So I basically got around to writing this when I read another one of ember53608 stories ('make it rain') and I felt like writing. I'll be posting some more stuff in the next few days, I'm just tightening them up a bit and I should probably start posting that big backlog of unedited stories in my Google Drive account. Thanks for reading, and I hope you like this.
Disclaimer: I do not own Sisters Grimm.
There's this tear clinging stubbornly onto the eyelashes of Puck's left eye, and every time he moves a finger to dislodge it another fills it place, and it's not until he's swept away the eighth one does he realise he's crying. He's crying, and gasping, because all he can see is this cold block of stone, Here lies Mustardseed, with his heart thumping in his chest like a gun. Thump, and a fresh wave of bullets splatter inside him.
It hurts, it hurts him so much, and he hates the fact that it hurts because he's Puck, goddamit! and he shouldn't be feeling things like hurt; that's for girls and babies. But even he can't ignore the gut-wrenching pull in his stomach, digesting him from the inside out, this burning freezing sensation.
This horrible sense of energy that floods him, like all the cells in his body are being broken down as fuel, and his skin trembles as he tries to keep in control.
He hears a crunch behind him. He turns to find a blonde girl looking at him, with bright blue eyes and a chocolate bar in her hand. She offers it to him.
"Granny said you liked chocolate," she says, as a way of explanation, "so I bought you some."
One simple act of kindness, that's all it takes, and suddenly Puck can't hold it in anymore, and he whirls around and just lashes out at the tombstone. The beast inside him breaks free, as he rains abuse and kicks and tears on the rock. A savage, guttural roar erupts from his lips, a whimpering sob follows soon after, and fury and hate and complete heartbreak surges through him.
"You pile of shit!" he screams at the rock, "You fucking died on me! I told you to stay awake and you fucking didn't and now you're dead!"
More abuse, more kicks, more tears. There is a distant clap of disapproving thunder overhead, but Puck remains oblivious as he snarls and shouts and cries.
Cries in both senses.
By the end of it he's breathing heavily, his bruised toe throbbing painfully, and there's a nasty scrape on his knuckles, showering blood with every flick of his hand. He turns back to Sabrina and snatches the bar from her still-outstretched hand.
"Thank you," he says curtly. He tries to open it, but his shaking fingers refuse to tear off the wrapper, and now he's frustrated as well and his eyes flash again with angry tears.
"Here," she says, and gently pulls it from his fingers.
She unwraps it with a quiet crinkle of plastic, and breaks a piece off. His lip quivers.
"Eat it." She puts it on his palm.
He doesn't move.
"Puck?"
The piece of chocolate drops from between his fingers and without warning he slides to the ground, crying. There is no fury in him left anymore. He's used up all his energy, he's just sitting there with his head in his hands and there's tears leaking out.
"Puck..." she whispers, because in her eyes he looks pathetic, like a little child who's lost everything, and the only noises he makes are wails and sobs.
She goes down on her knees, next to the grieving fairy boy, and she just pulls him into her, feeling her own small tears prick. He feels so small in her arms, even though he's so much bigger, his bones feel featherweight and brittle, his muscled body shaking. Noisy hiccups escape him, and he clutches desperately at her shirt front, tears streaming down his face.
"He's dead... He's dead..." he says in between gasps.
"I know." She pats his back awkwardly.
"He- He didn't listen to me. He didn't bloody stay awake."
"I know."
As Sabrina holds onto Puck, the fairy boy who's dissolving into her arms, she feels hot tears run down her own face, and inside her heart bruises.
With wet fingers that so are frail right now he tightens his grip around her, because he just needs someone to hold him, because it's been so long since he last cried and goddamit now he remembers why he swore it off. A long chilling wind sweeps across him, buries itself in his organs, continuous and unrelenting.
But when he looks up, the grass remains still, the blonde hair draped over his shoulder is unmoving. Where is the wind?
All thoughts are driven out of his head though, as the cold intensifies, as his mind and body and soul all shiver as one, shiver and lie still and shiver again.
It hurts.
Only one fairy is interred in the ground, but he dragged a piece of his brother down with him.
So thanks for reading. It's quite short, I know, but I couldn't think of much else to put in this story. Thank you to Curlscat, for helping me edit this (and many of my other stories) and making lots of helpful suggestions, etc. etc. Thanks for reading.