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 Posted: Sat Feb 06, 2016 9:41 pm
He had not been home for two days.
Two of the longest days of his life. Two days that felt like two weeks, two months, two years, until everything blurred together, until time seemed to have dragged on for centuries without Cerussite being aware of it. He felt dazed, as though his body was moving on autopilot, simply going through the motions without actually being in control of his own actions.
He’d gone to Cinnabar, of course. Then to the Rift, trying to find a place to rest, because he couldn’t go to Fritz’s, and he couldn't go home.
Home. It was impossible that Hitch - that Eurydike - would take him back now, not after all that had happened. It was impossible to believe that the devastation and the fury that he’d seen on his former (the word felt like a knife in his stomach) lover’s face was burned into Cerussite’s memory as though it was meant to stay there permanently. He could remember it all too clearly, the stunned stare that had, almost immediately, been followed by a look of pure and utter rage.
And betrayal. The hurt had been too much for Cerussite to even see, painful to look at.
They hadn’t even talked of it. Cerussite had not gone home that day, had not gone home since. He had realized, in that singular instant, that everything that he had worked so hard for was falling apart at the seams, his world crumbling into ashen dust at his feet. That the person he had done all of this for was the man that he had fought against, the hatred in Eurydike’s eyes as he had lashed out at him ingrained into his thoughts. Eurydike hadn’t known him then.
But he did now. And that hatred could not have been so easily dissipated.
Cerussite felt as though he couldn’t breathe. He stood now, in the yellowish glare of a dim streetlight, snow falling softly around his face and dampening the ground beneath his feet. He gave a shiver in the chill air, breath visible, and the heart that beat against his chest felt tight, constricted. All he’d done for the past two days was sleep - and sob. Great, shuddering, soul tearing sobs that had wrenched at his gut, tore out pieces of his heart and shattered them, along with the rest of his life.
His face was paler than usual, freckles standing out in stark contrast, and Cerussite stood there, swaying slightly as he tried to get control of himself. He’d only agreed to patrol because he had to keep going, otherwise all of this would have been for naught.
(It was, anyway.)
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Tolliver wouldn’t know the apartment had been empty for days. Not since Hitch had come home after he’d found out the truth - not since he’d howled privately behind paper thin walls and turned his frustration on things instead of the source, flinging books, hitting walls, flipping the mattress, and the drumset was -
-he hadn’t gone back. It hurt too much to go back. The place that’d started off so cold had become something so much more, only to have it snatched away again. Now, though, now there were traces of Tolliver everywhere, from his scent on the pillow to that was the flannel he used to wear to bed. Since then it’d been a numb whirlwind of patrols and bourbon, and even that ******** reminded him of Tolliver, of what they’d had and what was gone. He’d spent nights at Eurydike, days at Hitch, curled in between boxes at his storage unit, trying not to shiver on the concrete. He’d hardly slept at all, hadn’t showered, and hadn’t shown up for work - he hadn’t even acknowledged his phone, long since dead and holding a plethora of messages he didn’t care to see.
Should he really be patrolling tonight, again? No.
Should he have been in the first place? Probably a terrible idea.
But he excelled at terrible. He was angry, so angry - and as much as it was dangerous, he knew, too, that it was all he had beyond misery, beyond the knowledge that the only thing worth fighting for hadn’t been his for who even knew how long.
He wished Tolliver would’ve cheated instead. Gotten fed up with him. Anything else. He knew it was too good to last forever, but to have it end like this -
The circles beneath his eyes were intensely dark, and he probably looked as much a mess as he felt.
Eurydike had gone out tonight looking for a fight. What he found instead was a lieutenant standing there beneath the streetlight, and the mere sight of him ached terribly. But the ache did not show unless one knew where to look in the tightness of his jaw, and he masked it the best he could with his anger, saying not a word but glaring at Cerussite from the shadows.
What even was there to say?
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He felt the power signature drawing closer, and it made him feel sick. Cerussite did not want to have to deal with anyone, did not want to fight anymore, did not want to take energy, or anything at all. He wanted to stand there and try and figure out what had gone wrong, why his heart felt as though it was no longer in his chest, as though it had shriveled up and cracked, splintering into a thousand pieces at his feet.
But he had to. He couldn’t just do nothing; doing nothing had gotten him nowhere fast, and now he had to prove himself all over again. He had to remember the reason why he had done this in the first place, and maybe he couldn’t save Hitch, but maybe - maybe Fritz -
-no. No, he’d failed them both, hadn’t he? He hadn’t been able to do anything for Hitch, and he was the entire reason he had joined the Negaverse in the first place: because he’d needed to be stronger, to protect Hitc.
He’d failed.
The power signature grew stronger, and then there were quiet, muffled footsteps. Cerussite’s head rose as he forced himself to shift, feet sliding on the cold ground until he was standing away from the lamp post, taking a deep breath and seeking out the source.
The world seemed to slow, and then stop altogether. If the wind was still blowing, if it was still snowing, he wasn’t aware of it anymore. The blackness of the night had pressed down until there was nothing at all anymore except himself and the senshi that stood only a few feet away, half shrouded in shadows, but unmistakeable.
Cerussite felt the panic rise, clogging his throat. Felt the agony cut at his chest, expose his heart, raw and open. He tamped down on everything, fingers curling lightly against the palms of his hands, which trembled against his sides.
For a moment there was nothing but silence between them, strained and painful.
“...Eurydike,” said Cerussite softly, and it was a ragged sound, the taste of the name on his tongue a bitter ache. “Please, I - “
Please what? What could he possibly have said? Or done? Or been?
Nothing. Nothing at all was the answer, and they both knew it.
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Have you been eating? Have you been sleeping? Are you happy now? Why? Why did you do this to me?
All these questions rose like vomit in the back of Eurydike’s throat, tasting bitter, and the urge to gag was strong. Cerussite, he felt dark, wrong, his aura weak but still warped with chaos. The senshi of salt bit down on his piercing, hard, crossing his arms over his chest when the lieutenant said his name, an unconscious defensive act.
It hurt. It hurt to hear his name said like that. The same kind of way he’d said Logan to him when he’d faltered or stumbled, when he was hurting. Part of Eurydike still felt the urge to protect, to wash away any and all sadness, fear, anything, everything. More than anything he longed to touch him, to cast Cerussite aside and have Tolliver fall into his arms.
But it’d never happen.
“Who turned you?”
He spat it angrily, bitterly, the only question he felt safe asking. “Who ********’ brainwashed you an’ shoved their goddamn hand in your chest, huh? Tell me.”
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A thousand questions of his own cascaded through his mind. A thousand more followed, and they tumbled, crashed, fell all over one another so that his mind was a blackened, tangled mess of things he could not say, would never be able to say. Not anymore, and yet they burned in the back of his throat, begging to be asked.
He couldn’t ask them. Any of them, ever again.
THe anger was still there in Eurydike’s face. If anything, it felt stronger now, and it was like venom, seeping through Cerussite’s veins. It made him nauseated, and for a few seconds he felt the dizziness twist inside of his stomach, burn through his head, until it was almost blinding.
But along with the pain - along with the utter devastation that he felt making his bones cold, Cerussite felt the smallest twinge of frustration, of self-defense.
“I’m not - “ His voice was weak, trembling. Cerussite clenched his hands together more tightly, nails digging into his palms against the fabric of his gloves. He swallowed hard and wondered if he was about to faint, mouth dry, as though he’d swallowed stardust.
“I’m not brainwashed,” he said hoarsely. “I’m still - “ I’m still me, I’m still me, I promise, please - “I’m not brainwashed, I’m doing what’s right, that’s all.”
There was an edge of desperation in his voice. He took an involuntary step forward, eyes widening slightly.
“Eurydike, please, “ he said again. “I’m doing the right thing, she told - they told me that I was doing the right thing, I’m - I’m getting stronger, I’m helping people.”
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Eurydike eased back onto his heels, looking like he wanted to take a step back, recoiling from his once-lover’s words, adam’s apple bobbing as he choked on air. Instead he seemed to think better of it, easing forward again, laughing in a short, sharp, bitter way. It was a terrible sound that probably hurt as much to hear as it did to make it.
“You say you’re you, an’ you’re spoutin’ s**t like that - “ He laughed again, humorless, but hard, his eyes dark and angry, his stomach feeling like it’d sunk. “You’re not - you’re not you - you’d never want this - you’d never wanna ********’ hurt people for some ******** up cult or whatever the ******** it is - they attacked you, too!” he snapped, even as he kept a twisted, bitter smile on his face. “Or did you forget about that?! Who ********’ helped you then, huh?! Are you ********’ stupid or somethin’?!”
He forced another laugh, running his fingers furiously through his bangs, not once, but twice; his fingers were shaking. “The right thing - who? Huh? Who is she? Who’s the ********’ piece of s**t that warped you, huh?”
His throat felt so tight it ached. Don’t beg. Don’t look at me like that sayin’ s**t like that. Don’t. Don’t. Please.
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He felt the almost-step back like a slap in the face. In spite of Eurydike having changed his mind at the last second, Cerussite had felt the moment of indecision. Had felt the way that he’d recoiled.
Don’t do that. Don’t walk away from me, don’t be afraid of me, you promised.
You promised you’d never be disgusted with me.
The frustration was rising, thick in his throat. Cerussite’s fingers were now clenched so tightly that beneath the gloves his knuckles were white, and he felt a burning, sickening swoop in the pit of his stomach, a strong urge to vomit rising. He pushed it back, felt a shiver go up and down his spine.
Each word was another knife. Each word was another reminder of all that he had lost; that the thing that had once loved so much was spitting obscenities and furious words at him with acid laced venom that burned with every syllable.
“That wasn’t them!” Cerussite shouted, and his voice shook, but was growing stronger. Eurydike had to understand, he had to make him understand. “That wasn’t them, they - they wouldn’t, they’ve been teaching me how to be stronger, how to be better. I’m not hurting people, I’m not - “ He shook his head, his tone pleading. “Eurydike, I’m helping, it’s not hurting.”
Are you ********’ stupid?
He couldn’t breathe. He wanted to drown, to disappear, to fade away. Cerussite’s eyes widened, and for a moment he was breathless and speechless, color rising in his cheeks, a sheen glossing over his eyes so that he blinked several times to dispel the dampness.
And then they narrowed, green eyes fixed on Eurydike’s face.
“I’m not stupid,” he said, and the pleading had gone from his voice, the frustration slowly ebbing away into something else, something he grappled desperately onto because there was no other path to take. He had nothing left to lose, not anymore, and Eurydike could not - would not - see reason, could not see that Cerussite was doing all of this for him.
“And I’m not warped,” he said, and took another step forward. The tears were drying rapidly. “Cinnabar, she - she says I’ve got what it takes to be better, and I’m going to be better, Eurydike, I’m going to be stronger, and if you - if you can’t see that, then fine. Then fine, you can’t, but I’m doing this because it’s the right thing.”
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“Do you even ********’ hear yourself?” he snapped with a desperate sweep of his hands; Hitch always did talk with his hands as much as his words, and sometimes they helped to fill the gaps in between. “I was there! I knew what the ******** was up for months before you did! - Celsus ********’ knew for years, an’ you’re gonna ********’ stand there an’ say you know better than us!?” That might not be what Cerussite had meant. But it was how it felt. Like he’d magically seen something that they hadn’t, when all he’d been doing was drinking the goddamn Kool-Aid for a couple of months.
This time, he did take a step forward, incensed by his frustration. “Even before - your people attacked me before I became this! Or did you forget that part, too?! New Year’s! Twice after work! They ********’ left me out on the streets to rot! Is that what you do now, too?! Leave people lyin’ in ********’ ditches in the dead of night, huh?! Helpin’, helpin’ my a** - !”
Eurydike shouldn’t have… but he almost regretted saying it. Almost. Not because he didn’t think he was right, but for the way Cerussite looked at him after he said it. Wasn’t this easier, though? Wasn’t it more honest? - to have him looking at Eurydike with contempt instead of tears, wasn’t it easier?
God it hurts. He hated it. Even from the beginning, back when he’d been - he couldn’t take it, Tolliver being mad at him. It should have been easier. But as much as he flung to the flames of rage, his insides felt like ice. Even more when he heard the name that fell from Cerussite’s lips, his jaw dropping for a few seconds, something altogether indescribable flashing in Eurydike’s eyes because it was too many things at once.
Horror. Sick humor. Anger.
Shamefully, fear.
“Cinnabar.”
He laughed dryly, dragging his hand roughly over his face, and then laughed harder. It wasn’t really a laugh at all. Of course. Of course it was Cinnabar. His stomach sank and flipped and he was sure he was about to be sick. Or would’ve been if he’d eaten anything. “The right thing. Right. Lemme ask you a question then, “ and he gestured almost violently to the scars on his face, his eyes flashing, “Are these the right thing then, huh?! - remember when I got these?!”
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“I hear,” said Cerussite fiercely. “I hear you, but that’s not - they’re not who you think they are! You’re just putting words in my mouth, that’s not what they do, they - “ He swallowed hard, hating the anger that welled up inside of him, hated the frustration that clogged his throat, the anxiety that made his hands shake.
Hated himself for losing everything he had once cared for, all in one, fell swoop.
“I haven’t forgotten!” he snapped, flaring up at once. “I haven’t forgotten at all! Why do you think I’m doing this in the first place? But those weren’t by us, those - those were from the other ones, the ones who only pretend to be on the good side. Those are the ones that we’re fighting against, they’re the ones that are causing the trouble, that are causing pain, I don’t - I wouldn’t hurt someone like that!”
It stung, to think that Eurydike thought he would. Cerussite’s head was spinning, his chest throbbing, heaving with each breath that he took, stabbing into his heart. Icy coldness had settled into him that had nothing to do with the chill air or the snow still softly falling around them, dampening strands of Cerussite’s hair so that it stuck wetly to his flushed cheeks.
He dragged in a ragged breath, and had those eyes that were looking at him with such disgust and anger now really looked at him with love and devotion once upon a time, not even a week ago..? It seemed impossible, now. The fury and hatred were so prominent on Eurydike’s face that it was almost unbearable, but Cerussite kept his eyes focused, hands shaking.
The anger rose again, then fell into confusion. Cerussite stared at Eurydike, trying to figure out his meaning, trying to figure out the insinuation, the reason -
“No,” he said, and shook his head slowly, blackness sweeping across his heart, icy fingers in his chest. “No, you’re - you’re wrong, she - “
Cinnabar was strong. She was powerful, ruthless, but she had been patient with Cerussite, had taken the time to teach him, to let him grow and develop on his own. She’d promised him strength and delivered it, had given him the chance to get what he needed. Cerussite, in spite of his fears and anxieties, had needed the strong hand that Cinnabar had provided.
It couldn’t be a lie. It was impossible, it was just Eurydike trying to get him to change, that was it. Eurydike, using his own scars as his advantage.
A hot fury raced through his veins, sudden and unexpected. He was only half aware of what he was doing, only dimly cognizant of the fact that he was stepping forward, and his gloved hand reared back and aimed directly for Eurydike’s cheek with a sharp slap.
“No,” said Cerussite again, and he couldn’t quite catch his breath, eyes flashing, the tightness in his voice thickening each word so that it was spat out in incredulity. “No, that’s a lie, she would never - and you - how dare you use that night just to try and prove your point, after all - after everything we went through, you’re seriously trying to use that against me, now?”
His voice rose in octaves, so that by the end of it, he was yelling.
“How dare you try and manipulate me like that, you bloody coward!”
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The ones that pretend. Again, Eurydike had to wonder if Cerussite could hear himself - “I don’t know. I don’t know why you’re doing this at all besides some ******** up ploy for power, “ he snapped, just saying the first thing that came to mind, however it stung to say it and however right or wrong he thought he might be… because even if he was on the right side, and Eurydike knew he was, he still didn’t take any kind of stock in his own words. He knew he always said the wrong things at the wrong times. He knew he wasn’t good enough or smart enough for this.
Or strong enough. Strong enough to be there for Tolliver so that this never happened in the first place. If he’d been stronger, maybe -
It was not the first time Tolliver had ever slapped him. But this one stung more than any of the others had, sending laces of pure agony seeping into his chest - and whether he wanted it to or not, there was an instant where raw hurt was etched all over his face. Unlike the other times, he lashed out, snatching Cerussite’s wrist roughly in his hand, all but snarling at him.
“How dare you, “ he hissed, “How dare you ********’ - “ Choose her over me. “ - think I’d lie to you about somethin’ like this, you son of a b***h! You know her so ********’ well, look at me! Count the claw marks! You’ve seen the ones on my back! I tried to stop her from killin’ someone, an’ she almost ********’ - if your goddamn brother hadn’t come - !”
He exhaled hard through his nose, steam rising in the night air, “You’re the one bein’ manipulated! How the ******** can’t you see that?! - you’re not this blind, baby!” And through all the rage, the frustration, there was a note of pleading there, however brief and subtle though it was.
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He remembered, all too well, his own accident. How the smell of the flames had been one of the most prominent things in his senses. How the feel of them burning across his leg had been one of the most painful things he’d ever experienced in his life, fire licking through his clothing to sear across flesh, the acrid stench of burnt metal and skin in the air. He’d thought then, that he would never feel anything more painful.
This was almost more painful. If anything, it was on the same level, and Eurydike had not even hit him, had only grabbed him, but though the pain was not delivered in a physical manner, it might as well have been. Each word was a knife, or a dart. Each syllable, dripping with disdain and anger was another slap in the face.
And Cerussite saw it. The brief, flickering moment, barely visible, when all of Eurydike’s emotions were laid bare across his face, and every question that Cerussite had thought now rushed over him again, all at once, until he felt dizzy with it.
But then fingers seized his wrist, and he was snapped terribly, horribly, back into his own mind.
“It’s not - you can’t possibly expect me to believe that!” he snapped, and tried to yank his wrist away, anger and frustration building once more - but they were tinged also by a sense of growing humiliation, a tiny, nagging doubt planted in his mind.
But - no - he couldn’t think that way, he had to focus, he had to remember all of the things he had been told.
“I’m not - I never chose her over you, I was doing this for you,” Cerussite gasped, and with a wrench he pulled his wrist free, hands slamming into Eurydike’s chest to force him back. “How dare you, don’t you - don’t you dare, I’m not stupid, this isn’t - this isn’t about any of that, this is about me being stronger, the way I should be, I was doing this to protect you and all you’re doing is throwing it back in my face! You can’t tell me - “ His voice rang out, too loud, but he didn’t seem to notice, nor care. “ - you can’t tell me that everything I’ve done - that all the work I’ve done is all for nothing, that I’ve just got my head up some clouds!”
Baby, whispered a part of his mind. He called you baby. He still -
No. No.
“Don’t - “ His voice was thick with hurt, with anger. “I’m not - I’m not that anymore, you don’t have the right to tell me how to live my life, Eurydike.”
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It wasn’t as hard as it should have been to push Eurydike back. He was shorter by a bit, but that mattered little when he was built the way he was, thick and toned and lean - he let it happen. He let it happen, feeling a brief wave of misery wash over him, and when he was like that - it was like all the energy was sapped from him, much like in those months he’d spent staring up at the ceiling after work, talking to the specter of his mother and letting his drums gather dust.
It’d clung to him in the days after he’d found out the truth about Tolliver. Now, even now, he was fumbling for rage, trying to spark it like a lighter to keep himself going. He pushed you. Get angry. He’s calling you a liar. He’d sooner believe a demon woman than you -
Amazing that Tolliver knew what he was thinking without him having to come out and say it - but it might have just meant he knew full well what he was doing, putting Cinnabar before him. Fritz would’ve been one thing; if he’d placed his brother over Hitch, it would’ve hurt him. But on some level he would’ve understood, because ******** if he didn’t know how important family was. This was not that. This was a monster. He was buying into a monster’s words, taking them as truth and Hitch’s own as a lie.
And? - why shouldn’t he? Even if Eurydike was right, why should Cerussite believe him? Why should anyone? One more person to see that he wasn’t worth listening to. He thinks you’re stupid. - you called him stupid - he can see through you, he finally knows your words ain’t worth jack s**t -
His fingers curled tight into fists.
To protect you. “You are an idiot, “ he hissed out, fighting to drag himself above water, even if it was in the worst possible way, “Cause it is for nothin’. You’re on the wrong ********’ side. That’s all there is to it.”
The last part - it hurt so impossibly badly, his body shuddered in response, and in a way, Tolliver truly was dead to him in a way after that, wasn’t he? There was no more waking up next to him. No more watching him flounder around the kitchen trying to be useful. No more listening to him sink. Showering with him. Watching him read. Listening to music with him. Just being with him. The bright point in his life was gone, he was reminded, and now it was without a doubt that only Cerussite was left.
“You’re not that anymore, “ he echoed hollowly, shutting his eyes for a few seconds, setting his jaws and sucking in a deep breath. They snapped open again. “Then fight me, Cerussite - if I’m the ********’ enemy to you, if you wanna be strong, then fight me.”
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He felt like breathing took more effort than it should. Like each part of his body was working harder than was normal to drag air into his lungs, painful constrictions of his throat making each one remind him of sawdust on his tongue. Eurydike’s words echoed in his mind, coiled around his thoughts, and it was like a mockery of his lover: the same familiar, wonderful voice, spitting out words full of anger and disbelief.
Eurydike had not believed him, had not given him the benefit of the doubt, had not trusted him. He’d called him stupid, had tried to use his own near death experience to manipulate him into believing that what he said was the truth (what if it was, what if it was what if it was), instead of just - instead of trusting him to do what he knew was right?
Why couldn’t you just trust me?
“It’s not,” Cerussite said, his voice tight with suppressed emotions, desperately clinging onto the shreds of coherency he had left. “It’s - not for nothing, I was doing this - I was doing this for you, and for myself, so I could be stronger, so I wouldn’t - so I didn’t have to be ashamed of myself, and you’re throwing it back in my face like it’s nothing!”
Like you don’t even care.
He was trembling now, whether from fear or anger, he wasn’t even sure himself.
Don’t do this to me. Don’t do this to me, don’t leave me alone, you promised -
With a gasp that was almost a cry of anger, Cerussite leapt forward, seizing the front of Eurydike’s clothes. Even in this state, he knew he was ill matched; Eurydike was more powerful than him, and here he was, back where he’d started, too weak to do anything at all. Too weak, always, to protect what was important to him. To protect Fritz.
To protect Hitch.
You said you’d never leave me.
With a snarl, he shoved hard, pushing back on Eurydike’s chest.
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Posted: Sat Feb 06, 2016 9:52 pm
“You’re repeatin’ yourself.” Stop saying it again and again. Stop trying to change his mind - because he’d considered it - he had, against all rational reason, full of bourbon and trying so hard to forget - but he knew - “We’re on different sides now. That’s all there is to it. Your people want my people dead or corrupted.”
He glared at him, trying to mask the fact that there was maybe just the slightest shine to his eyes. “It’s not nothin’. It’s the biggest ********’ mistake you ever ********’ made, ‘cause there’s no comin’ back from it. You chose this - “ He gestured vaguely to Cerussite, to his uniform, all of him. “ - over me. We can’t come back together again without losin’ ourselves, y’know. If I go to you, I won’t be me anymore, an’ it’s the same for you. That’s a fact, an’ you’re actin’ like it’s not - Celsus can’t even join you if he wanted to. Or didn’t you know that? - you can’t protect an enemy, Cerussite.” He’d told him to call him that… and so that’s what it was. That’s how the cards had been lain, and how it would stay.
Eurydike felt so sick. Not just physically. Just… sick.
The suddenness of Cerussite’s shove took him by surprise, making him gasp and stumble, his sandals flopping against the pavement. It took mere moments for his face to darken, clinging fast to his roots, to all the fights he’d known in his life that he’d sooner taken over crying. Be a man about it, Logan. Smarten up.
I don’t want to hurt Tolliver.
This isn’t Tolliver.
God Mom would be so ashamed, wouldn’t she?
This was what he’d gone against her wishes, her memory for.
With a howl that was almost inhuman, he swung a fist at the man he loved.
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“No - “ Who was it that had said words could never hurt? What lies they must have told themselves. “ - no, I don’t want people - dead, I would - never - no - “
No coming back from it.
The truth - the weight - of these words seemed to sink into Cerussite more powerfully than anything else. He felt as though the world had just dropped out from beneath him; as though his heart had just cracked, splintered to glass shards now crumpled underfoot. Breathing was an agony, a luxury he could not afford.
Eurydike did not want him anymore. Logan did not want him anymore.
It was over.
The howl of his voice made Cerussite stumble, but the blow caught him around his side, and he gasped with pain and rage, staggering against one of the brick walls of the alleyway. He pushed himself up, the pain of the hit dulled in comparison to the realization that Eurydike had actually hit him. The man who’d promised never to hurt him, never to leave him.
To always love him.
Don’t do this.
Don’t make me do this.
Questions, too many questions, he couldn’t answer any of them, and yet the most important one of all was pressing against his mind, filling his thoughts until there was nothing else.
Do you still love me?
And then there was blinding rage, sadness, hurt. Cerussite gave another cry of anger and swung his leg up, aiming to drive his knee into Eurydike’s chest, teeth gritted.
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If Eurydike could’ve gotten into Cerussite’s head and heard what he was thinking, he might have really never forgiven him. Of course he wanted Tolliver - but now, with the choice that he’d made? With the secret he’d kept? I did it for you. I did it to protect you. By going to Cinnabar. To Cinnabar of all the ******** people it could have been -
There was a split second after his fist connected that Eurydike’s eyes widened. But the truth of the matter, when it all boiled down to it, was You made me do this. What did he think? That after this, they could just continue on as they were? That somehow it would be okay?
But nothing was. Nothing would be. And he hated himself for not knowing better, just as much as he hated himself for not being enough to keep Tolliver safe, even from himself. Nothing good ever stayed that way. It’d been the ******** story of his life up until then. It’d always be that way.
A brief, fluttering wave of misery settled onto his heart like a fresh layer of snow, building on something that was already too deep to manage on his own - the knee connected and he howled again, catching him beneath the knee and pushing it to a side, but still holding it, trying to throw him off balance (and trying not to worry about Tolliver’s bad leg, trying not to fall prey to concern in the face of an enemy), swinging in closer to try and return the blow by aiming for his stomach.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I don’t want to do this.
Don’t make me do this, don’t make me hurt you, don’t hurt me, don’t -
It was too late. They’d gone too far already, he’d gone too far. The feel of Eurydike’s fist against his side brought everything into sharp relief, a reminder of what had broken, what had been lost already. The promises they had made were not just crumbled, but dust now, dissipating into nothingness so that what lay between them instead was ashes.
Anger was replacing the frustration, because it was easier. It was easier to feel rage that Eurydike would not listen to him, would not trust him, trust that he knew what he was doing, easier to let the fury bubble up inside of him than allowing the hurt to tear at his heart. Cerussite wanted to scream, wanted to shriek until there was nothing left of his voice at all.
Instead, he just twisted, let out a sharp cry of mingled pain and anger as Eurydike’s blow landed where it had been aimed. Cerussite gasped, a half-strangled, choking sound, one arm automatically flying to his stomach, the wind entirely knocked out of him. He staggered back, hit the wall again, brick scraping at his back through the uniform, and pushed off of it again, eyes flashing.
There were no words. He didn’t have them anymore. All he had was this, the emotions, the thickness of his throat, the tightness of his chest, the way it felt like he was collapsing in on himself.
It was hard to breathe. He couldn’t think past the anger, didn’t want to let himself, couldn’t let himself.
Eurydike was not his anymore.
Logan was not his anymore, and he was not Logan’s.
A howl escaped, from Cerussite this time, and he lunged forward with a snarl. He was not a fighter, had never been a fighter, and Eurydike had both time and body type against him, but it didn’t matter. He grabbed for Eurydike’s arms, his wrists, trying to hold them so he could drive his knee up into his stomach, all rational thought escaping him.
His vision blurred. He blinked it away, teeth clenched.
I never wanted this.
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The sensation of his fist striking Cerussite’s side was not as satisfying as he wanted. It just made his insides twist again, because it just - it wasn’t supposed to be this. He wanted to keep Tolliver safe, not - but what else was there? What else was there? Anger was easier than the darkness in him, and it always had been.
Why did you do this to me?
That was a question he couldn’t ask, more than just a simple ‘why do this’... it was a betrayal. An unknowing one at first, maybe, but a betrayal nonetheless.
Experience, size, yes, he did have those. It didn’t matter. All the experience in the world didn’t take away from the fact that Eurydike, when emotional, functioned with blinders on. He was more than capable - but this? It all but rendered him blind, and it was easier than it should been to grasp those wrists that Tolliver had kissed the insides of and hold them fast, even as the senshi snarled in indignation, giving way to a choked sound moments later when that knee made impact.
He almost doubled over, but instead straightened, trying to shake his hands from Cerussite’s grasp with the same kind of wildness that was more animal than man. He had to ignore the flash of brightness he saw in those brilliant green eyes. Don’t, don’t cry, stop it, stop it - ! But it was gone as quickly as it’d come. And with him not shaking the officer as quickly as he wanted to, as the sound of footsteps coming closer registered with him - he thought back to another time in an alley, another time they hadn’t wanted to be caught, another time that had been so different from this, built on trust and love - it was an impulsive move. He finally snatched a hand away and a phone appeared in it moments later.
All it took was the click of a button.
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He hated that sound; the half-strangled choking noise sent shivers up and down Cerussite’s spine, nausea roiling in his stomach. Like nails on a chalkboard, it made his head spin with the frustration of it all, and he recoiled slightly, his eyes widening, his chest heaving. His grasp on Eurydike’s wrists slackened, just a little bit.
I don’t want to do this, I don’t want to hurt you, I don’t want to cause you pain, why can’t you just go back to loving me like you once did -
Cerussite recognized the wildness but it had never been directed at him. He’d never been the recipient of those half-frenzied eyes, the snarls of fury that were not of passion, but of utmost disgust and anger. Agony was in his veins, seeping through his entire body until it was all he knew, until each breath was one of desperation to just stay alive.
Trust and love. Two things he no longer could get from Eurydike, from Logan.
The footsteps were coming nearer. Cerussite felt the panic well in his throat, but before he could do anything, before he could even react, he saw the flash of what was in Eurydike’s hand and realized just what he was about to do, even if the understanding of it all was convoluted, confusion and rage twisting blackly in his mind.
“No - no - “
But too late. It’s too late for anything, he knew, once they reappeared, in a completely unfamiliar place that had his heart stopping in his chest.
“What - where have you brought me, what the bloody hell are you doing - “
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They were on a mountain, and high on it. Clouds hung all around them, some engulfing them and leaving traces of condensation in their hair. They were ominous, too, thick and heavy and the kind of dark gray that was usually reserved for pavement. It was much warmer than it had been back on Earth, whatever traces of the snow that’d clung to them rapidly melting away into nothing but water. Down below them, on and off they’d be able to catch sight of the wide, vast planes of nothing beneath - like a desert. There was a place beside them, an entrance of sorts, decorated on either side by what appeared to be weathered and worn Roman pillars.
“Eurydike, “ the senshi heaved out, breaking away from Cerussite’s grasp with a snarl - and then seemed to think better of it, making an attempt to grab the officer’s own, shoving against his chest with his other hand to try and push him up against one of the pillars. “This is Eurydike.”
I didn’t want you seeing it like this.
A pang of bitter remorse twisted in his stomach, achingly sad. He’d imagined it before, what it might be like if one day - he didn’t want Tolliver involved in this life. But he’d still wondered what it might be like to show him one day, if it happened, to see the elaborate tunnels and the hidden statues formed of salt. Whether he liked it or not, this place was personal, it was connected to him - he was its guardian and it was his power.
This wasn’t supposed to be like this.
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His eyes moved rapidly around his new surroundings, wide and - while not quite fearful - panicked in a way. This was unfamiliar territory, new ground, and yet - and yet it was Eurydike. This was his homeworld, this was...where he was from, in a roundabout way. Cerussite did not know much of the senshi homeworlds, only from what he’d been briefly taught by the others, but he had not expected it to be an actual…world. A terrible, frantic part of him had a sudden desire to go exploring, to see each and every part of this planet that he was now standing on, so that he could maybe learn more about Eurydike, the person, so that he could learn everything about him as he had once so desperately wanted to.
Still wanted to. But that was no longer an option.
Cerussite let out a sound of surprise as Eurydike’s fingers caught one of his wrists, and then he found himself shoved backwards, his feet stumbling over the ground, his back slamming into what felt like one of the pillars. His breath knocked out of him, and he stared at Eurydike, chest heaving. He yanked at his pinned wrist and braced his other hand against the senshi’s chest, trying to push him back, a sense of too-much familiarity rising in his heart.
How many times had they been in this exact position before, or something similar? And how many times had it ended with them laughing, faces flushed, pressing constant kisses to each other’s reddened mouths because they had been so unbelievably happy?
Tolliver, the person, had never thought he would have been so happy, and maybe he should have kept that belief.
He met Eurydike’s gaze, defiant, though the steady flush across his pale, freckled cheeks belied his anxiety, heartbeat erratic.
“Let me go,” he snapped. “Take me - “
He couldn’t say home. He had no home anymore.
“ - back.”
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Eurydike knew full well how many times they’d stood in much the same way, inches between them that felt more like miles, his mouth descending mercilessly on Tolliver’s, to feel the smooth metal of that piercing. Three days ago had been the last time. They’d been in the kitchen, and they’d been happy then, too.
Some part of him resented Fritz, irrationally - resented him for feeling the need to tell Hitch the truth, to share his burden of truth with him not for the first time, to destroy what small piece of happiness he had in his life. If it’d been him, yeah, he knew he would’ve done the same thing. But given the choice, he would’ve rather stayed ignorant. This - he didn’t want to know. He hadn’t needed to know that Cerussite and Tolliver were one in the same.
He did, though - and there was no taking it back.
Some other part of him, maybe deeper down still, thought that maybe Fritz had done it deliberately… told him because he couldn’t stand to see Hitch happy with Tolliver. That maybe if he knew how he’d been suffering since, if maybe then he’d feel better about himself. With as much as the redhead hated him, the sad thing was, it wouldn’t have surprised him.
The thought just made him feel worse.
The hand against his chest did not succeed in pushing him away. He tried not to break eye contact with Cerussite, tried to ignore the fact that he’d stared adoringly into those eyes so many times, his jaw set and chin held high.
“Make me.”
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Three days felt like three years. Three days felt like an entire lifetime that was spread out in between them, a desert unable to be crossed. Not going back to their little apartment had been agonizing, Cerussite’s feet automatically wanting to carry him that way each and every time he powered down. He’d stood outside on the street and stared up at it the first night, but he hadn’t been able to bring himself back a second time, or at all. It was too painful, in spite of the fact that all of his things were still there.
He couldn’t go and get them.
He couldn’t do anything.
My home is gone. You’re gone.
What have I been doing this for all along?
Cerussite felt his chest tighten. He kept his gaze fixed determinedly on Eurydike’s, but those words - make me - were not said lovingly, or adoringly, or teasingly. It was not a playful, dark promise of something more, it was a hard, flat refusal, anger instead of love lacing the words, and Cerussite felt his hand tremble in Eurydike’s grasp.
It was not meant in a good way, and yet he felt the old, achingly familiar thrill up his spine, felt the painful realization seeping into him, the agonizing feeling of having something so close and yet not close at all. And Eurydike knew him, or had once known him. Knew his likes and dislikes, his passions and dislikes.
His heart. His soul. Everything there was to know was laid out in front of him, and Eurydike - Logan - had accepted it all, even when Tolliver had been too ashamed to let him know. There had been no disgust, only a gentle, eager welcoming, a support that Tolliver had desperately needed all of this time.
Heat was rising in his face. Eurydike was too close. Cerussite’s fingers curled in the front of his clothes, pressed against his chest, and the anger still pulsed, but he was shaking now, almost afraid to move, as though any small movement would snap the tension that was suddenly thick and harsh between them.
He licked dry lips and stared at Eurydike, hating himself.
“Logan,” he whispered.
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He knew. Of course he did. Whether or not Tolliver knew it (or wanted to accept it), his heart, his soul, his preferences… these had all been accepted as readily as they had for a reason. It wasn’t as though Hitch just did what Tolliver wanted because it made him feel good, even if he very much would have done anything for him given the chance. (Anything but corrupt; that was one step he could not take. Aside from knowing this was right, rather than any attachment to ‘Logan Hitchcock’, his mother - there was no one else that could remember her. If he forgot, then… ) He accepted Tolliver because he hadn’t even known he needed what it was his lover had to offer him until it was presented to him. It was as much about discovery for Hitch as it was about acceptance for Tolliver, and maybe the same could be said both ways, because god knew Tolliver had accepted many, many flaws on Hitch’s part, so many slips and falls in the months they’d spent together. An acceptance he’d never known anywhere else in all his life.
That’s how he knew in that moment before it happened that something had shifted - and those fingers were curling in the fabric of his fuku, and Cerussite’s face was flushed, making him beautiful like Tolliver when he looked at him with half-lidded eyes and secretive smiles that were shown to no one else. His eyes flashed to the pink of Cerussite’s tongue as it flicked across his lips, catching sight briefly of the silver of his piercing and feeling a pang of something heavy alongside the fury still pounding uselessly on the inside of his chest against his lover’s hand.
He said his name - he said it the way only he could, and -
It cut like a knife, making his entire body tense, and if he were like an animal, Eurydike tensed, much like one cornered although he was the one keeping Cerussite pinned. “Don’t.” His voice quivered, and he hated himself for it. Almost as much as he hated the way he leaned closer after he said it, drawn to the officer and his dry lips like a planet in orbit; helpless.
“Don’t, “ and he sounded more firm then, but in a quieter way, and ultimately ineffective when his lips pressed roughly against Cerussite’s own, his hold on that wrist tightening, maybe painfully. Don’t what then, Hitch? - don’t call me Logan? don’t do this? don’t make me kiss you? - no matter what, it made him no less a hypocrite, in this moment maybe more than any other.
He hated how much he’d missed this.
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All he’d wanted his entire life was that acceptance, that support. He’d never gotten it from Fritz, though his brother had tried, even if he hadn’t fully understood or even known the extent of Tolliver’s struggles, or all that he hid beneath the surface. He’d been terrified to tell Hitch in the beginning, wondering when the breaking point was, wondering when his preferences or his personality would push Hitch past the point of acceptance into disgust.
He hadn’t thought it would be this. That the breaking point would be here and now, when Cerussite had fought so long and so hard to do something good, only to have it thrown back in his face like it meant nothing.
It had never meant nothing. It had always meant something.
His chest tightened.
Don’t.
Don’t what, was the clear rest of the sentence. Don’t call me that, don’t act like you still know me, don’t pretend -
Never. He had never once pretended. And that was what made it the hardest, made the pain all the more real, because nothing in his life with Logan Hitchcock had ever been a lie on Tolliver’s part.
Eurydike’s voice was too soft. He was still too close, and as he leaned closer, Cerussite felt his breath hitch in his throat, fingers curling against his palm as the hand on his wrist tightened past comfortability levels. But he did not want comfort now, and wasn’t even sure he could handle it, could hardly handle the fact that there was scarcely an inch between them now, and that the heat was rising fast in his face and in his chest and sweeping throughout the rest of him.
And then Eurydike’s lips were on his, and he was drowning, he was breaking apart at the seams -
Don’t do this, don’t do this, don’t make this harder than it already is.
A soft whimper escaped, muffled against Eurydike’s mouth, and he took a great, shuddering breath.
Don’t let me go.
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That whimper left a dull ache in his chest because he knew. He knew this was still Tolliver under all this, and it killed him - it would have been easier if it had been a lie. At least then he could have hated being, could have protected himself, could have -
But, no. No, it was real. The man he loved had gone to the wrong side in some bout of misguided heroism, and now this was it. The person he loved, the only person in the world that could have possibly loved him back after knowing half the demons he carried, was on the other side. It wasn’t something they could accept and start to move on from, like Hitch’s debt, Tolliver’s accident. Not when Tolliver still thought he was right. Not when there was no way guaranteed that the man he loved could ever come back to him if he saw the truth.
He kissed him harder, pinning his hand above his head and against the pillar. Tolliver was still here with him. But he was also already dead. They were already dead and gone, and who was there to blame but Hitch himself?
He wanted him, still. He wanted him and he hated how much he still wanted him, needed him. He hated everything for how hopeless this situation really was.
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It hurt. It might as well have been a physical pain, because that was what it felt like, twisting inside of his chest, seizing his heart so that each breath made it feel like he was trying desperately to drag in air that felt cloying and thick.
He’d lost him. He’d lost the one man that he had ever felt so deeply for, lost the only person in his life that he had ever thought would be capable of loving him, of accepting him, of not letting him go. And Tolliver had believed him when he’d said that he would never give him up, had believed him when Hitch had told him that he would always love him.
Do you still love me?
Do you still want me?
He didn’t want to know the answer to the questions burning through his mind, didn’t want to hear the words that were bound to shatter his heart even further than it already was, because Cerussite knew the truth of his own heart and mind.
I still love you.
I still want you, I still need you.
Another whimper escaped as the kiss grew deeper, Cerussite’s lips parting beneath Eurydike’s forceful ministrations. His wrist throbbed where it was being pushed against the pillar, but the fingers of Cerussite’s other hand curled in the front of Eurydike’s tunic briefly, then slid up, grasping the back of his neck, delving into the hair at the nape.
Pressed so close together was painful. Cerussite’s hips jerked abruptly into Eurydike’s, and his teeth sank into his lower lip with a snap, with glassy eyes that were fixated on Eurydike’s face.
Don’t be kind to me. He strained against the hand holding him with little intention of breaking free. Don’t be nice to me. I can’t stand it, your kindness burns, I can’t - I need
But Eurydike knew what he needed, because he’d never had to say it before, and didn’t have to say it now.
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Posted: Sun Feb 07, 2016 1:34 pm
And then, slowly but surely, he started to come to his senses again and the realization of what was going to happen now was seeping into his mind, and he couldn’t stop it.
He couldn’t stop any of it.
A choking, half-strangled sob left him, and then another. And then -
“Logan,” he whispered desperately, thickly through the tears that would not stop, and it was the only word that came to his mind, the only thought that had ever meant anything at all. “Logan.”
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Every sob pierced him like Cinnabar’s claws.
”Don’t, “ he hissed, and maybe too harshly, he pulled away from him - he let his hair hang deliberately in his face as he shook his head, choking on air, trying to obscure the tears in his eyes. You don’t get to do this to me. You don’t - “You did this. You did this, you chose this, you - “
It ached. It burned. It -
“Why the ******** do you get to cry?!” he snapped, his hands tight at his sides in shaking fists. Even though he knew this was who Tolliver was. This was how it’d always been. He was emotional, beautiful, with a soft heart and gentle hands and - “You don’t get to ********’ cry over this!! You just don’t!”
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He let out a small, ragged sound, half a gasp as Eurydike pulled away, his heart protesting the loss. Cerussite’s fingers curled against the pillar as he leaned against it, dragging lungfuls of air in that did not seem to fill up all of the space that he needed. He tried to drag himself back up to a standing position, but his clothes were in disarray, and he felt raw, exposed.
I didn’t choose this.
I didn’t choose losing you.
His head rose. With some difficulty, Cerussite shifted, pulling the uniform back into its proper place on his slender frame with some difficulty. His eyes burned, his chest aching with each and every breath that he took.
He turned around until he was facing Eurydike, the tears still wet across his face, and for a moment, there was just a pained, awful silence.
A hand lifted, touched the back of Eurydike’s neck.
And then Tolliver had surged forward and kissed him, an almost savage kiss in its intensity, every single ounce of lingering passion and desperation and emotion poured into it. His fingers dug into Eurydike’s nape, the kiss open mouthed and half frenzied, teeth sinking almost viciously into Eurydike’s lower lip.
When he pulled away, he was breathing heavily. Cerussite’s eyes were shut, and for just - for the briefest of moments, he let his forehead rest against Eurydike’s, in these last seconds before he knew it would all, truly, be over. His fingers slid down, pressing against Eurydike’s chest where he could feel the heart beating beneath the ribs; letting himself feel, for the last time, the way that he was just, simply alive.
One more kiss - it would never be enough, would never, ever be enough - soft and barely even a kiss, ghosted over Eurydike’s lips before Cerussite finally took a step back, and let his arms fall to his sides. His eyes were misty, and swallowing was painful, but he did it anyway, his eyes tracing the lines of Eurydike’s face as though desperate for a final attempt at memorizing each and every one of his features.
I still love you.
He swallowed hard, once more, and closed his eyes.
“Eurydike,” said Cerussite softly, “Take me back to Earth.”
He was falling apart and there was nothing more.
“Please.”
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The silence strangled him. It wrapped its hands around his neck and squeezed so tight he thought he might gag, It would be the last time he saw those hips, wouldn’t it? - it would be the last time he got to know Tolliver like this - and he’d pulled away, he’d yelled, he’d - in spite of what he’d just said, the sight of tears on his lover’s face ached, because he wasn’t supposed to be the one to make him cry, maybe happy tears, but never -
There was a hand on his neck, suddenly, and Eurydike made a sound in the back of his throat, more like a wounded animal than a person, stiffening in response. His eyes were wide and entirely too bright in the few seconds that Tolliver - Cerussite - would see him before he kissed him, A breath, harsh and ragged, was sucked in through the super senshi’s nose -
-but he made no effort to pull away. That, he couldn’t do. His greatest regret was he was caught so off-guard, it wasn’t enough time - when he was finally able to pull it together and kiss back, to express even a fraction of what he wanted to to his lover, his world, his everything - it was already done. It was already in the past, and in moments, he would never be this close to Tolliver again, foreheads pressed together, inhaling each other’s scent, just being close and sharing in each other’s warmth, comfort, love.
Eurydike realized his face was wet - all of him was wet. He didn’t know when the clouds above them had finally opened up and left them standing in the midst of a downpour. Eurydike still didn’t understand his planet, the way that it worked, why and how it did what it did - but as lackluster as it seemed to be at a glance, in that moment, he was grateful for it. The last thing he wanted was for Cerussite to realize he was crying.
(At least that’s what he thought. But from the lines and creases of Hitch’s face, maybe he already knew.)
He wished more than anything in that moment that he could be say what he meant - that words were not so difficult to come by, because there were so many he longed to say. He wanted to say he still loved him. He wanted to tell him to kiss him again, that he’d rather die than that be the last. He wanted to say he was sorry. That they didn’t have to leave. That they could just stay here like this, that they could hide from the war together, and then it wouldn’t matter anymore who was on what side, they’d make it work. More than anything, he wanted to tell him to come back home because there was no home for him without Tolliver by his side.
Instead, he said nothing.
Instead, he just touched both of Cerussite’s forearms, and in moments, they were back where they’d started - Eurydike could see his breath on the air as rain gave way to snow, and moments later, he dropped the disguise. Hitch stood where the super senshi had, snow already catching in his hair, making his cheeks red, sticking to his flannel around his shoulders. He wasn’t wearing a jacket. Instead, he shoved his hands roughly into his pocket, a flash of silver making itself known before it vanished.
He opened his mouth. Then closed it again, shutting his eyes.
Why can’t I say anythin’? - because I’d rather say nothin’ than goodbye. Don’t make me say goodbye.
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It was raining, but he was hardly aware of it. His hair stuck in wet clumps to his face, starkly red against the pale flush of his cheeks, and Cerussite didn’t want to leave.
He didn’t want to walk away. He didn’t want to turn his back on this man, did not want to lose him. The ache of his presence was painful; Cerussite wanted to step forward and bury his face in that familiar chest, breathe in his scent listen to his heartbeat and let it reverberate against his own. A desperate, powerful need to stay exactly where he was - to say screw it and simply stay here, on this planet, with Eurydike and no one else.
But he couldn’t. Neither of them could.
And he knew, even in the rain, that Eurydike was crying.
Hands touched Cerussite’s arms; he felt a jolt at it, a painful tugging of his heart as they disappeared, reappearing a second later back in the familiar, cold air of Destiny City. It was no longer a senshi in front of him, but Hitch - Logan Hitchcock, his lover, his fiance, his favorite person; the most important person in the world to him.
Even if everything was breaking apart, that would never change.
For a moment there was nothing but silence between them. Cerussite remembered, in a moment that seemed a lifetime ago, a time when Hitch had told him that he had trouble speaking, saying what it was that was inside of his head. He’d begged for him to understand that, and Tolliver had. Words were not always necessary, but Hitch’s struggle with finding the right words had always frustrated him, however patient Tolliver was.
A hand reached out, almost of its own accord. Cerussite was still powered, but he didn’t stop, instead reaching for Hitch’s left hand. He pulled it out of the pocket Hitch had pushed it into and held it up, so that the ring Tolliver had gotten for him gleamed in the moonlight.
Cerussite’s hands were shaking. He lifted Hitch’s hand and closed his eyes, pressing his lips to the space just above the engagement ring, lingering there for a long moment with damp cheeks and a heart that seemed desperate to press itself out of his chest. For a second, he slid his fingers through Hitch’s, lacing them tightly together, and kissed the same spot again, breath shuddering out of him, and a drop from the corner of his eye fell, sinking into Hitch’s skin.
He didn’t want to let go. It felt like letting go of his entire world, everything that was good, everything that meant something at all to him.
Slowly, with every part of himself screaming just to hold on, Cerussite let go of Hitch’s hand.
He took a step back, and it hurt. A painful, soft smile found its way onto his face, his eyes filling with tears once more that he couldn’t stop. Cerussite took another step, and words had failed him, the world had failed him.
He couldn’t say goodbye. He couldn’t.
His head rose and fell in a small nod, and his eyes, still fixed on Hitch’s, said I love you without words.
And then, turning, tearing himself away because he was shattering inside, Cerussite left, and finally, all of it, was well and truly over.
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