It’s not fair. Not fair at all. It wasn’t supposed to end like this. Never like this. The penthouse feels empty, naked without the bubbly laugh.
He had already lost him once. And spent the next five years trying to move on. And he had. He mourned him once already. Doing it again was unimaginable.
It’s not fair.
The big brown eyes were supposed to look at him with that adoration and love until he died. Not stare at him, empty, gone.
How could he even let this happen? He was supposed to protect him. He promised, didn’t he? He would protect him until the day he died.
He failed.
It’s not fair.
They had just gotten together when he died the first time. After dancing around the tension for way too long. He was 23 back then. Last year of college. And they were happy.
Seeing him on that battlefield five years later was enough to keep him going. They had to win. He just got him back. Broken ribs and dislocated shoulder aside. Ruined armour and face stained with blood and tears.
He didn’t care. He had him back. They would be okay. They could move on. Keep going. Saving lives and messing around in the labs. Pranking each other with their genius minds. He could fall asleep, feeling safe. Knowing he was right there. Taking care of the nightmares.
It’s not fair.
The headstone is dull. He doesn’t see the point. He’s not there. He never got to see it. Never had a say in what it should say. What it should look like. He hates it. The way his name is standing out in the delicate letters. His name should never have been engraved in a stone in the first place.
He stares at the picture on the wall. They look so happy. Laughing with tears in their eyes and arms wrapped around their bellies. Lying on the floor of their pillow fort.
He smiles at it. Just a ghost of the smile he once used to wear. The one only he could summon. It belongs to him, he thinks. It’s his. Only his. Forever his.
It’s not fair.
He sleeps on the couch. Whenever he passes out from exhaustion. He can’t stand the look of his bed. Still a tangled mess of blankets from his last day.
It had been a nice day. A good day. They had kissed each other good morning, basked in the warmth of each other. Bickering back and forth over breakfast. Some silly argument about time. Why does it matter? We have all the time in the world. He had said. How wrong he was.
If only he had picked up the phone. If only he had joined him on patrol. If only... it doesn’t matter. He’s gone. He won’t come back this time. Even his healing couldn’t deal with that fall. If only he had been there in time. We have all the time in the world.
It’s not fair.
He doesn’t drink. In another world, maybe he would. He promised never to do it again. He swore, and cried and begged for forgiveness. And he never touched a drop of alcohol again. If he was here, he would be proud. Maybe. But he’s not here. Not anymore. Never again.
He will never hear the off tune singing in the shower. He will never again wake up to brown curls tickling his nose. He will never again witness the pure excitement every time the Star Wars intro started on the tv. He’s gone. And all he has left is an unmade bed and pictures on the walls.
It’s not enough. It will never be enough. He went through this once already. Held him in his arms as he disappeared in the wind. He wasn’t there this time. It was never supposed to be a next time. He should have known. He should have prepared. But they were doing fine. They were happy. Twelve years together. Twelve years gone. Like the dust the first time.
It’s not fair.
Twelve years is not enough. Never enough. It wasn’t supposed to end like this. They had all the time in the world.