A/N: I'm posting this because my beloved 46captain46 demanded me too. She's always beautiful and always supporting me, so please go check out her writing.
Disclaimer: Blah blah blah not mine.
Without further ado here is gay pain.
His heart cracks, fractures off into different directions, like ice in the Arctic. Cold and alone and broken, never to be put back together again. He remembers childhood stories of Humpty Dumpty, thinks back to when he was naïve in thinking nothing could be so broken. He was wrong, he was so very, very wrong.
If this is what dying feels like then he wishes it would hurry up and do the job. Wishes all of the innocents would rise up only to swallow him whole, dragging him to hell where he belongs. For any hell some demon could imagine would surely be better than this. Than being left alone with his thoughts, with his guilt. So, so many innocents.
He moves back and forth, the motion as simple as an old rocking horse and yet it's the only thing keeping him from reaching out and ending it, ending all the suffering, the pain, the pound, pound, pounding of voices screaming in his skull that he's a monster, and monsters don't deserve to live.
Monsters don't deserve to live…
There's a bright, bright light, shining brighter than the sun of this earth. It's saying Hold On. Fight. Don't give up. I'm here. Buck. I'm here. Monsters don't deserve to live. He tries to tell the light this, but the light fights back. It fights fights fights, until it's warming the cold spaces of his heart, melting the fractures of his broken arctic pieces and he's crying and murmuring save me save me. And the light is trying, soothing, cooing, and he feels it. A warm palm and the words echoing it's okay, it's okay, it's okay. Monsters don't deserve to live, but you're not a monster.
You're not a monster…