He was numb and chilled, his whole body stiff and unmoving as he stared on at the substance like rosy ink that flowed and seeped into his clothes, torn and unprotecting like the thinnest of paper. The knife in his hand burned like the coldest of ice, numb and painful as it burned its way into his very core. And yet he did not move, knife clutched in hand and body stilled as if he was truly just a child's play-thing. Stiff and dead as fate would have liked. It was unnatural the way his body could freeze, as if it was vacant of a beating heart and breathing lungs and so much more he dared not dwell on. Shivering and shaking and labored breathing and all natural signs of doing just a deed gone with the wind, cold and biting at flesh exposed to it through tears and absent-minded holes in aged clothing so unnerving in their presence. He was still and he was silent.
It was the first shiver that broke this stillness, as fragile as ice and as volatile as water. A shiver so unnatural and biting that he flinched, senses once before clouded with the fog of the situation clearing and sharpening like an image. An image of realization and an image of a horrible deed done in a way he could not place, could not remember.
And then he laughed, a small high-pitched giggle both equally as bitter and unnerving in itself as it shattered that frozen stillness like shards of ice disappearing in the biting and bitter wind, breaking and sharpening everything inside of him like the bloody knife he wielded with tired and emotionless eyes like glaciers.
That small giggle broke into a laugh, maniacal and unearthly like the body he held together with glue and needles. He cackled into the sky, dark and endless like the deepest sea frozen with something he did not understand and something that he never would. He laughed then, madness seeping through the scars and cracks like blood, finding its way into his heart and fractured being as he faced the space above with such hate and malice as if it was truly a sentient being that despised him and everything he stood for.
That grin stayed ever present as those maniacal, crazed wails melted into deep, guttural sobs, the stuttering in his aching chest, undeniable and betraying. He sobbed and he screamed hoarse words that melded together into curses and gruesome threats as hollow and empty as the sky he screamed into.
Deep and aching he wailed into the emptiness above, avoiding anything and everything. He would not accept this reality, cold and unnerving as it seeped into his bones like ice destroyed and decayed into something unlike itself. It hurt, it fucking hurt like nothing had before when he forced himself to look upon that body, eyes that once melted the ice that was him now dull and still like stone. They were emotionless, and void of everything he had ever loved about them.
He screamed, screamed the man's name through shivers like earthquakes that made his head spin. He screamed until he could no more, body slumping onto his knees and a ground that felt as if it were nothing more than bodiless fog.
His body ached, the only grounded he was granted as his chest felt as if it would combust and his throat felt as if it were on fire. Exposed tears like targets to the biting wind and chill that nipped painfully at him like shards of ice. With one last scream, hoarse and painful of the man's name he was gone, swept away in the wind like snow.
"Andy,"
Andy's mind was muddled and muffled when he awoke, running a hand through messy hair when he turned onto his back with eyes hardly open as he tried to process why he was awake at such a late hour. The muffled sobs and whimpers took a minute to be processed before he woke completely, mind slow and hesitant as it took in their source.
He took in the pale blueness of morning seeping through the room that was beginning to reveal the scene before him. Small body curled up next to him turned away and shuddering with sobs he tried his best to keep quiet in the silence of the room. Afraid of hurting and hesitant in his movements, he pushed back empathetic tears that pricked the corners of tired eyes and a lump that had formed in the back of his throat. He swore he would not cry, he refused to do that to him.
He felt so cold, Andy noted, turning onto his side despite himself and tracing shapes onto the other's back, a touch he did not shy away from. "Charles," With closed eyes and an apprehensive breath of the doll's name, the man wrapped warm arms around the other, soft and gentle as he pulled him closer. He didn't react much, but his cries vibrated against Andy's chest, soft and deep and hurting against something Andy didn't dare to ask about. So he held him, face buried in disheveled hair unnaturally red and eternally soft as he closed his eyes with deep breathes and muttered words of assurance and comfort until the cries died down into stuttered breaths laced with curses and soft coughs and hiccups.
The doll turned shifted and turned around, giving Andy a glimpse of rosy cheeks dusted with freckles and the aftermath of crying, ice melted and eyes tired and fearful like Andy had never seen before staring into his own.
Andy ran his fingers through unruly hair, watching the other relax and breathe a shaky sigh that he could not quite place on an emotional scale, but one that relieved him nonetheless.
"I-I fucking killed you, Andy." The voice, gravelly and broken stated with such a disbelieve in those wide eyes that it was hard to believe that the doll had ever done such things. Fear and panic edged his voice, as if he truly feared his virtual deeds would come true.
Andy shushed him then, pulling him closer and letting the doll break and crumble beneath him, rambling and muttering as Andy listened and comforted as best as he could. In these moments, he was helpless. Only able to watch the other fall deep into something he could not understand.
"You didn't, and you won't." He whispered to the trembling body in his arms, boiling and freezing all at once, embrace so firm that they nearly melded together.
The words, heart-breaking in tone came then. Rumbling gently against his chest and sending chills down his spine. "How do you know?"
He laughed. A gentle thing that could bring anything back to their senses. "Because, I know you."
They both knew he was coming apart, unwinding slowly but surely like frayed thread as moments like these became more and more frequent and terrifying. Moments when he was able to hold onto the doll and comfort him without issue where beginning to become rare, as he would awake screaming and crying, terrified of dreams he would begin to not tell. Dreams he would hide despite reassurance and dreams that would haunt him.
They both knew he was coming apart, but as Andy held him there, the other slowly beginning to fall back asleep without another word, breaths soft and steadied, he knew he was ready for whatever happened. Ready for the possibility of the day he would snap, ready for the moment that cold metal would meet warm flesh and fate along with pure trust and raw emotion would decide his destiny.
With a small sigh and a sad, tired smile he looked at the doll he held tightly like his life depended on it. If loving him meant something like that...
Well hell, it was worth it.