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Back dated to after With another. and just before i will make you hurt
The door closed gently behind him. Darkness was all that greeted him in his apartment until he finally mustered up the will to flick a light switch nestled between the door frame and the wall. The kitchen flared to life, it’s fluorescent lighting doing little to create any sort of calming atmosphere as it flickered into awareness. The light slowly grew in brightness as the bulbs grew warmer, but Aelius barely noticed. He practically threw his keys into the bowl on the counter that stored them safely. The clank of ceramic and metal marking a questionable chance that the bowl had cracked. He didn’t care. He was too tired to.
A numbness had settled over the young man in the wake of the evenings events. It was likely the only reason he’d made it home in one piece. He’d just…left. Left everyone behind. Didn’t say a word after all of the emotional turmoil. None of it was supposed to have happened. It should have been a straight-forward mission. Everyone knew what they were to do.
And he couldn’t wait for the right ******** signal. He’d jumped the gun. The look on Faustites face as he realized, as other’s realized…
Anger flared as the proceedings of the night continued to play out in his memory in what felt like perfect detail. Him jumping too easily, Fafnir following like the supportive brother he’d always been, Zuzu attacking him, and the pure chaos that happened after as he realized his incredible blunder. Faustite’s agony as his youmafication intensified, the rush to the rift, Kamacite words. Words that hurt worse than a physical blow. He’d wished the corrupt had attacked him. It was all deserved.
And somehow, despite it all, things worked out in the end? It was incredibly confusing if also the biggest miracle he could have asked for. Faustite had been spared a full youmaficiation. His boy was now safe. A ******** General King. Helio had been left to limp away after the initial onslaught of emotions. No one had followed. No one said another thing to him. Who could blame them?
Pushing away from the counter he realized he had been leaning against, Aelius grabbed a glass and filled it with water. He downed it and filled it again before shuffling into the living room to practically collapse onto the couch. He was covered in dirt, cuts, blood and whatever else. He should shower. Deep in his subconscious he knew he should but he didn’t seem to care enough to budge from his spot on the furniture. He sat there, staring. Mind shuffling between blank silence and racing with thoughts.
The glass of water hurdled across the narrow room. It hit the wall across from him, narrowly missing the TV. Water splashed everywhere as his head sank into his hands, propped up by elbows on knees. Tears came in gasping hiccups. He was disgusted with himself and what he’d done. He knew he likely had, rightfully, lost any trust he had managed to build with the team and others. All of it ruined by a single, hair-trigger move.
Worst of all though was the fact that he had nearly ended the life of his husband. As much as someone could argue that youmification still meant living, it wasn’t what any of them had wanted. It was the end of Faustite as they knew him and that, that was what tore at Aelius the most. It gnawed at him. Ate him alive as he sat there in his apartment watching the water slowly run down the wall. His blunder had brought about such an incredible pain for the half-youma general that Aelius was sure he’d hear the screams for the rest of his life. “********!” He screamed as he dropped his head into his hands, fingernails digging into his forehead and scalp as they scraped along his skin, dug in, before finally finding a landing zone with purple locks gripped tight between them.
He deserved every punishment. Hell, he would hand over his starseed on a ******** right now. Let them do with it as they wished cause he certainly wasn’t doing any good with it! Let them reign down anything they could think of. He wouldn’t argue. Wouldn’t say a thing. Just take it all while none of it would feel fitting for what he’d nearly caused.
His breathing increased as panic rose from no where. A delayed response to everything? His body and mind finally realizing what had transpired and reacting to the memories that played on repeat.
Suddenly, he rose. A few small scratches from nails digging at skin marred his forehead. He didn’t feel anything physical. He was far from being aware of what he was doing as left the apartment. Lights left on to welcome him home when he came back. He barely remembered fish his keys from the bowl they had just been thrown into as he left the apartment and powered up in the adjoining alleyway with little care if anyone noticed him.
He needed to not be stationary. He needed to do something. Anything. The panic wouldn’t leave and the thumping of his own heart was going to drive him insane if the echoes of Faustites screaming in his ears wouldn’t first. He couldn’t keep reliving the evening. If he did he wasn’t sure where it would lead. Nowhere good, that was for certain.
Did he deserve anything good? He was also keenly aware that he didn’t deserve any sort of reprieve for his mistakes, and letting his mind wander could lead to choices he’d attempted before. He didn’t deserve that. No, what he deserved was to suffer for his choices and accept the punishments to come. Copping out wasn’t an option. So he let the early morning hours bring what they may. Maybe, once there wasn’t a dredge of energy left within him, he’d hobble back to his apartment like a wounded dog.