The tears were worse than his anger.Declan itched to pull him in, stroke his hair until he broke against Declan’s neck.Anything that might help.They had spoken of getting wasted.
Antonio would see it again.Soon.See and see andsee.Selfish.Not reminding Antonio wasselfish.Worrying about his own place in Antonio’s affections was self-absorbed and miserable of him.
“It’s alright not to know.I’m so sorry for your loss, Antonio.”He curled his hand over Antonio’s jaw.Allowed the other to card through his soft brown curls.“I… You’ll see everything again, if I stay near.”
Declan’s voice shook, damn him to the voids.Words and hands, breathing unsteady despite his best effort.
“No.”Hard and cutting and Antonio’s hand tightened again on Declan’s waist.
Broken.All of it.Himself.The world.Declan’s voice when he whispered, “I’m sorry.”
“Stay.”Softer but no less urgent, and he turned his face into Declan’s palm.Leaned into him as if Declan weren’t the creature who had caused him this pain.“Don’t make me sit with this alone.”
Don’t make him sit with this alone, but subject him to seeing his friend die, over and over.If he didn’t pull away, Declan knew, heknew, that Antonio would flinch away from him whenever Declan drew near.Love him and hesitate anyway.
Disappear for a century.Return only when given no other choice.
Declan would break.Crumble with no hope of being put back together.He trusted Antonionow, trusted he knew his own mind, just as the sluagh knew people didn’t realize what it did to them, seeing death after death after death.
No one else trusted him like that.
Either choice, Declan would become Antonio’s monster.Abandonment or slow torture.
Antonio kept his face against Declan’s palm, trusting him.Trusting he wouldn’t leave him to face his grief alone.
“Antonio.”It was all Declan could say.
That sickening dam inside of Declan’s heart broke, shattered apart the way he would after hours of Reece’s death had played behind Antonio’s eyelids.When Declan lost what he loved because ofwhathe was.Antonio’s name, and ugly, wrenching sobs, fueled by centuries that left him held up only by Antonio’s tight grip, half crumpled and shaking.
Self-pitying, patheticdramatics.
“Breathe.”The word came firm and sure, as Antonio dragged Declan fully into his arms.“Focus on me, Declan.Feel me?”
Solid warmth at his cheek.A hand at his back, stroking down his spine, as the other curved at the back of his head, fingers playing through his hair.Sun-bright concern, metallic and spreading.Safe in Antonio’s arms with the scent of leather and copper.The only place Declan wanted to be.And he was to lose it all, for not abandoning Antonio like he should.
Antonio tucked him in closer.“I can handle this, hear me?You know I mean it.Youknow.Been through worse.I’m not going anywhere.”
Gasping sobs eventually quieted into the trembling relief of a lanced wound.Fear’s stinging song still rang clear but failed to echo in the face of Antonio’s grief and care.
“I should tell you to leave,” Declan managed eventually, rasped raw, still shaking, the words half hiccups.He curled closer anyway, wings tucked in toward the safety of Antonio’s touch.
“You did,” Antonio murmured, voice just above a whisper.“And I told you it wasn’t fucking happening.”
Gentle words.Patience.Love.It hurt the way only Antonio’s kindness could.
“I don’t– I didn’t–” Hitched breaths and Declan, trembling, held close to keep from being scattered to pieces.He curled in closer, anyway.“This isn’t…”
“What usually happens?”Those words, he kissed just above Declan’s ear, hands tighter still.When Declan nodded, short and jerky, he asked, “Kelpie the usual?”
Declan shook his head, the slightest of movements.“Everil, at least, kept his claws to himself.”
“Shit.I– You were there with me.You saw what I saw.And now–” Antonio swallowed, cut himself off with a swell of sadness Declan knew too well.He leaned in again when Declan dared slide his hand up, card his fingers through those messy curls.“I’m not alone with it.Seeing means not trying to picture it later.Painting it worse.”
Truth, there, in that.Convulsing and blood-flecked spittle was worse.Crowds of people nearby, no one caring or paying attention, that too, was worse.The memory of an acquaintance, sobbing and miserable, doing as Reece soon would but withintentstill tormented Declan’s dreams.
“I saw what you saw,” Declan agreed, unsteady voice matching Antonio in volume.Hushed.Low.“You’re not alone with it.No sitting with this on your own.”
I won’t leave you to suffer in the wake of fae magic.I’m here.
