Written By: Hikari Riku
Pairing(s): None
Authoress Note(s): This is my OTP of Heroes. P equals Pairing as in two people togther. Not romantically. Although I am definitely still not against it. The Prompt is Hunger. Once again, it contains **SPOILERS!**. Just in case you're blind and somehow missed it, or maybe just stupid or something. . .
Lying on that bed with a sedative drip feeding into him, he strains his ears, listening. Trying to hear the familiar sound of those footsteps. Steady, buoyant footsteps.
Calm, like any normal (sane) person. Which is one thing he most certainly isn't.
He's hungry, after all. So hungry, it's driving him insane. But it isn't food that he wants. Not food at all.
Of course, it doesn't matter anyway because he hasn't heard them. Those footsteps. Not for so long, by now, he wishes he could die.
That's just another thing that doesn't matter. He knows wishing for it won't make it any less unlikely. Wishing won't end his suffering. Make his pain go away.
It won't erase the memory of all the people he's killed. And it won't make the hunger stop. But then there are those footsteps. . .
Steady, buoyant footsteps that echo down the hall and make him want to cry as the door opens and those footsteps move inside the room. Walking to his side.
A moment later he can feel those fingers running through his hair, brushing it back in a soothing way. It's a touch he's almost used to. Like the question that always follows. "How are you feeling?"
He doesn't answer and the soothing feeling stops.
"Brother?" There are symphonies of trepidation in that word. Fake or real, he doesn't really know, but it doesn't matter. Still, part of him thinks he's being a little too cruel.
Even so, he hesitates. Finally: "I'm hungry." his voice is a whisper, cracked and weak. Not like the almost bitter chuckle of laughter that follows, the one he used to hate.
The one he still hates he affirms, as that voice says: "I know, brother." a pause "I'll be back." and the footsteps start away. It's enough to make him want to cry.
This time though, they stop at the door and walk back to his side. After a pause, he feels the soft brush of lips upon his forehead and that voice says: "I love you."
They recede again and he waits, and waits, and waits. Those footsteps don't come back.
Peter screams himself hoarse.
Finis
Authoress Note(s): Comments?