I do not own FDTD or any of its characters. The title and lyrics featured are taken from the song "Nothing" by Ron Pope ft. Alexz Johnson. I have posted this under the same penname on AO3. This is just a short little something but I hope you enjoy!
"You left me nothing, nothing, nothing
Nothing, nothing, nothing at all..."
In hindsight, there are a lot of things Seth is beginning to realize he really fucking hated about the preacher's daughter.
For starters, she was so young. And yeah, while she mostly took care of herself (and of him, sometimes, for that matter), it was really draining having to watch himself all the time, afraid of crossing any more boundaries that weren't even really there anymore, at this point. And he hated that he cared about that at all. The way her Texan drawl always became really evident if he'd let her talk long enough. The way she'd talk too much. When she was right, and how often that was. And that he actually hated her silence more.
He hated everything about her, he realized, and at the same time, he hated nothing at all.
At least there is nothing left to hate now, he tells himself as he stares down his reflection in the mirror. He pretends it isn't a complete lie. The face of a man he doesn't recognize blinks back at him. Except he's not sure he's ever recognized himself.
Kate once told him on a long drive after a failed heist that he was more like a chameleon than a gecko. At the time, it seemed like her attempt at trying to comfort him, paying a compliment to his skills as a criminal at a time she probably felt his ego needed a stroke. He shrugged it off as nothing more than empty words.
He thinks about her comment now and it feels more like a testament to his character. Nothing about him is real. Nothing is consistent. He's only good for one thing, and without Richie or Kate, he's pretty much useless at it.
It's one of the reasons Kate left him, and probably by extension, the reason that she's gone. The same reason he'll end up alone for the rest of his godforsaken life; brotherless, loveless, hopeless.
He'll die on a beach somewhere, maybe. And he might even be rich. But it won't be in anyone's arms, or by anyone's side.
He still finds traces of her everywhere. In the bibles left in the drawers in his motel rooms. In the middle of the night, when he's too tired to move a muscle and has to sleep with the light on. In the long drives filled with silence, a silence that he notices isn't hers. A silence that scares him.
He knows that this is all he has now, and he thinks he hates that the most.