Where all the other moments had been flashes, flipping between himself and not-him, this time was different.
When he was pulled under he was held there, drowning in a torrent of memories as they crashed against him, spinning him in their tumultuous tide and swirling around him in a foaming gush.
He was on the ground, outside purgatory. He floated as the ground fell so he didn’t fall, and could see a ancient castle beneath the earth where he had built his manor. He could hear the sound of beasts. He felt the way his heart panged as he hid the world beneath away, and built his manor again to reside in.
Suddenly he was holding his first Arthur. He felt the wrath burning at his skin and boiling him un-alive from the inside. He felt the way Arthur dangled by that prosthetic he had, where he held him aloft. And then he felt the metal tear and rip with a screech of protest, wires sundering beneath his strength, as he tore the arm from Arthur.
He felt something deep down. A hatred not for Arthur. But he ignored as Arthur ran away.
A flash*, colors swirling.
He was walking down one of the halls of his manor, deadbeats humming as the followed. His fingers brushed the locket he had hidden within his suit where it laid still, and he felt sadness seep over him as he brought it out, opened it to see himself with Vivi. Bone shifted to flesh and he could feel the shift as he changed, and he whispered words to her visage. She was his light of all lights that kept him lit. Kept him fighting. The words hung heavy on him, sapping away the green of him. But it returned as his memories turned from the content ones to those that made him what he is. He snarled, flames licking at him until he was skeletal again and stuffed the locket back in his jacket.
A flash*.
He was attacking one of the grey fae, the first time he had. His fist connected with a jaw. He heard a voice behind him, but his focus was zeroed in on the thing, a sneer and growl on his face and echoing out as he swung his hand out, and fire overtook the thing on the floor, until nothing remained but cinders. No Mercy.
Flash*.
Someone asked him about the moment in the cave. Why he had gone with him. He could feel an ache deep in his chest as he recounted. Arthur was scared, they wanted to go inside. Vivi was confident and Mystery could keep her safe. That he’d wanted to protect Arthur.
But something else tugged at his mind too. A thought of something that was almost warm, a question he’d had. But he pushed it away.
He looked away as he ended with Arthur’s betrayal, trying to keep the pain from leaving his chest.
Flash*
He was briefly alive by magic. And he was dying again. He was bleeding too heavy to save, the pain curling at his form and vision. Burns bubbled and lacerations sliced against his flesh. His hands were burned to numbness and his hair smelled awful, singed as it was. He could feel bones grind and the holes left in his body by jagged metal left him soaked in blood where they’d struck vitals. He collapsed as his knees stopped listening, and soaked the floor with a splattering, bloody cough. Old scars ripped with it, and he screamed until he couldn’t. He laid there then, left to die a slow death in the cold and dark.
*
Vivi was there now, standing in front of him. He could feel his rage frothing to white foam and a pain constrict his anchor as she screamed at him, looking up at him with intense and fiery eyes. They were her blue they were beautiful—
She wasn’t his and she screamed until the rage took him and he slammed his fist into the wall.
*
He was being asked a question again, something personal. He answered, soft. But he knew why. He wouldn’t be vulnerable. Not anymore.
*
Another death. His hand was seeping through ribs of another grey being, tearing them asunder with splayed fingers. He found their heart through the weeping injury. He laughed as he ripped it from the wound and squeezed it into nothing, even as a part of him recoiled.
*
The grey being had said He was cute. And that Arthur was. He protested before the rage seeped in, and he allowed the thing to know that Arthur was only a delight to see when he was sobbing underneath him, feeling as he rent Arthur’s flesh from bone and broke him apart with his own traitorous arm. Something twisted but he ignored it.
*
He saw himself this time. He recognized his earrings. Arthur-him was looking up at him, eyes wide and fearful but still trying to call to him. But also afraid and backing away like the coward he was. His own arm snatched out to grab Arthur-him, but Arthur-him jolted away from it, crying out to him in a desperate voice, trying to appeal to him and continuing to back away. He continued to move forward after Arthur-him, aiming to grab that arm.
*
Vivi and him were clashing again. He touched her shoulders and she yanked away from him, anger across her face that reminded him she would never be his. The pain creased his face and softened his features as he offered an apology she didn’t believe.
*
He was before her again, and she was incanting at him, trying to banish him and send him away. He was too powerful, but Vivi doing that hurt more than anything, and he split at the seams, separating briefly under her magic until he managed to excruciatingly pull himself together. He could feel the mark on his forehead branding itself back into his skull over and over (he was screaming was he screaming it sounded far away--). The corruption had eased just long enough for him to be float there in shock.
And that pause had gotten Vivi hurt. Stabbed in the back.
He dealt with the thing he couldn’t even call Lewis with his fire. Then he collapsed to hold her, blood staining her blue too red he hated it so red it was his fault he should have protected her his fault she was hurt she might die—
He screamed her name, clutching her close, before using his powers to slow the blood flow. To warm her. Then he removed the knife, and felt a himself pierced as she had been, as his hand burned the wound closed and she screamed. He left the faint outline of his hand on her back.
She looked at him after, a smile on her face soft and grateful, and it made his chest jump, before she fell asleep in his arms. He clutched her close, holding her like the precious thing she was to him. But he couldn’t forgive himself for the mark he’d made, that would never truly leave her.
*
He was at Vivi’s bed, laying her down with meticulous care. His hand traced her face, brushing away stray blue strands of hair and his thumb running over her cheek. The thought she wasn’t his, would never be, came again. The thought she would hate him, and it cracked at him all over again. The words he whispered were both pained and loving, before he vanished again into the night.
*
(He knew. Someone had told him years before, and he knew about him. His feelings, though at the time more fleeting. There was something there, curdling under the surface, but mostly it was something vindictive and amused as he spoke. He felt sick in a distant way.)
*
Spectrum had snapped and it cut him to his anchor. But he ignored it to focus on the better Lewis. He was cupping spectrum’s face, as his love tried to hide the damage to his skull. Anger seethed at him, as he asked to know who had done this, and spectrum softly admitted while trying to brush it away. He didn’t allow him to. Him recounting what was hurting him, and how the cave had gone, when Arthur-him had been turned into a monster. (His heart constricted somewhere far away. He didn’t know this. Why didn’t he know this? The sick only clutched him harder.)
*
He had the woman who hurt Spectrum in his sites, The Shiromori yokai. His eyes were ablaze until all he could see was green. His flames came out to consume her, the first letter of her name etched in the air.
*
Vivi apologizing, and his hands on her shoulders, not understanding it was for him, only feeling concern for her, pained at seeing her tears.
*
He was angry. He was upset that so many Lewis felt guilt over what they’d done to Arthur. The rage he felt at his death came back in full force, the loss of his family and the state of the bodies and coffins buried empty. He pushed for them to enjoy it, pushed loud, but even then his form twisted, chest constricting with a pang of guilt.
*
Vivi reaching out, but him pushing her away. He wasn’t good. He couldn’t hurt her. He was an unhappy ending, bound to happen.
*
Spectrum and Vivi both reaching out now, and his hatred of himself making him push them away, tell them he was alright and not to worry. Tell them they should leave, even when he didn’t want them to, because it was safer for them that way.
*
Again.
*
Again. So many he could make a montage of these moments.
*
He was in his manor now, hiding away and steeped in his pain and self-loathing. He refused to let his rage surface and now was alone, trying to contain it and keep all the others safe.
*
Him seated on the ground, ready for the other Lewis to strike him, almost wishing for it. He refused to fight even when they were angry, and he was ready to take the punishment he needed. At least it would make him feel alive.
*
Standing over Arthur-him, annoyed because he promised his friends not to touch him, and Arthur-him isn’t afraid. Arthur-him calling himself selfish, and him agreeing, before laying his threat at Arthur-him’s feet. That if something were to go wrong, he would do what he must for Spectrum and Vivi.
Arthur-him messing with his arm and admitting that maybe he didn’t know him too well. (It was a distant sound he didn’t react to, but a choked laugh, something pained, scratched at his memory). Arthur-him looked up at him and asked him to kill him if he needed to, to keep them safe.
He didn’t know how he felt on hearing that.
*
The wrath burning his skin he felt, finding that Vivi had been harmed, knowing his love was alive now and suffering, and that a demon had struck a deal with Arthur for a part of his soul. That Arthur had allowed it. It burned him and snapped the wavering control he’d managed thus far, leaving him aflame.
*
The rage in his chest boiled as he looked at Arthur-him where he was sitting on the bed. Weak. Just sitting there allowing this to happen. The green around them formed a cage, but Arthur-him didn’t try to run. He could feel the fear, but Arthur-him just sat there.
The thought of breaking every bone slid into his mind as he approached. The thought of leaving him on the floor crying and spending his last breaths. It felt so easy, and it tempted him over and over as he came closer. But something else was planned.
He called Arthur him what he was. A coward. A fool. Someone dooming everyone around him. He screamed the last of his words and his hand collected the front of Arthur-him’s shirt, dragging him to meet his gaze, Arthur-him now dangling. He made sure Arthur-him knew it was his fault.
Arthur-him only accepted it, pale face gaunt and exhausted. Arthur-him’s eyes turned wide as he held on to his fist, eyes seeming to glaze and he started to shake, tearing up but biting his lip. Arthur-him asked him to tell the others he loved them.
He told him to tell him himself, angry at how soft Arthur was but something else twisting too. He wanted to kill him, wished he could—he was sure he did. But he wouldn’t.
Instead his hang plunged in, into Arthur-him’s soul and burned it, burned every inch of it, inside and out. Leaving his mark on what was left of his weak little soul. He burned it through, both the outer edges and the inner core, leaving the Splatter Man’s mark behind.
It would protect Vivi and Spectrum, and that mattered to him most.
It upset him, when doing so and seeing the pain Arthur-him was in, didn’t satisfy. He didn’t enjoy it. It frustrated him in a way that was uncomfortable, but he waved it away, even if the feeling stayed simmering. It was because of the others.
He set him down gentle , and tore his collar, making a bottle of water and adding some to the cloth. He placed it on Arthur-him’s head before pushing the bottle in his hands too. Arthur-him looked up at him with glassed eyes. Arthur-him struggled to sit up and leaned against the wall. When he explained what he had done, Arthur was surprised to hear it would protect him.
He felt something pang watching him recover. He wasn’t pleased, wasn’t thrilled, and that feeling from earlier came back strong enough to pinpoint. Regret.
He answered. It had been his best option, to protect his friends….and it would keep Arthur safe. There wasn’t much, but a minor prick of warmth.
*
They were still talking. Arthur-him said something that made him appreciative, that Arthur-him understood why, and didn’t fault him. In a way that made him feel…not good. He was touching the damage to his suit and offering his thanks.
And then a bat collided with his skull.
It was one Spectrum had in hand. It hurt, and he struggled to get his skull back. Arthur-him fled quickly, leaving him with Spectrum, especially after hearing there was damage to his heart. The two of them started talking.
*
The moment he found out Lewis had been nearly killed by Vivi. The pain and guilt he felt, knowing the warpath she was on was because of him. The very idea he’d placed himself in the line of fire burned, and it only worsened knowing his own actions had been why.
*
Arriving at the place where he’d nearly been killed, and finding him. Placing his deadbeat in the other’s locket despite their soft initial protest, and feeling pain arc through his form. But he pressed on, watching with bated breath as remained still. Fear pricked at him that perhaps he’d been too late, until with a glassy grinding noise, the locket began to beat. Lewis Pepper took his second first breath, and he stayed between pain and relief. He stood on shaky legs, guilt that this was his doing beginning to itch at all of him. He’d made the choice he had with Arthur, he’d upset Vivi with it, and Lewis had been caught in the crossfire. He touched his skull and it ached where Spectrum had hit him. But he knew Vivi would do worse. But he almost accepted it, in a grim way.
The guilt continued to rise, the pain of his sacrifice still affecting him, but oh so worth the cost.
*
Someone asked what he planned to do. He answered true. That he would accept his punishment. He would allow her to hurt him, if it brought her back. He would never hurt Vivi. But if it made her feel better, he would take her anger, no matter what it did to him. He almost felt like he wanted it, to be punished That he deserved it after what he had done (the sensation was so familiar that his far-away body jammed with needles).
*
He was told Arthur-him was in trouble. Something tugged at him, but he tried to ignore it. He stayed with Spectrum, watching him rest. When Spectrum woke he moved closer, before jerking himself back. He felt small for once, nervous and fearful for Spectrum.
Spectrum insisted on going to Arthur-him and Vivi, but he tried to stay adamant, the thought of losing someone else who mattered curdling his insides in the worst way, and for now he listened. Spectrum tried to make him promise not to see Vivi, but he refused to give his word, knowing it might be inevitable. The thought of why, of his action that he’d taken, made the guilt drop his shoulders. The consequences were his doing alone (he wanted to protest, to tell Lewis it wasn’t true—but the words would do nothing here, and were locked away now as it was).
He paused in his conversation as it continued to insisting Spectrum eat and drink. He frowned at the feeling of something distant, but shook his head, focusing on his love. Spectrum didn’t seem happy without his word but accepted it, just like he had accepted if Spectrum must go, that he wouldn’t try to force him not to. They held each other.
The sensation grew worse, but he still tried to ignore it. He didn’t care. He didn’t. It was because of the others.
He pretended it sounded true when he thought it.
They were still speaking, him feeling the tired exhaustion of his sacrifice to his bones. The piece of his soul missing was painful, and the emotions he kept stowed and contained to focus on the others was hitting its threshold. He still kept it tamped down (and oh, the irony of that he felt to his own core, as the thought crossed their mind). He pretended it wasn’t hurting him, to make Spectrum feel at ease.
*
The feeling was getting stronger, and he pushed back against it. He didn’t care. He didn’t care—he didn’t-- Arthur didn’t—
He felt something make his core freeze, and he returned to his skeletal form. Fuck. Fuck he did—
He yelled for Spectrum to get running, and vanished in a haze of vibrant green flame.
*
Pain lanced up his arm, where the bat had struck him. He stood over Arthur-him, before herding Vivi back. Acting as a barrier between the two. He didn’t know why. He told himself and Arthur-him it was for Spectrum.
Then he focused on Vivi. On being that shield, ready to take her rage and allow her to mark hi with it and her bat. Arthur could reach her. He trusted that (his stomach fluttered and he hated himself for it). He told Arthur he had a plan, and Arthur-him trusted him without a second thought. It was hard to tell if he liked that or loathed it after everything.
*
It was working. The plan was working. He kept Vivi busy, kept her from Arthur while he called to her, appealed to Vivi. He did the same, trying to keep her bat from injuring him.
And then she’d slipped through his defense, going after Arthur-him again with a blow he couldn’t survive. He wondered why he was worried—this could be what he wanted. But the thought barely left him before he was in front, pushing Arthur away, yelling as he did. Arthur-him hit the ground, safe, but his chest was struck. He felt agony the reminding him of his moment with the Splatter Man the knife had sunk into his chest.
His voice was a wild scream as it loosed from him, and he felt his form twist and shift to his living one. His heart was broken it hurt so much.
He was down on his knee now, holding up his arm as a feeble defense. He was weeping, open from the pain, all of it, body and soul. He called to Vivi still despite that, in a voice that didn’t echo. He could feel himself fading. His vision was darkening, still in pain from earlier and now this. He felt like he was falling apart, but seeing Vivi fight back gave him the strength to call to Arthur-him to keep trying. Something coppery filled his mouth as he finished the request, and he coughed a splatter of it out onto the earth. His suit faded to the clothing he’d worn as he died.
He tried to stand on legs that wobbled and threatened to snap, but he still reached for Vivi.
It hurt again, and he was so weakened, that the next blast sent him to the ground. He laid against the earth, feeling his blood begin to spread beneath him. The holes that formed, the wounds he’d suffered in death, hurt (feeling them again hurt nonono Lewis you didn’t deserve this--).
Blood ran down his face, and he could feel it welling in his throat before he coughed. It dribbled down over his cheek. He could feel himself beginning to lose himself to shock, going numb and brain slowing. He fought to stay though, knowing he was needed.
Chains were on his arms but he hardly felt them, He saw Vivi above him, felt the kick that made him wince and cough. His bones ground together as her heel found his chest, blood seeping from his injury. He couldn’t understand her now. She was too garbled.
But he still told her how beautiful she was, as her bat raised up.
*
There was confusion when Arthur-him stopped it. But it quickly turned to a will to keep going, even if he knew Vivi was not his and the words reminded him like another bat to his heart. He was in pain, shattered, but he found his feet, held fast behind Arthur, and the two together, through every excruciating second, reached her. He consumed the spirit, and snapped at Arthur-him to go. To take Vivi away. But Arthur was stubborn and refused not to come back. He tried to tell Arthur-him he was fine. He always was. And he tried to sound cold. He didn’t need help.
It was annoying. He should be focused on Vivi, not him.
And then Vivi was blaming herself and it hurt (hurt a second time). He wanted to reach out with everything, but after all he’d caused, he couldn’t allow himself. He drew back, but pled with her to realize the truth. It wasn’t her fault.
It was his.
He couldn’t hold it together much longer. He tried to make them go. His chest dived when Arthur-him said his name, striking him hard (he didn’t know—he didn’t know. He wouldn’t do it if it hurt he didn’t know--). But in a gruff voice he ordered them gone. Fucking Arthur-him had to keep Vivi okay and alive. He fucking hated the concern, hated it from Arthur of anyone. He barely had the energy to be angry, but he was. They were both saying his name now and it was knives on him and finally he shifted, returning to his suit to hide his dying form, hoping that was enough for them to stop. He could feel blood seeping through the fabric but he ignored it.
He finally allowed Arthur to come back. They would get Vivi safe and to the better Lewis. He demanded they go, and when they complied finally, he watched before smiling. They were better off. They were all better off, and he’d done something…good.
He formed something to hide his body, and he collapsed with the sound of breaking glass into a hollow, lifeless heap.
*
Arthur came back to get him and brought him home. And then Arthur-him kept coming back. It was infuriating. He had Spectrum and Vivi to take care of! He’d be fine alone! Like he always was! What was the stupid man doing, being here and giving him gifts? Smiling at him like that was acceptable? What was he doing being here when they others needed attention too?
*
He couldn’t see Vivi—he couldn’t. She needed time, she wouldn’t want to see him, it was his fault she was like this, his fault she was hurt. He couldn’t see her, even if others needled him to. He couldn’t.
He was…. Afraid.
*
They were needling, the grey beings, and it hurt this time. They were right. He regretted it. He regretted what he did. He knew why but he hated it.
Maybe he should stay away. Maybe it was safer for everyone (the though cut at something deep and hidden).
He closed his manor doors, and all the lights went out as the doors locked.
He was dangerous. This was for the best.
*
Spectrum wouldn’t leave him alone. He was here, and honestly it was nice. He felt horrible, selfish, for wanting it, but his company was something, and he held them as they rested together, hating himself for how much he loved it.
*
Arthur asked for a kiss, and he was pissed. How could he? It was magical in nature, forced, but he could he ask for that? The knife in his back twisted at the thought (he’s sorry, he’s so sorry) as Arthur even asked. But he still held out his hand. He ignored Arthur’s grateful look.
*
His father was ill. His father was sick and they were telling him to go to him. But how could he? He was a monster. It was….. it was better this way. If he didn’t. He couldn’t hurt them anymore.
*
It was new years. He was healed now, in body, but his soul still echoed his pain in the fractures along his locket. The wouldn’t have happened if he saved Arthur. Why had he? He did care for some reason. Maybe how much it would have cost Vivi and Spectrum. But the damage was done.
His hand on the heart squeezed. It leaked with his power, but the damage made it harder to contain. His anger was consuming him, rage screaming over logic. He was hurting people. Ones he never wished to.
His fingers found the wall with strike, and he shoved the locket away into the dark. He would maintain control. He had to.
Unless it came to those who earned his wrath.
*
Lewis showed, returning his deadbeat now that he was healed. He almost wanted to refuse it, to tell Lewis to keep the deadbeat longer. But Lewis insisted in a way he couldn’t argue. He took it back with only a slight frown.
*
Vivi had showed, recovered as well as she could be. Her presence had shocked him after the converasation he’d been having with a creature. She laughed and it hurt so much, how long it’d been since he heard it.
He told her she shouldn’t be here. But she didn’t. She drew closer and the tension and fear pounded against him. She was so stubborn. He loved her for it but he couldn’t he shouldn’t she wasn’t his—
He noticed her clothing, and he paused. He wanted to reach out and his hand even twitched to, but he held it back.
She was crying now. She told him it was her. He showing herself as she was, with not barriers between them. She was hurt, scarred (so scarred he hadn’t even seen all of these). She choked on her words but forced them. She wanted him to stop leaving. She wanted him to stop hiding. And so in exchange… she wouldn’t hide from him. She was laying herself bare.
He felt himself cringe watching her cry. It cut him to his soul, leaving him lost for words. She had so much weight she kept hidden, so much she carried she let no one see.
Glass broke as she did. He took off his coat, resting it over her. He could only apologize. Tell her he never wanted her hurt. That… he was scared. And the apology came again. He was honest, vulnerable in way he seldom if ever was.
He was so locked in his thoughts, it jarred him when her fingers brushed against the skin of his face, wiping at his own tears. She was smiling at him now. Forgiving him. Her forehead touched his.
She called him by Lewis again and it made his chest tighten. Did he have a right to be Lewis? He wasn’t like any other. He was something corrupted and changed.
It felt wrong. Wrong for her to be this close. Wrong for her to say that name and to touch him. He felt walls crumbling, an internal scream to get away screeching on repeat. He had to remind her. He wasn’t her Lewis. He was alone. She deserved better than this. Better than him.
His hands shook as he too hers, curling them over hers where they framed her face. The temptation was so heavy, weighing him down. But he had to be strong. She shouldn’t want this.
But she did. He almost didn’t want her to, but she did. And she kept speaking. And she went to say-
It scared him and he tried to stop her—he begged even, afraid of the words that might leave afraid of what they might mean. His stomach was in his knees and his heart beat faster, thumping and damaged. He was shaking, knowing what was coming, And when she screamed them and he was falling, sliding down where he couldn’t stop. He shifted again, something living but between Splatter and Lewis.
He had her against the wall in a beat, and he ached until his lips found—
*
Another grey being. He held it in his hands, tempted to stop holding back. His family had been told of his death, and it was the one thing he didn’t want for them. He lost it, finally, and his fist crushed them into paste, burned until blacked ash when he was done.
*
He was filling up up up—up with too much so much he couldn’t breathe he didn’t need to but all this power was everywhere, and holding it back was so tiring. It hurt. Was he even him anymore? Could he be when this was turning him into a monster, no matter how he tried?
*
Thud
Thud
Thud—
Stop hitting him. Stop it wasn’t good. It wouldn’t end well please stop he didn’t want to hurt him please—
Thud
Thud
Enough.
*
Regret.
It pounded against him as he panted, looking down at the Lewis he had nearly destroyed. He cried out, feeling himself twisting around and lurching, before leaving. What had he done? Why had he done that? How could he? Was he Lewis if he fell to those moments? Could he even be a good man anymore?
Maybe he was just a monster.
*
Lewis was yelling. He cared, but he just stayed calm. Regret soaked him like gasoline and he was burning and nearly on fire for it. The words he said carried a finality because… it was. He was not safe. He needed the others away.
He placed his locket in Lewis’s hands. He would see what happened. Maybe he’d be free from this finally.
The grip began to tighten, growing tighter and then—
*
Lewis was on the ground and he was scared. He lifted him up, running, trying to find anyone who could help. Lewis told him how he had scared them, and he felt a pang a guilt.
But he would do—
*
Someone asked him if he felt things for Arthur. Pain trickled through as he whispered the truth. He was a better man, once.
The recounting was painful. He loved them. He did. Surely what happened was his fault when things had changed. And then he died. And now… a family seemed impossible. He wouldn’t bind them to his own fate.
*—
He was in the woods. He was crying he was bleeding he felt like he was dying—
He was him.
He made it. Arthur sobbed a ragged breath in the grass, heaving and shaking, filled with agony and relief. Everything was painful everything was so much it hurt it hurt he just—.
His eyes dimmed and then closed, and Arthur passed out.
