08-11-2018, 09:33 PM
[align=center][div style="width: 500px; padding: 10px; height: auto; overflow: auto;"][div style="width: 400px; padding: 0px; line-height: 14px; text-align: justify; font-family: helvetica;"]/ most of this is just rambling, only the last paragraphs really matter! summary at the end
how long had it been?
how long had it been since he had held them in his arms? felt their lips on his, fingers entwined? too long. years had passed since the day he lost them in that warehouse. gunshots bursting his eardrums, bullets slicing through the surface of his skin. he wasn't terribly injured, only skimmed by the metal, but his body ached. next to him, his husband, fighting at his side. deep down he knew; there was no way they were getting out of this alive. outnumbered, disoriented, both of them already beaten and broken. mafia fights never did turn out well.
in the midst of the firing, a cry of pain, and then a thump. they dropped to the ground, blood seeping into a puddle within moments. though he wasn't hit, he went down with them, grasping at their limbs and pressing on the wounds, trying desperately to keep them alive.
it wasn't enough.
"go," they whispered. "i won't make it. go." tears had pricked at his eyes, rolled down his cheeks. his husband, bleeding out, dying beneath him and there was nothing he could do. sightless eyes lingered on them for what seemed like forever, only snapping out of it when a bullet skimmed just over their hiding place, breaking the window above. in all his reluctance and regret, he leaned down, sobbing as they kissed for the last time, covered in glass and their own blood.
and he left them.
for every year that passed, he added another scar to his body. intentional or not; whether it be a slip of the hand, or perhaps willingly inflicted, another scar always appeared. a punishment to himself, for leaving them there alone, waiting to die either from loss of blood or a bullet in the forehead by one of the brutes that had attacked the two. five years. five years it had been without lirim, alone in his home, rotting away just about as quickly as an ageless demon could. he had found little things to keep going. a giant mastiff had knocked him over on the sidewalk one day, starving and dehydrated, and he took it in. named the beast belial for the fun of it, and though their time together was short-lived, he grew to love the dog.
meaningless tasks to keep him busy. modeling jobs despite not even knowing what he looked like, spending his time drunk and alone in bars with the occasional flirt of some teen who wanted a sugar daddy (he turned them down every time). in short, he was losing touch. he resigned his position with the mafia, and simply went to rot in his condo.
perhaps whatever god ruled over this world took pity on him.
not very much, it seemed, considering the state of lirim on some empty road by the ocean. bo was far outside the city, been walking for hours, when he stumbled upon them, sitting on the asphalt, spitting blood and drenched in it. at first, he hadn't believed it. of course not; he was blind, relying on his senses, believing this to only be one unlucky bastard until he'd heard their voice. heard them utter his name, cough up more blood, and try again.
he rushed to their side, brushed his fingers over their bloody face, confirmed it was lirim. the state of them sent him into panic. his home was hours away. they would never make it. bo curled his arms beneath their body and pulled them into his arms, flush against his body, and took a chance with walking in the same direction. he didn't know where the road went, didn't have any idea where the closest hospital was. hell, if he needed to, he'd go old style and run into the woods for herb remedies. at this point, with their wounds, that wasn't much of an option. he needed to find someone.
bo whispered comforting words to them as he walked, gripping them tighter and tighter as time went on. twenty minutes down the road, and he began yelling for help, straining his voice, trying to get someone's attention. somewhere in the back of his mind he remembered hearing about a supposedly abandoned town a while outside the city from some tourists. though he had no idea if he was going the right way, it was worth a try. even if the town really was empty, there must be tourists. he would take his chances.
another howl for help, followed by a broken sob. "hang in there," the man choked to his husband, hugging their limp body closer to his chest. "i can't lose you again."
/ tl;dr: bo found his husband nearly dead on a road outside the town and is carrying them in the general direction of san creado, yelling for help
pls don't reply until [member=1844]lirim[/member] does!! ♥
how long had it been?
how long had it been since he had held them in his arms? felt their lips on his, fingers entwined? too long. years had passed since the day he lost them in that warehouse. gunshots bursting his eardrums, bullets slicing through the surface of his skin. he wasn't terribly injured, only skimmed by the metal, but his body ached. next to him, his husband, fighting at his side. deep down he knew; there was no way they were getting out of this alive. outnumbered, disoriented, both of them already beaten and broken. mafia fights never did turn out well.
in the midst of the firing, a cry of pain, and then a thump. they dropped to the ground, blood seeping into a puddle within moments. though he wasn't hit, he went down with them, grasping at their limbs and pressing on the wounds, trying desperately to keep them alive.
it wasn't enough.
"go," they whispered. "i won't make it. go." tears had pricked at his eyes, rolled down his cheeks. his husband, bleeding out, dying beneath him and there was nothing he could do. sightless eyes lingered on them for what seemed like forever, only snapping out of it when a bullet skimmed just over their hiding place, breaking the window above. in all his reluctance and regret, he leaned down, sobbing as they kissed for the last time, covered in glass and their own blood.
and he left them.
for every year that passed, he added another scar to his body. intentional or not; whether it be a slip of the hand, or perhaps willingly inflicted, another scar always appeared. a punishment to himself, for leaving them there alone, waiting to die either from loss of blood or a bullet in the forehead by one of the brutes that had attacked the two. five years. five years it had been without lirim, alone in his home, rotting away just about as quickly as an ageless demon could. he had found little things to keep going. a giant mastiff had knocked him over on the sidewalk one day, starving and dehydrated, and he took it in. named the beast belial for the fun of it, and though their time together was short-lived, he grew to love the dog.
meaningless tasks to keep him busy. modeling jobs despite not even knowing what he looked like, spending his time drunk and alone in bars with the occasional flirt of some teen who wanted a sugar daddy (he turned them down every time). in short, he was losing touch. he resigned his position with the mafia, and simply went to rot in his condo.
perhaps whatever god ruled over this world took pity on him.
not very much, it seemed, considering the state of lirim on some empty road by the ocean. bo was far outside the city, been walking for hours, when he stumbled upon them, sitting on the asphalt, spitting blood and drenched in it. at first, he hadn't believed it. of course not; he was blind, relying on his senses, believing this to only be one unlucky bastard until he'd heard their voice. heard them utter his name, cough up more blood, and try again.
he rushed to their side, brushed his fingers over their bloody face, confirmed it was lirim. the state of them sent him into panic. his home was hours away. they would never make it. bo curled his arms beneath their body and pulled them into his arms, flush against his body, and took a chance with walking in the same direction. he didn't know where the road went, didn't have any idea where the closest hospital was. hell, if he needed to, he'd go old style and run into the woods for herb remedies. at this point, with their wounds, that wasn't much of an option. he needed to find someone.
bo whispered comforting words to them as he walked, gripping them tighter and tighter as time went on. twenty minutes down the road, and he began yelling for help, straining his voice, trying to get someone's attention. somewhere in the back of his mind he remembered hearing about a supposedly abandoned town a while outside the city from some tourists. though he had no idea if he was going the right way, it was worth a try. even if the town really was empty, there must be tourists. he would take his chances.
another howl for help, followed by a broken sob. "hang in there," the man choked to his husband, hugging their limp body closer to his chest. "i can't lose you again."
/ tl;dr: bo found his husband nearly dead on a road outside the town and is carrying them in the general direction of san creado, yelling for help
pls don't reply until [member=1844]lirim[/member] does!! ♥
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I AM THE END OF ALL THINGS.
I HAVE SEEN THE FALL OF BABYLON.
I HAVE DRUNK THE BLOOD OF KINGS.
I HAVE SEEN THE FALL OF BABYLON.
I HAVE DRUNK THE BLOOD OF KINGS.