Promise?
Desmond had had a rough night.
Who wouldn't have?
The deaths of Olivia and Violet Sycamore, his family, his only family, had both been taken from him not even twenty-four hours ago.
No. That was wrong. Theodore -- Hershel -- was still alive. But Hershel probably didn't even remember him, much less know enough about him to care.
That made the pain all the more unbearable. The police unmercilessly bombarding him with questions had slowly broken him down until he refused to speak. Raymond had managed to get him to his home, somehow.
The car ride was long, the atmosphere in the vehicle heavy and grey. Desmond's shoulders shook with heavy sobs, though his crying was relatively silent. He had always been quiet with his crying. Raymond thought it would've been louder, given the circumstances.
When he left the car, news reporters and cameras flashed with no end. Desmond seemed to shrink in on himself, hugging himself tightly with both arms as his head drooped. Raymond placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, guiding him through the somewhat small crowd -- it would only be bigger tomorrow -- and through the front door.
"Do you want to do anything, Desmond?" He asked cautiously. Desmond placed the heel of a hand over an eye, taking in a shaky breath. He shook his head after a moment, attempting to wipe his tears on his face away with his hand. The tears were replaced at an alarming rate. Raymond frowned.
"Do you think sleep would be good?" Desmond looked at him, eyes red and puffy and bloodshot. He hiccuped, his mouth twisted into such a pained grimace Raymond felt a pang of guilt course through him. He should have been here. He should have protected the people who had considered him family. He moved to Desmond, rubbing his back carefully, as he did when the man was much younger, when he woke up screaming from a night terror.
"Come on, Des. Let's go to bed," he prompted. Desmond stared for a moment, then moved towards the stairs. The foyer wasn't even mentioned, policemen still there, muttering to each other.
Desmond's room had already been stripped clean of any 'evidence' the police deemed useful. When Des approached his bed, he stared at the photograph on the nightstand.
It was a picture of his family, Olivia and Desmond holding hands, smiling at each other, with Violet in between them, smiling at the camera with gaps in her teeth.
That seemed to trigger his sobbing anew, and he plopped on his bed, covering his face with his hands.
Raymond stood there, for once not knowing what to do.
An eternity seemed to pass as Desmond sobbed. Then, slowly, as the cries began to fade into soft whimpers, Raymond slowly felt himself begin to move, to lay Desmond down. As he turned to leave the room, Desmond gripped his arm.
"Don't -- don't leave… please." His voice was shaky, uneven, cracking with emotion and strain. "I can't -- I can't lose you, too." Raymond sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed as he took Desmond's hand in his.
"I will always be with you, Desmond. I won't leave you." Desmond's maroon eyes were wide, glazed with tears.
"...Promise?" He asked, voice trembling. Raymond used a thumb to brush away the tears on his friend's -- basically his son's -- face, giving what he hoped was a reassuring smile.
"I promise."