A/N: In response to Miles Long's Full Album Fic challenge. The album I chose is "There is a Hell, Believe Me I've Seen It. There is a Heaven, Let's Keep it a Secret" by Bring Me the Horizon :)
Please note that the chapter titles are not the titles of the songs used. Instead I will supply a sample of the significant lyrics, from the song in question, at the beginning of each chapter.
Someone call an exorcist, and help me kill this curse
I can't stop the bleeding, and it's only getting worse
xXx
Tastes so bitter, feels so sweet
I've come back to old remedies
- Anthem
His soul was ash; as fractured—as shattered—as that of the man he once purported to follow, to enslave himself to. But that man has fallen. And so has this one. An empty carcass, a bloodied cadaver, condemned somehow to continue walking this deadened world; this wasteland populated by stone statues and governed by a vicious sun that casts its rusted light over endless landscape.
His eyes burned with sleepless nights. For his demons haunted his every moment and their wicked whispers echoed loudly in darkened rooms, and so he never slept. An unopened bottle of Fire Whisky rested on the table at his side—he dared not open it, but he sometimes liked to contemplate the escape he would never deserve. The broken glass in the fire grate reminded him why he couldn't, wouldn't, drink again. She hadn't deserved it either, and not even in his most despondent state could he risk doing that to her again. The tears on her cheeks were burned into his mind, and he could still feel the sting of her face on his hand.
He threw himself out of his chair and strode aimlessly through the Manor. He was sick of dwelling; sick of regretting; sick of mourning for his soul. But the world was frozen around him - stuck in this eternal stasis and he couldn't move. He caught himself watching for her out a window. Disgust, but then quickly he rationalised it away. He just needed her. It wasn't that he wanted her, and never that he missed her; he was just a junkie craving his fix.
At any rate, she'd be here soon, and he grew more and more restless as the sun fell farther and farther beneath the horizon. As the clock began to count down the minutes until her time of arrival, and then to slowly, painfully tick away the minutes of her lateness, his agitation grew unbearable. He finally heard her let herself into the entry hall—he'd long rid himself of the Manor's elves, unable to tolerate their intrusion on his solitude—and instantly relaxed, heading down to meet her.
"Hi, Draco," she said with a soft smile.
His teeth instantly clenched, at the display of affection, but he swallowed the irritation.
"Astoria," he acknowledged. He couldn't help but admire the way the smile remained steadfastly on her pretty lips. She had it all down to an art, the pretending; an absolute master. Sometimes even he couldn't tell what she was really thinking or feeling.
He led her out to the balcony, she preferred to eat outside—some nonsense about the ambience and the energy. Their ritual always began this way. Wine and dine, because he knew she needed it, just like he needed what would come later.