Cackling. He could hear the cackling, and the voices seemed to overlap just fine and dandy as the cackling moved to a happier time. People singing, people laughing, a time of celebration. Popping noises, but those from party favors and the fireworks to welcome in a brand new year.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU~ HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU~

Cake, candy. Presents. People he only saw once a year coming to him and wishing him the best, and hopes for a good new year. Being told he was the star of the year, with his birthday being exactly at midnight. That year had been a bitterly cold New Years, with his party being held indoors and the piñata pushed off for another time entirely. A heavy snow had fallen so many of the fireworks were cancelled too, but the birthday party still happened and Lowe had gotten gifts he really hadn't asked for. He shouldn't have pouted, he should have accepted them but he went to bed seething with the usual teenage angst. He ignored the traditional kiss, swatting his family aside.

He wanted to sulk and he was going to do it.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY SWEET LOWE~

There was no singing anymore, only screams. Lowe locked the door, hid under his bed. He could hear his mother crying out for him, his father screaming for his mother and for him, and the wails of his sisters in the room next door. He hid under the bed, covering his face with his hands and counting to ten. Everything always went away when he closed his eyes and counted, and the screams would go away too.

One. Two. Three. Four By the time he reached four he could hear his door splintering. Five. Six. Seven. The door broke at the hinges, their loud squeal driving him to cry out as well and cover his mouth. Eight. Nine.

He never made it to ten.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU~

Nothing but screams. Always, always. Screaming. Lowe could hear nothing else, save for the splintering of the door and the squeals of the hinges when he dared try to sleep.

When the screaming didn't stop, Lowe stopped. He had no use for words. He had no use for people. Rage, aggression - always watching. Time, passing hands - foster homes. Medical evaluations for a boy who had seen something horrific and stopped talking. Medicines for a boy who claimed things were haunted when he dared to speak.

Useless, all useless. Endless muted noise, and then -

SO YOU'RE THE ONE, EH? USELESS LITTLE ********, HAVE YOU COME TO CRY AT ME?

It was almost like Lowe was hearing voices again for the first time. He looked around the "Cove", wondering just what it was that was calling out for him. There were no others beside him, he had been sent in alone, and now a voice was mocking his ears.

No, not his ears. Was he hearing it inside his mind, overlapping the sounds he heard every day? Why was this new voice, filled with a dark cackle, taking down the splintering door? In the gloomy glow he couldn’t make out anything, save for rows of tablets, and Lowe frowned against the sounds.

Was this part of the test? They had sent him down here to find a partner, where they being serious? Lowe had gotten this far trusting them to lead him to his death, and seeing tablets did nothing for that trust. He would not be mocked, he would -

OH COME ON NOW, DON'T ACT LIKE YOU CAN'T HEAR ME. I'M TALKING TO YOU, USELESS. DON'T TELL ME YOU'RE BLIND, TO GO ALONG WITH BEING DEAF? PFEH.

It was almost as though he could feel his mind being spit on, and he reached out and grabbed the tablet before him. Lowe would not be taunted; he had come here for only one purpose. The tablet materialized in his hands, a long weapon that he’d never seen before. A length that would keep enemies at a distance, but a weakness that would leave him vulnerable to attacks from behind or the side. He would need to master this Voulge if he wished to survive. Perfect.

He would use this weapon for the purpose he had joined the hunters, the only reason he’d accepted that offer when a hand was stretched out to him. The speeches and promises of being accepted, of being taught to understand, had meant nothing. There was only one thing Lowe wanted.

REVENGE IS A WONDERFUL THING, IF YOU'LL MAKE ME A PROMISE. I WILL CARRY YOU TO WHERE YOU WANT TO GO.

The words had been honey to Lowe's ears, but the Weapon called Afzal had been mistaken in judgment over what Lowe really wanted. He wasn’t looking for a place to fight and kill; he was looking for a place to die. He wanted to take down as many of the monstrous bastards as he could in the process, but a battlefield where his body could lay unclaimed was what Lowe wanted.

It was no less than he deserved for hiding, for counting beneath his bed. His body would either be recovered by a team when the mission ended or would be eaten, torn apart by the beasts he’d gone to kill. That was why he’d demanded to be put into the Sun division, ready to risk his life and die early.

Afzal respected that, and they'd begun their life together. Lowe would master him even if he didn't want to, and Afzal would ensure his demise.

DIG. DIG DEEP, DIG HARD. LEAVE NOTHING BEHIND; REND FLESH ASUNDER AND RUN RIVERS RED. WANT NOTHING, LIVE FOR NOTHING. FIGHT EACH FIGHT LIKE YOU WANT TO DIE AND I WILL STAND BY YOU.

He hadn’t died again. Why….why wasn’t he one of the lucky ones? Lowe stepped over the corpse of a fellow Sun, careful not to kick the body with the toe of his shoe in the process. The battle had been bloody and he had fought without concern for himself, and yet he stayed standing while others had fallen. Should Lowe have known these people? He’d made it a point to not make any contact with them, to prevent a relationship of any sort from being made. So let them think him creepy, so let them think him blood crazed.

Lowe needed not to explain himself to them so long as he kept his promise with Afzal. So long as the voulge would keep the half of his promise too, to be there for Lowe until the end, to give him a proper grave.

WHAT ARE YOU DOING?

He hid the necklace in a place someone would look, he thought. He wrote a note with it too, grinning all the while. Diving in the dumpsters had been an adventure, and he hoped whoever would find the necklace would understand that. He went back to the room he was currently sharing, a body cooling on the sheets. There had been two with him only hours before yet now only one remained, and Lowe slipped into the sheets beside it. He dared to place a hand against the back that spread before him, his fingers tightening softly as he pressed them against the flesh.

Lowe had never cared, or never thought he wanted to care. He’d lived his life, his career as a hunter, stepping over the corpses of his fallen comrades. He’d spent no time shedding tears over them nor having a desire to hold them in his arms. And yet on this night he had held two people close, one of them for the body and the other . . . for his own heart. It was ridiculous, and yet Lowe couldn’t think of anything else that would work. The sheets were cold about his shoulders as he shuffled to get warmer, all the while finding himself moving closer and closer to the body that occupied an always empty space. Marsh was warm, and Lowe placed a kiss against the man’s shoulder blade.

This was a mistake.

LOWE.

It was strange to think he had no regrets. There wasn’t part of him that demanded he stay alive and go on a new adventure with the friends he’d made. There wasn’t a part of him that wanted to know what it would be like to wake up the next day with Marsh in his arms, or to be the one being held. All the necklaces and bracelets he’d made could be left where they lay, gathering dust.

Would someone find them in the future and wonder about the person who made them? Would someone care about Lowe Merryweather, the Sun Hunter?

It was okay if they didn’t. He had left behind nothing as a legacy, and that was acceptable with him. His wish had finally come true; he was finally going to go home. His parents would be waiting, his sisters would be waiting. They’d go back into their house with the splintered door and squealing hinges, and they’d celebrate his birthday. That was all Lowe had ever wanted, and yet. There was something else gnawing at the back of his mind as his vision tunneled, as the fireworks started to crackle.

Was Em going to be waiting, with Julio at her side? Would she jump up and hug at Lowe like she always had? Was Julio going to block the path out again with his body, only to move and laugh when asked to step away? Would Marsh wait for him, holding out a hand to him like he had before? Lowe would have taken that hand if he could, but there was no more movement.

He would turn and walk with his family back into his home. He had promised them to die for them, to see only them.

Forgive him, Marsh. Forgive me.

YOU KEPT YOUR PROMISE.

There was another cackle, deep and harsh. Afzal’s voice was growing weak against the fireworks and the voices singing Auld Lang Synge.

I’M NOT KEEPING MINE.