Thank You
Sad fic, and a rant of sorts. Snund of course.
Warnings: Deals with depression and hints of other darker themes.
Word Count: 1059
I had a really rough night in which I didn't really feel safe within my own thoughts, and from it, this emerged. It’s as much an outpour of my own emotions as it is a fanfic, and I apologize if some things don’t make a lot of sense. I have a difficult time talking about things, both in real life and in writing, and so things like this come about. Regardless, I am proud of this short fic, and I hope despite it all you find some satisfaction in it.
The lights were off in the small bedroom again. The curtains drawn so that the only source of light was the blue discolouration emanating from Jund's phone, turning his pale face a sort of sickly colour. Even before he'd stolen the phone from Jund's grasp, he'd known what would be on it.
“Looking at the depression tag on Tumblr isn't going to help anything, Jund.” Snake said quietly.
Jund rolled over, pulling the sheets up to his chin. That was his only response.
“Can we do something today, Scott?” Snake asked softly. “You haven't been outside for weeks. I'm getting worried again.”
“What did you have in mind?” Jund responded, voice barely audible, even in the dense quiet.
Snake ran his hand through Jund's hair softly, not wanting to overwhelm him while still needing some sort of contact. “Do you think you're up for a surprise?”
“Maybe.” Jund sniffed.
“Alright.” Snake smiled at the small victory. “Do you want to get dressed and meet me outside, or do you think you might need help?”
“No, no. I can manage.” Jund said. Snake took that as his cue to leave. He stopped just beyond the door, hand on the handle.
“I'll be right outside if you need me.” He didn't. A few minutes later, Jund walked out wearing his favourite hoodie with the extra long sleeves, which he periodically pulled down despite their length. An unfortunate nervous habit he'd developed. Snake didn't comment on how warm it would be for him outside, merely took his hand and led him out of the apartment.
The drive was long, as Snake had expected, and much to his delight, Jund had fallen asleep before he could tell where they were heading. He was so tired lately. Snake's heart went out to him; he really wished he could do more to help. But like the therapist had said at the end of Jund's last visit a month ago, all he could do was be there for him. And with one hand on the wheel, the other tracing the familiar feel of the simple gold band on Jund's left hand, he thought he was doing just that. And not too badly, either.
Snake pulled into the parking lot and quit the engine, reaching over to slowly wake Jund up. He didn't even jump upon awakening like he normally did, instead just surveying his surroundings without a word.
“It's just a bit further on foot.” Snake said, knowing well enough Jund knew that. This place was unmistakeable. Jund would have known the minute he saw the gravel parking lot alone where they were, but he chose to stay silent.
Snake led the way, hand still locked with Jund's mostly out of fear of losing him completely. The thin forest obscured most of the deepening sunlight, casting dappled shadows of orange light on two downtrodden faces. And then suddenly the trees were gone, opening onto a cliff overlooking the sea some ten feet below. Waves crashed upon the rocks, seagulls called to one another, and the leaves behind them danced in the salty breeze. Cold mist fell upon their faces in waves, warming slightly in the light of the setting sun casting brilliant shades of pink, red, and orange across the sky.
“You remember this place, don't you, Scott?” Snake asked quietly. He glanced over at Jund but the other man's eyes were fixed on the view before them.
“Don't you remember?” Snake asked, letting go of Jund's hand and leaving him where he stood to walk into the middle of the cliff face. “The chairs were set up here.” He moved closer to the edge of the cliff. “And the arch was here. You didn't like that stupid thing, but everyone seemed to insist it was necessary.” With a start, he walked back towards where the path cut through the trees. “And you and I walked in from here together. All of our friends were there. Everyone we cared about, and who cared for us.” Snake sighed. “Everyone.”
Snake walked back towards Jund, noting the shine on his cheeks but refusing to break the moment. He faced him, hand running down his arm. “Scott?”
“Of course I remember.” Jund replied shakily. “I could never forget.”
“Good.” Snake moved beside him, shielding his own tears from view. He led Jund closer to the edge, but only a little, and together they watched the sun slowly slip through the sky.
“Thank you.” Jund said quietly at one point. Snake had to take another moment.
“I... have something for you.” Snake broke the moment.
Jund hummed in mild interest.
“It's... well, here.” Snake held up a small wooden box, painted black. The finish had been marred by darker streaks of a substance neither of them felt much like identifying. Snake kept the latch closed. They both knew what was inside. “It's time to make a choice. Now's a good a place as any to make a fresh start. You can toss it in the ocean, or you can choose to take it home. Just know I'll be with you no matter what you decide.”
Jund took the box from his outstretched palm, examining it closely. A year's worth of pain flashed past his eyes, and Snake worried for a moment that he had made the wrong move. But in a moment of blind courage, Jund walked to the edge of the rocks, holding the little box closely in front of him. He bowed his head as if debating which would be the right move, and subconsciously Snake felt himself take a step towards him. But suddenly Jund reeled his arm back and sent the box flying out into the ocean.
Both of them were frozen in place, unwilling to break the moment for fear that it would come crumbling around them like some sick dream. But as the sun touched the horizon, a startling clarity washed over them both, and Snake, more calm in that moment than he had been all year, met Jund at the cliff's edge. Fingers entwined once again, sad but powerful smiles settling onto two pairs of lips as the waves continued to stir up mist. As the leaves continued to whisper in the wind. As the Earth continued to rotate. With both of them still in it.
“Thank you, Snake.”
“No, Jund. Thank you.”