Author's Notes: This is a follow on piece to accompany Face Down. You need to read that to understand this. I wasn't intending to write a follow on piece, but I was inspired by 'What Hurts the Most' by Rascal Flatts. I apologise for the heavy angst.
What Hurts the Most…
Disclaimer: William T Spears, Ronald Knox and Eric Slingby belong to Yana Toboso. The song lyrics belong to Rascal Flatts. I own nothing.
The silence of the house was almost deafening. William was stood at his liquor cabinet, staring blankly ahead as he poured whiskey into a glass. The amber liquid was overflowing, soaking through his gloves. William slammed the bottle down noisily. He raised the glass to his lips and drained the whiskey in one gulp, spilling a large amount down his white dress shirt. Picking up the bottle, he refilled the glass and gulped down a second measure. He repeated this over and over again until the bottle ran out. William growled and threw it over his shoulder. It crashed loudly on the floor, scattering shards all over the floorboards. William reached into his cabinet and pulled out a half full bottle of clear gin. He began to drink this, gulping down glass after glass. He began to sway unsteadily, a glazed over expression in his eyes. The glass slipped from his fingers and smashed by his feet. William ignored it and starting drinking the gin straight from the bottle. He turned and staggered drunkenly towards his bedroom, walking over the scattered glass shards. This was his life now. Everyday he'd go to work and come home again, nothing more, nothing less. He wasn't living. He was barely existing anymore. Merely going through the motions, like a robot stuck on autopilot. He didn't remember when he had started drinking, but he couldn't stop. Not now. Every evening he would sit in his house in absolute silence, drinking glass after glass until his whole body was numb. But it wasn't enough. It was never enough. Nothing could erase those images, those sounds.
The sound of the gun shot.
The colour of the blood.
The images swirled around in his head, haunting him, plaguing him. He couldn't escape them; he closed his eyes and they were still there, staring at him, laughing at him. William screamed and hurled his gin bottle at the wall. It shattered instantly, gin pooled on the floorboards below. William stood up and slowly walked over to the spreading puddle. He ignored the liquid seeping through his socks and gazed up at the wall before him. It was covered in pictures. Pictures of him. Dozens of them pinned up in neat little rows. William looked at them all, taking in every little detail. Tears began to run down his cheeks. More and more flowed, dripping down his chin onto the floor. William snarled suddenly. He lashed out and began tearing the pictures from the wall. He threw them haphazardly around the room. Many shattered against the furniture, others bounced off the wall and smashed on the floor. William didn't stop his destruction until every last picture was destroyed. He stood in the middle of his lounge, panting in tiredness and anger. Tears once more ran freely down his cheeks. He gave an anguished cry and fell back into the piles of broken glass,
"Why? Why were you taken from me? What did I do wrong?" William drew his knees to his chest and sobbed bitterly "Why didn't I tell you how much you meant to me?"
"He knew senpai, I'm sure, no, I know he knew". Ronald walked carefully into William's lounge, picking his way carefully through the glass. Eric followed him quietly, wrinkling his nose at the strong smell of alcohol. Ronald cleared a small patch of floor and knelt beside William, pulling him into a hug. William just stared blankly, not even flinching as Ronald touched him. Eric sighed heavily and began cleaning up the glass as usual. Ronald gently helped William to his feet,
"Come on senpai, it's time for bed"
William allowed Ronald to lead him to his bedroom. He sat quietly on his bed, obediently lifting his arms and legs as Ronald pulled off his stained clothing and dressed him in his pyjamas. Ronald sighed as he placed the dirty clothing in the laundry hamper. He gently pushed William's shoulder until he was lying down on the bed. He grabbed the bed covers and blankets and tucked them around the older reaper,
"Good night senpai, me and Eric senpai will be here in the morning as usual, okay?"
William made no sound of acknowledgement. He didn't even move. The only indication he was still there was the gentle rise and fall of his chest. Ronald left the room quietly, switching off the light and locking the door. The room was now pitch black, William's eyes glowed an eerie green as he laid in the darkness. Silently he sat up, throwing off the covers. He stood from the bed and shuffled over to his closet, pulling open one of the doors. Inside was his coat. It stood out violently, the only splash of colour in a sea of black and white cloth. William very gently took it off the hanger and put it on. The seams strained tightly against his muscles. William wrapped his arms around himself and hugged the velvet fabric. It still smelled of him. The wonderful sweet scent of the perfume he always wore. William sighed and slowly lowered his hands to his side. He carefully slid a hand into one of the pockets, his fingers brushed against a cool, metal object. He grasped it for a second then let it go, removing his hand from the pocket. William glanced over to the window. He walked over and yanked it open. Carefully, he climbed onto the window sill and looked out at the rainy streets below. He put his hand in his pocket and felt the cool metal again; a few stray tears fell from his eyes. Slowly, William turned around on the sill, sitting so his back was facing the street. Shaking, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a revolver. The same revolver that had been found in his hand. More tears escaped William's eyes. He raised the gun to his temple and pulled back the hammer.
What hurts the most…was not seeing loving you, was what I was trying to do…