[AN: I'm a bit drunk. I don't know. Warnings for gore.]
Vyvyan pulls Rick's intestines out through his throat.
'You look so beautiful,' he says, and would stop, would berate himself for the slip of tongue, but Rick is still. Rick can't feel. Can't think. Can't be. He's gone. He's gone, and Vyv loves him for it. Call him a sick bastard, but this is what he loves the most. Rick's organs in his hands. He doesn't know if he wants to eat them or bury them or do something else. They're his, all his. Every part of Rick, every single organ, left to him by one single signature, coaxed out of Rick by a blowjob in the toilets.
Christ, but Rick had enjoyed it. Gladly traded in his life for that simple pleasure. Vyvyan wishes he'd given him more. He wants to give Rick all the pleasure in the world, in any and every way imaginable. He wants to give everything to Rick, for giving this to him.
Vyvyan reaches into the throat again, gaping wide, leaking sluggish blood from the edges. It was thin at first, but now it falls in thick clumps, blood clotted with flesh cells and other bodily functions. There's blood spread across Rick's face and he looks so goddamn gorgeous. Vyvyan's going to love him forever. For as long as he lives. He will never feel as adored as he does right now.
Rick worships him.
Did worship him.
Before this.
Before Vyvyan was holding Rick's heart in his hand, still, so utterly still. Vyvyan wants to show it to him, say, 'Look, this was yours, and now it is mine,' and have Rick smile that infuriating smile, or have him make some fruitless remark, and then to kiss him senseless. But that can't happen, now. That time of his life is over. He wants to let Rick experience this with him, hold his own heart in his hands. But he can't. He gave that privilege to Vyvyan.
'Fuck,' Vyvyan says, and jams his arm back down inside Rick, prying about his organs, tugging curiously at one of his ribs. He wants it. Wants it all. All of Rick, every single part of him, Vyvyan's to have and hold and do with as he pleases. It's almost like wedding vowels.
He wants to laugh, but Rick's heart is watching him from the table. He doesn't want to upset the heart. He'll do anything for the heart.
He wants it to beat, wills it, but it doesn't. It sits still. Vvyan slides his arm out of Rick, empty-handed, and stares. He wants Rick back. He wants the heart to beat. He wants to wait a bit longer for the goodness of these organs, wants to tell Rick how appreciative he is, to hold him down and fuck him and crush his head against the wall and let him know how happy Vyvyan is.
He doesn't want this.
He doesn't want Rick to be gone.
He wants him back.
'Wake up,' Vyvyan says lowly, and wraps his fingers around the two ends of Rick's throat, pressing them back together. 'Wake up. I command it. You pisshead, wake up.'
Rick's head lolls.
'Wake the fuck up,' Vyvyan says, and feels something he's never felt before.
Fear.
He's scared. He's unsure. He made a rash decision and he regrets it.
'Wake up.' He shoves the intestines back down into Rick, pushes the still heart in after it, the few bones that he tugged out to make room for his hand. He pushes it back and holds Rick's neck closed. He doesn't know what to do. This isn't right. It wasn't time. He wants him back.
'Fuck,' he says, and says it seventeen more times until he finds the stapler, in Rick's room of all places, in a drawer full of fliers and anti-fascist buttons. In a drawer stained with blood from Rick's gums, from his mouth pushed into the hard wood grain with Vyvyan's weight pushing against him from behind.
Vyvyan takes the stapler and presses it to the overlap of Rick's skin, staples until every point is fixed, until Rick's head only lolls so far as his neck lets it, instead of hanging by the narrow piece of flesh still connecting the two entities. He staples and then he holds Rick's face in both of his palms, looks into the blank, staring eyes, and grimaces. Contorts his features into a snarl. Shakes Rick's limp body like a ragdoll, like a wolf worrying it prey.
'Wake up,' Vyvyan commands, and Rick does nothing. 'I've put you back together. Wake up. Wake up. You fucking prick. I don't want to be alone, not just yet. Wake up.'
Rick's head twitches.
He coughs.
Vyvyan holds his head tighter and grins, waits until the pupils of Rick's eyeballs move, just a millimetre, just slightly, just enough for Vyvyan to know.
'I've held it,' Vyvyan says, and the blood on his hands smudges over Rick's face. 'You. All of you.'
Rick's eyes close. He smiles.