@one-groovy-rose requested a sad/crying fic with Desmond/Descole (regarding his wife and/or Layton)
Note: You guys can always hmu with a prompt because apparently I signed up for an art class when I decided to take Creative Writing and so I can't come up with any writing ideas for anything because I'm too busy drawing : (just a lil bit salty). So prompts are always, always welcome (and perfectly okay!) because even when I do have time for writing I always take the time to write out a prompt lol (I never want to disappoint the friendos)
Adkjdhkh I should just get on with it. Get on with it Susie you're wasting time
Maybe I'll do both Des and his wife and Des and Layton with two seperate prompts because I absolutely want to do both (I'm trash lol)
Pictures
Raymond had done his best to hide the pictures of the Sycamore family from Des (was he Desmond or Descole now? Even he wasn't sure). The red-eyed man was unstable, the last time he saw a picture of his wife and daughter he had destroyed his bedroom, and Raymond found him tearing at his hair with complete agony as his shoulders heaved.
Raymond had taken it upon himself to clear the entirety of Desmond's home of every photo that contained the late Olivia and Violet Sycamore. He only kept one; the rest he had hidden carefully away. The one he kept out, he kept folded in his jacket pocket.
He was normally able to calm Des down after every episode that left him nearly inconsolable, his fatherly insticts over the man kicking in when he found Desmond in the doorway to his room, his hair over his shoulders and his eyes clouded in complete grief. He clutched at his arms so hard Raymond could see the nails leaving stark trails in the man's skin, his teeth clenched so tightly together the old butler could hear the teeth grinding over one another.
"Where is she?" Desmond asked. "Where is my wife? Where is my daughter? Raymond, where are they?"
It had really only been a few weeks since they were killed. Desmond still thought that they were still there, Raymond had witnessed on more than one occurance the red-eyed man waking and turning to face the spot on his bed where his wife normally slept. How his face would contort when he realized she wasn't there.
Raymond would take the shaking man into his arms, shushing as he began to rock him back and forth slowly. This would normally stop the shaking long enough for the butler to tell him what had happened.
"It will be alright, Desmond. They are in a better place now, you must trust me."
"..." Desmond would go completely still, his eyes shooting wide open. Then his face would change into one of such grief that Raymond still had to look away when Desmond realized what was going on. The red-eyed man would grip his butler's -- his father's -- shoulders as he broke down, giving a low, keening sob. Raymond wrapped his arms around the younger man, letting Desmond pull closer and cry into his shoulder, the warm tears soaking his nightshirt.
"I'm sorry, Desmond. But I will be here for you. I will be your... constant companion." He wanted to say father. He really did. But even mentioning the word would set Desmond off again. "Come on, Des. Let's take you back to your room. I will stay there until you fall asleep." Desmond didn't really respond, just giving a shaky sigh as his crying began to subside. Raymond led the man back to his bedroom, silently tucking him in and brushing hair, along with tears, out of his face.
"It will be alright. I promise." Desmond would already be asleep again, the crying tiring him out like nothing else would've. Raymond would still stay with him for a while longer, pulling out the picture he kept in his jacket (he moved it to his nightshirt at night), staring at it for what seemed to be an eternity. The way Desmond looked at Olivia, the way Violet smiled into the camera, gaps in between her teeth….
Why was Targent this cruel? Raymond sighed, tucking the photo back into his nightshirt and looking back at Desmond for a while longer. Then he stood, and went back to bed.
~~~~~
