The road to Vincent's hell was paved with a single good intention: I only wanted to make Gil happy.
Like a penitent he clasps his hands around Gil's, presses his forehead to his knuckles, his eyes screwed shut as he pleaded for his brother to understand.
"I only wanted to make you happy."
He tells him about their Master- about Jack, about Lacie, about the girl who looked like Lacie, about the Baskervilles, about the Queen of Hearts, and it comes out a mess of half-formed syllables and barely articulated words. He forgets what to say next, at times, as if he were recounting a dream that was quickly slipping through his fingers.
The wound in his side is not helping- it takes so much shorter to hold a breath.
"Vince, please, we need to go-"
He shakes his head, tightening his hold on Gil's hands. He needed to explain- needed to make him understand. Selfishly, he wanted Gil to remember him, for the meager moments before everything ended, as someone he could not hate.
Vincent raises his gaze to meet Gil's, speaks the nightmare that has haunted him since childhood, and says,
"I only wanted to make you happy- and you're only happy without me."
Gilbert's eyes widen, and he is on the verge of what looked like a vehement denial, when Vincent smiles- genuine and wide, looking like the brother that Gilbert would never hate.
"Isn't that right, Gil?"
Culled from the November set of the 31days ljcomm. Written because I have always been a sucker for these two, and often wish that Gil would get a clue. Or that Vincent would die.