Sever From

I own this but not the characters.
Slight "Wasteland" allusions. Minor.

Dislclaimed.

Commence.

It has come down to this.
Naked in tangles of the sheets and crushed underneath his hips like angled splinter walls of bone that stick up around the waistband of his jeans. Kazuma is straddling his waist - trigger arm coiled and tense at the shoulders - and his jaw is set with gritted sharp teeth, incisors so pointed that they make the plush of lip bleed when they burrow in the flesh.

His rough, sand-and-asphalt fingers point around the black curve of a handgun aimed between his eyes.
Red blares blazes stares glares are pinned to his face around the metal and the barrel that he is now looking down as though transfixed. See around the weapon to his face. See around him.

Kazuma is the one who is shaking even though he's not about to die.
But maybe he is.
Maybe he really just can't handle it anymore that they make love.

So Ryuhou is tense and waiting. His nerves are like steel wires running through him, hard, shuddering, thick pumping veins, and his throat is a mound of flesh that beats just like a heart. Cords and lumps of it, transfigured.
Thick, thick.
His skull might as well be stapled to the wall behind them.

But he is waiting.

And everything that was ever between them and every word he ever said was leading up to this. And maybe this is how it has to be.

He wants to look away he can't because he feels himself constricting contracting and what is in Kazuma's eyes is hurting him more than anything now Oh god, you know I've loved you and he wonders if the only way that Kazuma can be free
Is if he is silent.

What is in Kazuma's eyes is love and fear, and hesitation, and the heavy breaths that pour in perfectly behind his eyes. And he is thinking about love and hate and the difference between the ones you love and the ones who are your enemies. And he is thinking that maybe he can't do this and maybe everything will change between them if he can't. And he is thinking too, that if Ryuhou is silent, he will sprout his metallic wings again, and he will be able to take flight.
Fear and then finality that sucks the fear away.

His thumb and trigger finger tremble, and Ryuhou knows that if this is what he has to do to prove to Kazuma how much he loves him
Then he is ready.

He can feel his own sweat and bile rising even as the silence drags and Kazuma squeezes closed his eyes and holds the gun away from him.

Red and plasma is filling up his mind and before he can feel everything inside of him snapping breaking he knows that everything is snapping breaking twisting. Their legs are wrapped up together and he sucks his ribs and stomach in and lets the salty tangles of his hair stick to his eyelids.

The love that sucks away is so deep and so black that it hurts to touch, even with shaking fingers. But it is all that he has to take with him.
And so, commence.

There is a muted, severed bang and the connection finally is severed.
He has severed himself from him.

He flings the gun away from him and buries his head in his arms; wild bourbon-colored hair like flame-licks, sweat streaks pouring down his face.

With a crushing slowness, everything caves in, collapses, and he can hear the squelching grotesque dripping gushing of where softness loveless used to be. Red-eyed angel.

The wings stir in his back and finally he can be free.

Because the fear has sucked the fear away and he has cut the love from him.
And he will only ever know how much he really was loved if that love can be silent,
And, standing alone, he will take back his voice

And he will speak.

/fini