everything was meant to be simple; a damn piece of cake compared to some of the mission briefs that Eggsy had been given before. there was nothing out of the ordinary when it came to this—— and maybe Eggsy had been careless. maybe he had been thoughtless, too focused on the outcome and the target to not see what was right in front of him. unable to stop it before everything spiralled out of his control and there were civilians screaming for their lives. Eggsy didn’t know what to do. now his hands were covered in blood ( red, red, red ) and his fingers were trembling from where he’d tried to stop death. from trying to save a life that was slipping away from him all too quickly. panic wrapped around his throat and unable to save them. what sort of agent was he? what sort of person was he, unable to save those that he had joined the ranks of kingsman to help and protect? there’s blood everywhere, Merlin’s voice in his ear rather than his usual handler; telling him that he needs to get back. that he needs to leave. police are on the way—— maybe something higher ranking than that, for another attack, and Eggsy nods dumbly because he can’t feel anything but the warmth on his fingers. he was told not to go back to HQ, that they would go over a debriefing the next day. when his hands stopped shaking and he could breathe without an insistence that he needed to help dying on his lips. he’d been informed that Arthur was aware –—— Harry, he thinks, and hurts even more –—— but Eggsy had signed off without a word… and so he went home, sat in the back of the taxi; blood on his face, his clothes, and still on his hands. under his nails, he realises. covering his glasses, and Eggsy wants to cry. the world outside the house dark and unsuspecting as he opens the door. he toes his shoes off and climbs the stairs. needs to find him, needs to find——— “Harry.”
@snobkilled
