No. You didn't – you didn't kill him…"

"That's right. You did. All I did was put him out of his misery."

The words echoed in Luke's head cruelly, mercilessly, relentlessly.

During a heated argument, Noah had once commented that Luke didn't know what hell was. Now Luke certainly knew.
He lay in his bed, crying for hours, until it felt like he had no more tears to shed. This reality was incomprehensible, yet it was staring him in the face, impossible to deny… Noah was gone, had been torn away from him forever. And on top of everything, Luke realized deep down that Col. Mayer had a point. Noah was dead because of him. If Noah hadn't met Luke, he would still be closeted, miserable and lonely, perhaps… but alive.

He hadn't even interrupted his parents at lunch to tell them the news. They came home to find Luke a sobbing mess. Struggling to even put the words together as he cried, he finally told them. For all the consolation Luke found in their long embraces and comforting words, he might as well have said nothing.

Luke's mom and dad took it upon themselves to tell the rest of his family and friends about Noah. It wasn't long before a parade of visitors swarmed into the Snyder house – such as both of Luke's grandmothers, his aunts Meg and Lucy, Damian even – but he shut himself up in his room and instructed his parents to say that he didn't want to see anyone. That was the truth. He didn't need their half-assed attempts to make him feel better. He had lost the love of his life… there was nothing they could say, nothing they could do. Nothing.

He barely registered it when there was a knock on the door. Luke didn't bother answering, not even having the strength to point out that he wanted to be left alone. He heard the door open, though he did not turn his head in its direction.

"Sweetie?" he heard Lily say tentatively.

Luke groaned and turned on his side to face her. "What, Mom?" he said, his tone almost aggressive. He didn't mean to be rude like this, but he couldn't help it. Manners were about the last thing he gave a shit about right now.

"I just thought you could use something to eat," she said gently, indicating a tray she had laid on the dresser. There was a plate with a piece of toast on it and a glass of water.

"I'm not hungry, thanks," he said in a hollow voice.

She pursed her lips, looking like she didn't know what to say. "Are you sure? You haven't eaten anything since this morn – "

Before he knew what he was doing, Luke pushed himself into a sitting position and yelled, "I said I'm not hungry, alright?!"

This was followed by a rather stunned silence. Lily looked unnerved by her son's outburst. Luke finally broke down and began sobbing again. "I'm sorry – I-I-I'm sorry…"

Lily quickly sat on the bed next to him and gathered him in her arms, her eyes beginning to water as well. "Sweetheart, it's okay…"

"It's not…" Luke wept into her shoulder, shaking all over. "It's not… how am I gonna live without him, Mom? Why didn't the Colonel just kill me instead? I'm the one he hated so much…"

"I don't want to hear you talk like that, ever," Lily said firmly, though she was clearly struggling to hold it together as well.

Luke continued crying until it seemed, once again, that his eyes were unable to produce any more tears. He wondered how long it would last this time. His mother eventually pulled away from him and quietly said, "Anything you need, your father and I are here for you. Everyone is. Please remember that."

"Okay," Luke sniffed, "But I don't really think there's anything you guys can do for me, Mom."

She seemed to be putting extra effort into not crying herself, and stroked his hair briefly, before getting to her feet and leaving the room.

Luke lay back down on his side, pondering what he'd told his mother about how he'd rather have had the Colonel kill him. Selfish, sure, but true. Every second of living since he'd learned Noah was dead felt like torture… he was trapped in a nightmare, in a world of agony. He didn't know what death felt like, but he was willing to bet it was better than what he was currently going through.

He closed his eyes, casting his mind back to Noah lying with him in this bed just last night, making love to him. He realized he remembered what that feeling was like – he was never going to forget it – but with that, came the crushing knowledge that he was never going to experience it again. His sweet, kind, loving Noah was gone.

Meanwhile, Col. Winston Mayer was out there, not only alive but free… probably laughing over how he'd cold-bloodedly murdered his faggot of a son –

In a flash, Luke jumped out of his bed, grabbed his bedside lamp and began bashing it against the wall as hard as he could. He did it over and over and over again, shattering as much as he could of the lamp until it fell out of his grasp onto the floor. He stood there, hardly breathing… the grief he'd been feeling just moments ago was suddenly gone, had vanished to make room for a rush of fury like which he'd never felt before. It coursed through his veins, filling every fiber of his body, his being. It felt poisonous.

Yet at the same time, it gave him a newfound strength and clarity of mind. Luke sat back down, suddenly very focused. It would be stupid to keep lying here and cry over Noah's death, when he could actually do something useful, when there was still unfinished business to deal with. Winston Mayer was still alive… still breathing air, thinking he could take away the love of Luke's life, and helpless little boy Luke would just take it lying down.

Luke's features hardened. Think again.

Tbc…