Reversibility
Rated PG-13 for slash references, and bad language. Lucatono, Powderslash, Lucatwin. Yeah, a lot of love triangles in this. My first attempt at true Lucatono. Inspired by the Baudelaire poem of the same title, dedicated to Madam Luna, reigning slash goddess of 667 Dark Avenue. DH does not own this story, and I'm sure he thanks God hourly for that.
Angel of kindness, have you tasted hate?
With hands clenched in the dark and tears of gall
when vengeance beats her hellish battle call
and makes herself the captain of our fate
Angel of kindness, have you tasted hate?
- C. Baudelaire, "Reversibility"
Things can't be the way they were again. I used to sneak into his room at night. It wasn't like that, not dirty. It was so cold, some nights it felt like the cold and the dark and the silence would swallow me up. Like I might fall forever in the night. He did all the talking. He didn't try to force me to speak. We would talk about anything, until the sun turned the sky that predawn blue and we would fall asleep squeezing each other's hands. He used to say- Once I had a darling girl a sweetheart darling girl she closed her eyes her big black eyes . . . I would laugh at that. More like sister and brother than anything. We were just friends. He was just . . . my friend. And then Flacutono came and destroyed it.
I was the only one who could call him Luca. Flacutono calls him that now. Or he did. I heard him whisper it, some nights I laid awake late and I heard him scream it. Oh God, I love you. Luca, I love you.
I fucking hated that sound. I hated everything about him, his skinny, bony hands, his bald head, the way the two of them pretended to be friends, stealing glances and secret smiles when they thought no one was looking. I hope they have all the grief they can stand and more, that's what I close my eyes and pray for every night. God answers some prayers.
I stood at the edge of the pit when everyone else was long gone. Bones and tendons ripping apart. Flesh pulling from muscle. It's a strange sound. Like velcro pulling apart. Screams from lungs filling with blood, sounds like laughing underwater. And then it slows, and stops. And then silence. Now he's gone.
And Lucafont just sleeps. I went to him once. He moaned and shoved me away. And he won't speak to me. Not now. He only says things can't be that way, not ever again. There's no room in his bed. Even from hell Flacutono won't make space for anyone else.
I didn't want it anyway. I didn't want to be loved without having something demanded in return, I wanted to be left alone, left to rot with my sister, who steals the sunlight from me and worms her way into my head, who demands such unspeakable things from me in return for her love. But I allowed it. I nursed it, and now we are both too deep, too entwined to ever escape.
Lucafont is the one who gave me back to her. I despise him for it. I can hear him whisper that name, over and over in the dark. And sometimes, late at night I lie awake and I can hear him scream. I fucking love that sound.
Rated PG-13 for slash references, and bad language. Lucatono, Powderslash, Lucatwin. Yeah, a lot of love triangles in this. My first attempt at true Lucatono. Inspired by the Baudelaire poem of the same title, dedicated to Madam Luna, reigning slash goddess of 667 Dark Avenue. DH does not own this story, and I'm sure he thanks God hourly for that.
Angel of kindness, have you tasted hate?
With hands clenched in the dark and tears of gall
when vengeance beats her hellish battle call
and makes herself the captain of our fate
Angel of kindness, have you tasted hate?
- C. Baudelaire, "Reversibility"
Things can't be the way they were again. I used to sneak into his room at night. It wasn't like that, not dirty. It was so cold, some nights it felt like the cold and the dark and the silence would swallow me up. Like I might fall forever in the night. He did all the talking. He didn't try to force me to speak. We would talk about anything, until the sun turned the sky that predawn blue and we would fall asleep squeezing each other's hands. He used to say- Once I had a darling girl a sweetheart darling girl she closed her eyes her big black eyes . . . I would laugh at that. More like sister and brother than anything. We were just friends. He was just . . . my friend. And then Flacutono came and destroyed it.
I was the only one who could call him Luca. Flacutono calls him that now. Or he did. I heard him whisper it, some nights I laid awake late and I heard him scream it. Oh God, I love you. Luca, I love you.
I fucking hated that sound. I hated everything about him, his skinny, bony hands, his bald head, the way the two of them pretended to be friends, stealing glances and secret smiles when they thought no one was looking. I hope they have all the grief they can stand and more, that's what I close my eyes and pray for every night. God answers some prayers.
I stood at the edge of the pit when everyone else was long gone. Bones and tendons ripping apart. Flesh pulling from muscle. It's a strange sound. Like velcro pulling apart. Screams from lungs filling with blood, sounds like laughing underwater. And then it slows, and stops. And then silence. Now he's gone.
And Lucafont just sleeps. I went to him once. He moaned and shoved me away. And he won't speak to me. Not now. He only says things can't be that way, not ever again. There's no room in his bed. Even from hell Flacutono won't make space for anyone else.
I didn't want it anyway. I didn't want to be loved without having something demanded in return, I wanted to be left alone, left to rot with my sister, who steals the sunlight from me and worms her way into my head, who demands such unspeakable things from me in return for her love. But I allowed it. I nursed it, and now we are both too deep, too entwined to ever escape.
Lucafont is the one who gave me back to her. I despise him for it. I can hear him whisper that name, over and over in the dark. And sometimes, late at night I lie awake and I can hear him scream. I fucking love that sound.