I've long given up writing. It's just that it's about 4:30 in the morning, I'm not going to bed, and I'm fresh out of things to do. I thought I'd try writing something so I won't die of boredom. This is something different from what I used to write. Something angsty for once. Oh, and please tell me if my rating isn't right.
Blood Falls From the Sky
A sober 19-year old Lance Alvers sat in his dusty bed, staring through the darkness at the wall. His eyes had long adjusted to the darkness. After all, he'd be staring at said wall for about half an hour now. For now he chose to ignore the soundly-sleeping figure next to him.
Lance's head ached with possibly the worst hangover he'd ever have, but it was something he was brushing aside for the moment. It didn't matter right now. Not when he had bigger things on his mind. Things like the fact that he'd just slept with his teammate and best friend, Pietro Maximoff.
He knew that after this, nothing would be the same. Lance didn't fucking want this. He didn't want his virginity to be taken by some guy. Some guy that was outrageously rude and got on his nerves whenever he felt fit. Some guy that wasn't his type, and now would be scarred into the rest of his life like a third-degree burn.
He hated himself for not looking before he'd leapt and drinking his little ass off the night before with the rest of the Brotherhood. He hated himself for taking advantage of the situation when he didn't even have any idea what he was doing, or how it was going to affect his life and Pietro's.
Lance felt some kind of horrid, awkward feeling. His best friend wasn't going to ever be his best friend again. Nothing would be the same. Nothing.
"Lance".
Lance was caught off-guard by the voice of the slightly younger teen next to him, who he thought had been asleep. He turned to look at Pietro with an expression that he couldn't control. A mix of "Good morning" and "Fuck my life".
"How long've you been awake?" Lance asked casually, noticing Pietro's calmed expression was probably not the way he first looked when he'd awoken.
Pietro chose not to answer and gazed at Lance with half-lidded eyes, as if he was half-asleep, but wasn't. Lance figured he didn't hear him, and was about to repeat his question, but Pietro spoke before he could open his mouth.
"I love you, Lance"
Some kind of wave of emotions completely washed over Lance at that exact moment. A mix of fear, awkwardness, and some kind of bittersweet bliss. He didn't know how he should've reacted. Anything he could've said or done at that moment would've caused his whole life to come crashing down. He couldn't react.
In his bout of confusion and fear, he just wanted all these burdens on his shoulders to go away. He wanted everything back to normal. He wanted to smile. He wanted to...to…
Laugh.
And so that's what he did. He laughed. A forced, empty laugh that echoed in the dusty old room. He laughed with tears stinging his eyes, and refused to look back at Pietro. He knew that once he looked at him, everything would just get so much harder that it already was.
So he refused to look at him, and just laughed his fears away. Temporarily.
"Sure, man", Lance mumbled after he couldn't force his laugh any longer. He was going to pretend this all never happened. That it was a nightmare waiting to be forgotten.
He stared down at the blanket, smiling.
After a few minutes of forcing his pained smile in the darkness, he heard Pietro slowly pull the covers from his naked body, descend from the bed, and get dressed. After closing the door shut very quietly, much quieter than he would have usually done it, Lance was left alone in his room.
After a minute, Lance could even hear Pietro enter his own room next to his. He heard him as he opened his closet and took something out. Probably clothes.
Lance sighed. Pietro was going back to the everyday routine. Everything was going to go back to normal. The awkwardness would go away. That 'I love you' he'd said was probably just a sick joke. Yeah. He'd go out with Kitty again like he always did. Everything was gonna be alright.
Or so he thought.
After a few minutes of just lying awake in his bed, a familiar smell wafted through the air to Lance's nostrils. He had an acute sense of smell, but couldn't put his finger on what the smell was. The odd smell of copper and metal with a hint of rust. Was Fred trying to cook something on their broken stove again…?
As Lance decided to brush it off, he tried to read one of the books on his bedside table. But only after a few pages of reading, he couldn't ignore the smell anymore.
He decided to get dressed and investigate. When he opened his door, the smell got significantly stronger. He glanced around the hallways. Everyone's bedroom door was closed. That meant nobody was awake. Or…
Someone was awake, in their room.
And that was when it hit him. The smell.
The smell of blood.
Immediately Lance knew.
In an instant, Lance burst into Pietro's room and the smell washed over him like some kind of twisted incense.
Lance's horrified expression couldn't be put into words as his eyes wandered over to Pietro lying in his bed, wrists slit and bleeding profusely, eyes closed, like he was asleep. The bloody knife used was lying next to his limp body. His complexion was paler than normal, which was already very pale.
Lance rushed to Pietro's side, "Pietro! Pietro, you retard! Wake up!", he shook his limp body violently by the shoulders. He proceeded, in contrast, to bring Pietro's body into some sort of cradling position in his arms.
Lance stared at Pietro's slit wrists disgustedly, "Holy shit, you fucking retard…" he mumbled. "That's not very nice…" Pietro whispered almost inaudibly, body still limp. Lance's eyes widened at the fact that Pietro was still alive. Barely.
"What the fuck, Pietro, wh-what the fuck did you do?" Lance asked, even if he already knew the answer.
Pietro blinked weakly, "…The hell…does it look like…?", he mumbled, breathing softly in between words.
"Holy shit, Pietro, I-…you didn't do this because of what I said…?"
Another glance at the jagged wounds on Pietro's dripping wrists prompted Lance to change the subject, "I'm taking you to the hospital, Pietro".
Pietro's eyelids lowered a bit, "Don't. It's too late", he struggled to breathe for a second, "…Too late".
Lance's breath became shaky, like he was the one losing blood fast. He cursed mentally realizing that the Brotherhood didn't have a first-aid kit lying around the mansion. Getting an idea, Lance gently set Pietro back on his bloodstained bed, and then quickly proceeded to remove his shirt.
As he tied his thin T-shirt tightly onto one of Pietro's arms, Pietro stared at him weakly, "What're you doing…?" he mumbled. Without taking his eyes off his work, he replied, "Cutting off the circulation to your arm so blood won't be able to get to the cuts".
Pietro remained silent as Lance grabbed a random shirt from Pietro's closet to tie around his other arm. Lance took a glance at Pietro's pale face, noticing his eyes slowly closing, "Hey! Hey, Pietro! Stay with me, okay?". Lance patted his cheek and shook him slightly.
Pietro could only mumble, "…Sorry, Lance…I…love you…".
Lance bit his lip as tears pooled at his eyes, overflowed, rolled down his cheeks, and dripped onto Pietro's clothes over the duration of three painful seconds. "Pietro, I…you know I've always loved you. You know I have. I've just been such a bastard, 'cause…'cause…", Lance began to choke on his tears.
Pietro smiled a weak smile and slowly brought his hand up to Lance's cheek. "I know", he whispered, "C'mon…I won't show you any tears…so you'd better…not show me any either…".
Lance looked at Pietro's calm face desperately, fresh tears still rolling down his cheeks. It was retarded how Pietro was comforting Lance when it should've been the other way around.
Lance wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. "Don't be afraid. Everything's gonna be okay, Pietro. Just close your eyes…" he whispered, and Pietro slowly shut his eyes obediently. "Think of happy things, okay? You're just going to sleep. You're just gonna have a little nap. That's all…" Lance whispered, blinking back tears.
A calmed smile was on Pietro's face when he whispered very quietly, "You'll be there…when I wake up…right…Lance?".
Lance swallowed hard, "I'll be right here".
"Goodnight…Lance."
Lance held his breath as he heard Pietro's already soft breathing come to a complete halt. He hugged Pietro's body against his, crying into his shoulder.
"I'll be right here".