In My Dreams (Will You Remember Me?)
Flower Husbands Fic - Chapter Nineteen- I Could Have Been Anyone, Anyone Else TW and AO3 Link in reblogs
Jimmy stares at the man in front of him. He’s familiar, in a way that makes his heart sing. His hair isn’t the same shade of cyan as his husband’s is, but it’s dirty, and Jimmy can’t fault him for that. His eyes are the safe green shade that Jimmy swore to protect, but his eyes haven’t been red for so long, and cyan really does suit him. Jimmy knows him, his flower, the husband he dances with in his dreams. The man seems to recognise the nickname, but, well-
The corruption that coats his eyes doesn’t allow him to see all that well.
There’s heartbreak in the silence that hangs in the air. Jimmy isn’t stupid, far from it, and he knows that the words that he let fall will end with someone getting hurt. He isn’t naive, nor is he new to this place. He knows what silence brings. The heartbreak in the air takes a stab at his heart as his husband kneels helplessly on the floor. His slip of the tongue could end with either of them being in a great deal of pain, especially if Xornoth decides to spend his energy on being angry with him. Pain is something that Jimmy can deal with, but this man? His husband?
He doesn’t look like he’s been harmed before.
Sure, he rests in soot stained clothes, but there is an air about him. It may be the lack of blood, or perhaps it is the golden jewellery that still rests on his arms, around his neck, but there is something about him that makes Jimmy believe he’s not been hurt. There are no bruises on him, no old blood to stain his clothes - even though so much of it is white or blue. It’s no innocence that makes his husband appear this way, it’s the lack of practicality. He wears a uniform, but one that was poorly designed for battle. Poorly designed for the place he is in.
Jimmy doesn’t want him to be hurt, especially for a slip of Jimmy’s own tongue.
Jimmy feels the familiar cold of a sword against his throat, and knows that his mistake will not be forgiven. There’s a moment, one Jimmy isn’t proud of, where he’s blinded with rage. One word, one small mistake and he’s set back. His husband can scream at Xornoth but one word makes Jimmy a risk? Jimmy swallows the rage, letting it fester in wounds too deep for him to acknowledge, ones that may be too old to heal, and stokes the slimmer of relief that he feels until it burns through his whole body. He can’t save his husband, but he can ensure that he isn’t harmed.
“Explain, Jimmy.” Xornoth demands, and Jimmy’s heart sinks. He can’t lie, he’s not convincing enough. And even if he were, Xornoth knows when someone is lying. Jimmy can’t get Sausage’s screams out of his head, nor the lies he told them. But it’s alright now, Sausage’s loyalties are no longer split, his sister is one of them, and Xornoth is -
Well, he is. Not happy, not content. He just is.
The sword presses closer to Jimmy’s neck, enough to dig into his skin. It’s sharp, familiar in a way that makes him sick. He doesn’t want to talk, he doesn’t want to put his husband in danger, but he can’t help him if he’s recovering from respawn, or if he’s bleeding out.
“Jimmy, explain. How do you know him?”
His husband tears up, and opens his mouth, but Jimmy lets the words fall out of his lips before anyone can get hurt.
“He’s my husband.”
The sword falls from his neck, and Xornoth laughs. It’s dark, and Jimmy watches as his husband fails to suppress a shudder at the sound. His husband looks shocked, and guilt eats away at Jimmy’s throat. He never wanted to get him hurt, but he couldn’t lie to Xornoth. Surely he’s understand? Surely he’d know that Jimmy would never wish any harm on his.
Jimmy opens his mouth to apologise, as an arrow strikes his throat.
Jimmy watches as he dies. Once to lava. Once to tnt. Once to an arrow. Jimmy watches as he lives. He watches as he meets his husband, as they get married in a small, private ceremony. He watches as he protects him, and is protected in return. He watches as his husband, his Scott, rebuilds his house, even though they more often share a house.
He watches his husband bury him.
He remembers his after, waiting in the meadow for his husband to join him. He remembers spending sleepless nights practising a dance to teach to Scott, so they would always be able to remember each other. He watches as war brews, as bunkers are made.
He watches his husband get shot, and follows him soon after.
And then its buried.
—
There’s a saying, in a script that lies half read on his bedside table. ‘Heaven has no rage like a love to hatred turned, nor Hell a fury like a woman scorned’. Scott would like to challenge that playwright to enter this room. There is a palpable anger that flows through him, and though he’s never quite liked the term ‘blood boiled’, he finds his veins filled with magma more than blood.
And the world freezes.
Scott knows this feeling. He knows who he summoned, even if it were by accident. It’s the same feeling as the mountain. The world is frozen, and Aoer appears. The mountain was a far better setting for the deer, in Scott’s opinion, but he doesn’t mind Aoer being here. He should, but he finds himself not caring.
“Hello, champion.” Aoer says. “Why did you summon me?”
“They killed him.” Scott says. “I won’t let him hurt anyone again!”
“How can I help you?”
“I don’t know.” Scott says, though the rage in his heart doesn’t die. “Just- Please. Please help me.”
“Of course.”
The god disappears.
But not fully.
Scott can see a lot more of the room that he’s in. He’s not sure if he’s been blessed with better sight, or if the god has decided to inhabit his body, but it’s as though he can see the magic in the air. Time unfreezes as he stands, and he knows that Aoer has decided to possess his body. The ropes fall from his wrists, and Scott’s antlers glow golden. Xornoth stands, and Scott’s rage explodes out of him.
And Scott screams.
Fwhip is thrown backwards by the shockwave, and Xornoth shakes as he struggles to stand. Scott doesn’t care, all he can see is red. How ironic, the favourite colour of the man who killed his soulmate is the only thing he can see as he throws himself at the demon in front of him? It’s almost funny, and if Scott has any peace of mind he would laugh.
“How dare you kill him?” Scott snarls. “How dare you hurt him?”
Xornoth laughs, and the love for his brother leaves his heart.
There is no room for love in this place. There is no time to mourn the brother that once was. Scott and Aoer will both mourn, once the dust settles and the war ends, but both of them must fight the only family they have left. It would be a lie to say that the god and mortal both understood each other’s pain, but they share it between themselves, letting the pain of betrayal and the centuries of guilt mix into a dead rage. Scott can’t find where he ends and the hurt begins, but he throws himself at his brother all the same.
It’s the only thing he has left.
The fight is nothing like the carefully thought through fights he has done before. This isn’t a dance, nor is it something that will throw him into a memory. No, this is a street brawl. This is a pub fight, where Scott forgoes his weapons for his teeth, for his nails. This is a battle that has lasted for longer than any text book, for longer than any story.
“Give me back my heart you wingless heratic!” Scott screams, launching himself at the demon he once called brother.
Xornoth manages to fling Scott across the room, and Scott summons a trident from somewhere. The weapon isn’t his, he’s never wielded a trident before, none of his people have ever needed to learn how to. But it feels right.
Scott spins the trident with ease, letting Aoer take control over the weapon.
Sparks fly as sword clashes with trident, and Scott spins as he dodges a swing. There’s no beauty in this dance, no honour among brothers and gods. No, this fight is one of cheap shots and betrayal. Aoer tries to keep some form of honour as Scott dodges, but Scott holds no bars. He lost nearly everything to Xornoth. His friends. His soulmate. His parents. His real brother. Scott holds no honour, he doesn’t let him consider it. If he cannot save his brother, he will kill him before he can drag more people down with him.
Xornoth lies on the ground, panting and glaring at Scott. The demon that masquerades as his brother spits at his feet. The dust settles around them, fresh blood spilt on the floor. Scott knows he’s wounded, but he barely feels it. Either Aoer or adrenaline keeps him numb, but he can’t mind it. He’s going to vanquish the evil, he’s going to save the world, right here, right now.
“No!” Jimmy shouts, standing in front of Xornoth. “Don’t.”
Scott lowers his - Aoer’s? - trident, anger dulling. Jimmy can’t see him, Scott knows that. A layer of red film rests over his soulmate's eyes, creeping down his cheeks like tear tracks. Scott can’t strike him. Lizzie was right, all those weeks ago. Even without his oath to Lizzie, he isn’t able to harm Jimmy.
“Jimmy?” Lizzie’s voice breaks, startling the trio. Scott doesn’t turn, he can’t afford to take his eyes off of Xornoth, but two pairs of footsteps rush into the room.
Lizzie and Joel walk to their brother, and the air stills. There is something holy, something saintly about the reverence that Lizzie and Joel hold for Jimmy. Tears prick in both of their eyes, and Lizzie cradles Jimmy’s faces with so much care you’d think she feared shattering him. Joel unsheathes his sword, nodding to Scott as tears run clean lines through the ash that stains his face.
“No.” Lizzie swears. “No, Jimmy.”
She thumbs over the corruption on his cheeks, failing to rub it away. Jimmy’s hands fall to his sides, and Lizzie doesn’t move. Silently, painfully, she takes one of his hands, and places it on her necklace. She watches as his expression doesn’t change, as no words fall from his lips. There’s no cure for the corruption that they know of, and Scott doesn’t know how to help.
“You brought me the necklace as a wedding gift.” Lizzie says. “I remember how nervous you were, giving it to me. You explained it in so much detail. The rose quartz represents love, you said, and the red jasper is a common crystal found in Mezalea. You were so worried about it being a poor gift, even though you enchanted it with protection and healing, Jimmy.”
“You told me I was acting stupid.” Jimmy’s voice is far off, but it’s there. “And I got Joel a wolf.”
“A wolf bracelet, mate.” Joel laughs. “Not an actual wolf.”
Xornoth shakes, trying to stand, and Scott takes a step closer, glaring. Lizzie and Joel exchange glances with each other, and Lizzie gently pulls Jimmy away from the demon. Joel pushes the Codfather Head into Jimmy’s hand, and Lizzie turns Jimmy away from Scott and Xornoth. Scott makes eye contact with her, and she nods.
And Scott puts the trident through Xornoth’s throat, and red eyes fade to blue.