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The ground from here looks a million miles away. Would it hurt if he fell? Would he bleed out slowly onto the cold snow, waiting for a miserable death to take him away? Or, would he go in an instant? Watching the earth come closer to him, weightlessness taking the place of gravity, then, nothing. He imagines his blood tainting the pure, innocent snow with the story of his woes. His own death plays out before him. With no one there to bury him, his body would freeze. As if paused in time – his body would be forever stuck in the last miserable moments of his life. To the world, there would be one less terrorist seeking to harm the peace.
Worst of all, he could live the fall. He could wait for hours in the snow for something; anything to kill him. Wait for a salvation that would never come, and wait for death to take him away from the world.
As a child, Saparata always had a morbid fascination with the animal carcasses he saw. He stared at them for long bouts of time, soaking in each and every detail. Their guts strewn across the grass, ribs splayed open, blood coating grass blades. Life continued to move around them, flowers bloomed, birds sung, yet they weren’t there to witness it. They only lay, motionless, thoughtless in the dirt, waiting to be returned to the soil that once fed them. Saparata watches as different animals come to pick at the dead animal, taking large chunks of flesh with them, taking advantage of the moment of death. He stared at it until the sun hung low in the sky, painting it a million different impossible colors.
“I’m concerned for you,” A voice said from behind Saparata, “You spend too long looking at these dead animals.”
Saparata didn’t react. He kept his eyes fixed on the carcass, not letting one single detail escape him. “Do you think it fought to live, even knowing it was completely hopeless?”
The boy paused for a minute, then shrugged, caught off guard by the question. “Of course it did. That’s what animals do. They don’t have the capacity to understand the end of their life. It probably thrashed and twitched until all of its energy bled away. Animals don’t give up on surviving, not even when they are being destroyed. Is that enough for you? Will you come home now?” Flux responded.
Saparata didn’t respond. He stood up wordlessly, and walked away from the corpse, sparing it no glance, letting it return to the earth peacefully.
The snow glittered against the moonlight. Saparata had stared at the ground for what must have been hours, weighing his options. Considering the consequences of both choices.There was no one to guide him down this time. Not a single soul left to tell him not to jump down. No one was waiting to mourn him at the bottom of the tower. No one to place bundles of flowers on his grave.
“Saps, don’t leave, don’t go. Not after everything. Please.” Flux said from behind him.
Saparata stood at the edge of the roof he and Flux built together, looking down at the endless stairs leading up to his home. He stood stagnant, waiting to be told his next move. He felt cold hands wrap tightly around his waste, and then he felt a head rest on his shoulder. Flux moved his body weight back, taking Saparata away from the very edge of the roof. They stayed like that for a long time. Swaying their bodies back and forth in some made up rhythm, Saparata's shirt soaking in Flux’s tears. He pulled his hand up, resting it against Flux’s cheek.
After guiding Saps back to their bed, watching him fall into a peaceful rest, Flux snuck off to see his group of conspiracists. He must’ve plotted his death that very night, discussing the gruesome details of how he’d use his suicidal traits against him. He would claim that Saparata killed himself while taking out half of Island One’s leaders. Flux would tell the world about all the times Saparata thought about killing himself to make his story more believable.
He imagined his own hands on Fluixon’s neck. His thumbs pressing into his throat. Watching heartlessly as he begged for his life.
No. Flux would never beg for his life, in the same way that he would never accept his death. He would scrape and strike Saparata’s arms over and over again, violently kicking at his legs, trying everything he could, even though he knew Saparata would not let go. He would trash and twitch until all of his energy faded. He would smile at Saparata, and use his last traces of oxygen to spit in his face.
He looked down into the void, replaying every moment he had once treasured. All of the times Fluixon had smiled at him, all of the times he held him. Saparata sifted through all of them, searching for every moment where his mask cracked, every time Fluixon found a weakness in Saparata he could exploit.
Every single time he was found on the roof. Every single time he confided in him about his dreams about death.
Saparata turned on the ball of his heel, and opened his chest with vigour. He pulled out his sword, and soared down the rickety ladder he hadn’t planned on taking back down. He ran his hands through the porcelain snow, imagining it soaking in blood. He imagined killing Flux with his bare hands, splattering his blood across the floor. Breaking his nose. Cracking all of his ribs. Destroying the face he fell in love with. As he made his first steps toward the city-state of Westhelm, he heard Fluixon's sweet laughter echo through the empty tundra. His voice whispered to Saparata through the wind.
He would first kill Fluixon. Take him apart, make him unrecognizable.
Then, he could kill himself.
Then, he could finally die.
_______________
The sword slipped into Fluixon’s ribs with a violent crunch. Saparata was wrong. Flux did not thrash and strike. He knew it was hopeless. Blood spilled from the side of his lips, falling down and onto the hard floor of the Westhelm Colosseum. Though, Saparata was right about one thing. Flux smiled at him. He glanced down at his sword, and back up at him, and actually fucking smiled. Maybe Saparata did really know him after all.
Saparata unsheathed his sword from inside Fluixon’s chest. Blood spilled out like a geyser, staining the floor beneath him. Flux’s knees buckled instantly. Saparata sunk down to meet him on the ground, waiting to watch his life leave him.
Fluixon’s hands reached up and held onto Saparata’s cheeks, spreading his blood onto them, making hand marks on his face.
His hands were soft. He couldn’t believe it. His first kiss had gone to fucking Fluixon. The notorious snobby asshole. He sat on the grass, letting the sun tan his skin. And there, on top of him, sat his foil. His hands held Saps’ face as he kissed him silly. How Saparata had gotten into the predicament, he doesn’t know.
They were the complete opposite of each other. They never got along, everyone knew of their violent hatred they had harboured for each other.
Though, that wasn’t the complete truth. Flux’s theory was that they hated each other so much that it looped back around the other way. They sat in the grass, tangled together, inseparable. Flux was busy braiding a strand of Saps’ hair; which he proceeded to never take out, never again. Saparata ran his hands through Fluixon’s hair, soaking in every possible detail of the moment. He kissed Flux’s neck gently.
“What do we do now?”
Fluixon just smiled. Looking into Saparata’s eyes, as if searching for an answer in them. Whatever it was, he must have found it.
“I’m sorry, I loved you too.”
“Go to hell.”
“I’ll see you there.”
Fluixon’s hands fell gently to the ground, leaving a trail of blood on Saparata’s white clothes. Fluixon’s entire life had led up to one moment. One last weak, wet cough. His movements ceased all together. His frantic gasping for air now silent, eyes left open.
Saparata was wrong about another thing. He was incapable of heartlessly killing Fluixon.
His sobs echoed in the colosseum, each one louder than the last. Exhaustion layered on his bones, ran through his veins. Every single muscle in his body begged for him to stop.
“Don’t go, don’t jump. I can’t do this without you.”
Fluixon had begged him. Hell, he had even got down on his knees and begged. Fluixon never begged. Never asked for anything.
“I don’t want to spend the rest of my life without you.”
Saparata bled out on the snow, and smiled up at the moon, watched the constellations twinkle above him. The fall didn't hurt at all.
(psst I made a sketch of this fanfic, I don’t know how to make it smaller D:)
