Shocked, you barked.
Brian winced when you shouted, shutting his eyes immediately. “Sweetheart, please.” He groaned. “Like I said, I know you're mad.” Brian repeated, grunting every now and then at the pain. “Just..come here, please?” Tenderly, he pleaded. Looking up at you with hooded eyes. “Just wanna hold you for a bit, for–” He paused, as if contemplating if he should say something before speaking up again. “Just to make me feel better, ‘kay?” He explained as he outstretched his free hand for you to take.
This was so wrong…so, so, so very wrong. How could he ask for you to come over so he could ‘hold you’ after admitting he just killed people. His soft, sweet tone didn’t exactly help either. Taking a breath, you moved over to him. Hesitantly approaching him. “There you are,” Lightly, Brian cooed. Carefully wrapping an arm around your waist to bury his head into your neck. Although this wasn’t new for Brian to do to you. It felt…unusual, given the situation. “Just stay with me, just for a bit..yeah?” He hummed. To which you nodded in agreement.
“Why didn’t you tell me before?” Cautiously, you grilled. Holding him just as close to you. “I can't say I’d react any better, but..I don’t know, I don’t get why you just didn’t tell me.” You spoke plainly. Yet, Brian didn’t answer. He was breathing, yeah. But he wasn’t responding. “Brian?” Hastily, You queried. Although, before you could even push him away and check if he really was still alive. A sharp, dreadful pain shot through your body. Stemming from your stomach. “Brian!” You thundered. Frantically trying to push him away. “Brian! What are you doing?!” Confused, you sobbed. Glancing down to find his hand gripping his knife, which was lodged disgustingly deep into your stomach.
“I’m sorry sweetheart,” He trembled, jerking his hand to drive the weapon deeper. “But I can’t let him get you the way he got to me.” Brian declared, before lodging the knife out. Blood seeping and oozing out of your stomach. “Fuck,” He cussed, averting his gaze. “I’m so sorry, I really am honey.” He apologized once more. Holding you closer and tighter as he held your head up. Forcing you to avert your gaze from the gruesome sight below you. “Shh–shh, it’s okay.” Brian lulled “Look at you, God you’re perfect…I hate that I have to do this to you.” He choked out.
You couldn’t help but whimper and sob at the unbearable pain. “Brian…I hate you,” shakily, you declared. Interestingly enough, he only sighed in disappointment. Though, you couldn’t determine whether or not it was in disappointment of himself or you.
“You have every right to.” He confirmed tenderly. You watched as his eyes grew heavier, even feeling yours grow just as heavy. It didn’t feel fair, he was so accustomed to the idea of death and here you were; growing more scared as your left slipped away by the seconds. “Can I kiss you, sweetheart?” Gently, he asked. “Just one last time, please?” Despite the deadly situation, he waited. Waited for your word, whether it was a nod or a “yes.” Even at times like this…he was still so patient.
When you finally mustered a nod, he didn’t hesitate for a second. Crashing his lips on to yours just as he did a million times before this. Except, this time, he seemed scared to let go. As if you would perish into ash right then and there if he did. Of course, he pulled away for some air but would quickly steer his lip back to yours. Catching you before you drifted too far from him. It sounded stupid, it really did feel like him catching you over and over again. His kisses felt like seconds of life added onto the one he stole minutes ago.
But, eventually…those seconds ran out. Leaving the both of you to succumb to the fate implemented on the two of you. Although, maybe it was okay, because in those last few moments of consciousness? Only love, compassion, and true devotion was all the two of you felt.
Which was more than perfect, for lovers like you.