Thank you very much to the lovely lovely @bing-iplier for helping me
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Prompt 23: “They didn’t deserve you.”
He wasn’t expecting it. Never in a million years.
He wasn’t expecting to smell blood as soon as he stepped into his clearing. He wasn’t expecting to see it splattering the windows even from fifty yards away.
He wasn’t expecting to have to sprint to the cabin, bound up the steps and across the sagging porch.
He wasn’t expecting what he knew he would see as soon as he threw open the rotting, wooden door.
“Edward!” The body on the floor barely resembled him. There was so much blood and no life to the blank, brown eyes that stared upward without actually seeing anything.
But it was undeniably, unmistakably him.
The Author’s bat slipped from his fingers, fell to the floor with a heavy thunk. He didn’t hear it. It was drowned out by the thundering of his own heartbeat in his ears as he scrambled to Edward, dropped to his knees beside him.
It was then that he froze. It was then that he noticed that he wasn’t alone.
He slowly, slowly, slowly glanced up. Met the eyes of the man with no shadow.
“Author,” Dark purred, leaning down and extending a hand. “Allow me to help you up.”
“You killed him!” The Author cried, batting Dark’s hand aside, blinking back tears.
Dark scowled and withdrew his hand. “Of course I did. He didn’t deserve you.”
“What-”
“You can be so much more, Author.” Dark brushed past him, stepping over Edward’s body like it was nothing. “You have so much power. So much potential.”
“But your doctor,” Dark continued, wrinkling his nose, “was in your way. He was dragging you down.”
The Author finally tore his eyes from Edward and glanced at Dark. “He- I-”
“Loved him?” Dark sneered. “Don’t play that card. You’re just like me, Author. You don’t feel love. You use. You use, and you move on.
“Which is what you need to do now.” He offered the Author his hand again. “Move on.”
The Author looked back down at Edward. His boyfriend. His love.
He looked back up at Dark. Waiting expectantly. Offering promises. Promises of power. Of potential.
He only hesitated a moment before reaching out and taking his hand.
Tag: / WHY
that painful fic still needs a happy ending friend I am so not okay still it is very hurting ;3;
There was nothing but life for miles.
Flowers and grasses swayed with the sweet smelling wind. A pack of buffalo were wandering along, occasionally bending their great heads down to eat the tall grass, the pack quickly moving on once they had had their fill.
Author watches it from a flowery hill, a hill he made from the flat lands that stretch for miles, a valley that once was just farmland. It took only moments to change that. He stretches his will out, a thistle bush began to grow nearby. Plucking off a thistle with calloused, ink stained hands, he caresses the little spines, the hooks, made to stick to animal fur. With just a little coaxing, it’s a bird in his hands. Then a rock. Then it’s a puddle of water, flowing quickly through his fingers.
He lets it go, lets it saturate the ground.
—
“Did you like the valley I made for you, my love?”
The man at the top of the mountain sighs with a gust of cold wind. His form shifts suddenly, and soon enough he is closer to Authors size, standing next to him at the foot of the mountain. Now, a copper skinned man with flowers in his hair stood next to Author. His hair, raven black, flows down to the earth. Author gasps when he looks at his face- so much like Edward, but there was no softness. His jaw hangs loosely, flowers growing from the ruined mouth in a lively bouquet. A tooth falls from his overgrown mouth, onto the ground.
“What- What happened to you?”
The jaw contrts itself into a smile, a smile that is almost recognizable in places. But only places.
“I have changed. I’m different. This is the closest form I can have to being human, Author,” the man locks eyes with him, and Author can see they’re a constantly shifting color, filled with life and mystery.
“…but what about-“
“Edward?” The Being laughs, and it sounds like birdsong. Author feels his heart melt. Oh, he is there, of course, little one. He is me. I am him. Changed. I am life itself.”
Heat flashes across Author’s vision.
“What the hell does that mean?”
“It means I am fond of you, life-bringer. You have made me so much, brought me so many gifts with what you’ve been given. There is a part of me that still calls for you, I can feel it inside of me, even though I might not be your love, even if I never was, even if I never will be.”
Author stares blankly at him, vision blurring for a second before a tear ran down his face. Edward. His face burns, his skin igniting. The Being rushes forward, wrapping the burning Author in his great, strong arms, the fire choking under the greens and flowers, and for a moment he could feel Edward. For a moment it was morning in bed with him, Edward clinging to him before he got out of bed.
“I will make more, I will do more, I will be more,” Author whispers, “I will, my love, I will.”
—
It’s the art of undoing. The art of taking everything one had worked for, and tearing it apart it’s his bare hands. Barren fields into rainforest, buildings overgrowing and splitting themselves with flowers and trees.
Now it has a purpose. It wasn’t just because of the pain, or the fire. It was undoing for Edward- the Being, his love. It was the two of them as one- destruction and life as one. In a way, he was still with him.
It was all for Edward, even if he wasn’t truly there anymore.
It was all for love.
emptynarration 