AN: Do I over use this metaphor? Yes I do. Do I care? Not at the moment no lmao.
Title from the Tal Bachman song She's So High for no real reason to do with Deckerstar or this fic. I just like the song. It was stuck in my head all day. But that particular line works, I think.
When the lights go out, he remembers the Fall.
He recalls the final blow that tipped him over the precipice of the only home he'd ever known, the flames that engulfed him as he plummeted. He'd burned through it all, but it'd been far preferable to the tenebrous void that followed.
For what better punishment for the Morningstar than to deprive him of the very lambency that fueled him?
He remembers the Fall, yes—but it seemed trivial compared to the darkness that would rob him of divine resplendence for eons to come, till his defiance became a noose that tightened with every celestial second more he spent in Hell.
And though the light of Earth held not a candle to that of Heaven, it was a vast improvement to the crepuscule of the Underworld.
But Its infernal tendrils followed him to the land of the living—nipping arrogantly at his heels and waiting for a sign of weakness. Bidding Its time when dusk descended and It coalesced behind the brightest of lanterns up in his penthouse. And still with his stars standing guard above him, he remained fearful. That was, until her—
The detective.
For even with the vulnerability she incited with him, he felt ever untouchable so long as they were together.
Or so he thought.
"I can't," he splutters, clutching at his chest. "I can't—breathe—"
He doesn't realize he's on the floor till she's looming over him, her worried but determined expression going in and out of focus in a reversed facsimile of the time they'd apprehended that miserly, murderous cretin Jimmy Barnes.
And so It has come for him.
He's ready, he tells himself, blackness encroaching upon the fringes of his vision as he lays paralyzed on the filthy warehouse linoleum, his heart beating a clumsy prestissimo against his chest. He feels faint, and fools himself into thinking it's the causatum of him choosing to give into the Darkness.
When she brushes a damp curl from his forehead and whispers, "I won't let it," he becomes cognizant to his frenzied chanting of, "It's come to take me."
Though she appears out of reach instead of the scant few centimeters she truly is, he identifies his name on her lips. He could be underwater, but he would unfailingly recognize the shape of her mouth as it forms around the letters and syllables that make up his appellation.
"Look at me," she slaps lightly at his face and while he feels numb with the tranquil allure of dusk—so much that he wonders why he had ever been so afraid—he makes an effort to see her.
(Though, was it much of an effort if he felt willingly compelled by her gravity at all times?)
"You're having a panic attack," she informs him.
The Devil doesn't get panic attacks, he wants to defend. It's the Darkness, come to drag me to my damnation.
"Am… I?" he jests instead, and it summons that lovely smile he'd been aiming for, anything to dispel the unfounded concern that clouds her gaze.
"I need you to take deep breaths, okay?" she demonstrates. "Here, do it with me."
It says a lot that he bows to her commands in lieu of the plethora of euphemisms he wants to jibe at that particular phrasing.
Awareness returns to him gradually—thoughts of his demise receding just as his heart stabilizes its ratcheting.
"Y'sure… it wasn't just… the tacos I had… for lunch?" he slurs, juddering fingers flush against the borders of her smile as he aches for something real after the blur of the last few… seconds? Minutes? Hours?
"Pretty sure, yeah," she teases but it falls flat at her watery inflections.
He's not entirely convinced that for the brief period the blackout occurred, he hadn't surrendered to the Darkness. Surely he'd sense his permanent extinguishment? Then again, he hopes It need never discover just how much light she brought to the Lightbringer.
Entrenched amidst the gloaming, Chloe shines.
AN: I'm in a better place today than I was yesterday. I think. I feel like this still has the same tone as the previous installment (chasing cars) but I'll let ya'll be the judge of that.
Wow guys... we're nearly there! As always, thank you for every review, follow and favorite. I see them all, I appreciate them all and I'm so grateful!
I'm actually thinking of participating in the very first Deckerstar Big Bang but like, I don't know what to write! I'm not so good with plot, I'm more on character-driven stories. But if you guys have any prompts or ideas, let me know here or on my tumblr (same handle) :)
See you guys in the next one!
To Devil'sMiracle17 on your chasing cars review: As always, I'm blown away by your insight! Omg, I didn't make the connection between them pressing their foreheads in chasing cars and them in the aftermath of Love Handles. Thank you for pointing it out! I love that parallel you made. Also so glad I made you feel everything, as that's always the goal hahaha. I'm also endlessly tickled by your "It was quite magnificent how you made the reader feel emotions for two characters through the perspective of one" commentary, it gave me so much life and security! I'm doing something right! You unfailingly managed to capture everything I wanted to convey, whether I was doing it consciously or not. I did see the article you so graciously have given me, but read no further than Germ's hilarious but also reassuring comments on Deckerstar because 1) I'm not big on too many spoilers and 2) THAT'S ALL I LITERALLY NEEDED TO KNOW, as well as the other smattering tidbits you shared with me. So long as Deckerstar gets their due in a lovely, organic, healthy way, and the actors said it themselves, I'm completely satisfied hahaha. Thank you so so so much you darling, for your ever present faith in my skill and love for Deckerstar and in turn for my interpretation of them. You always make my day!