HS AU Fanfiction - Remorse
More AU fanfic of things that may or may not happen in the future of the canon -- I really gotta stop it, haha. This one is from Nico's POV. Trigger warning for reference to [click to reveal]rape and suicidal ideation.
I'm posting this in my main journal as well as in quadcross because, at least for me, LJ is making the quadcross comm show up funny.
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As I’ve discovered, it’s possible to get insomnia, even when you don’t need to sleep like the mortals do. It’s possible to feel restless and tired and wrung-out, when you don’t even need rest. That shouldn’t happen, but I feel awful for being unable to sleep more than an hour or two at a time in -- I don’t know how long it’s been since that day. Since I saw Breccan on the floor in the library, all broken.
And I broke him. Oh, I know I wasn’t actually the one to force myself on him -- that was Egan -- but it might as well have been. It was one of my kind who hurt him. Like I’ve hurt countless others. I don’t like to think about that, don’t like to think about all the people I’ve -- I’ve raped.
Sighing, I walk toward my locker, ignoring all the admiring looks I get from fellow students at Great Plains High School. I don’t deserve them, and I know it. People have told me what I was doing was wrong, and I was too foolish and full of myself to believe them. What right did mere mortals have to tell a god what to do? My kind are taught to take what we want, human rules of decency be damned. I listened to my people instead of listening to what’s right. I let the admiration from the mortals blinded by my divinity blind me in turn.
I gather my things and head away from the lockers when I hear a sound that’s all too familiar -- it’s Breccan, in obvious distress. My heart that doesn’t need to beat stops when I hear that. Without thinking, I approach the corner from which the noise is emanating. I stop myself when I realize what I’m doing -- no matter what I might wish, the last thing he needs is a visit from one of us.
It’s too late to turn away when spots me, his eyes going wide. I wouldn’t hurt him -- but he doesn’t know that. He shivers, as if he’s afraid of me, and why wouldn’t he be? To him, I am no different than Egan. While I would like to think I’m different now, is that nothing but a lie? I put my arms up in what I hope is a convincing “I mean no harm” gesture. Breccan doesn’t seem to believe me, and my heart breaks.
“Wh-what do you want?” he stammers, hugging one of his schoolbooks close to his chest.
What do I want? I cannot answer him truthfully, for what I want is something I can never have. If I had my way, Breccan would be mine -- in heart as well as body. That’s not possible, and I know it. Even if I were to take him, he would never be mine in the way I want. And I don’t deserve him, in any kind of way.
“I want -- I was just leaving,” I mutter and start to turn away. I can feel my face burn.
“Why?” he asks, his voice tiny.
I turn back around. “Why what?” I don’t understand.
“Why -- why did you tell Egan to stay away from me?” he whispers as he stares at the ground.
For my own selfish reasons. In truth? A large part of me couldn’t stand to see Egan’s hands on Breccan because I want him for myself. Another part of me believes, though, that the other god doesn’t deserve to have his hands on anybody. Breccan has a right to safety and happiness. I can’t give him that, but maybe, just maybe, I can keep Egan from taking it away from him.
“Do you want me for yourself?” Breccan continues.
My heart stops, and I feel ill. How can I answer that? I should lie and tell him that had nothing to do with it. He doesn’t need to hear about my own twisted feelings.
“I -- Egan doesn’t deserve you,” I murmur. I avoid his eyes and clasp my hands together, in order to keep myself from reaching out to him. I want to offer comfort, but I am the opposite of comfort.
“Wh-what? Doesn’t deserve me? But he’s a god,” he says. I think there might be tears in his eyes.
“That doesn’t mean he should be allowed to take who and what he wants,” I mutter bitterly. I think of all the people I’ve taken and feel even sicker.
“You -- don’t think so? But you...” he trails off, confusion plain on his features.
“I am little better than he is, but -- it doesn’t matter. Using people like that is -- it’s still wrong,” I say. This I know to be true, as painful as it is.
Breccan looks up at me. He seems so small. So terrified of me. It hurts to watch, and I don’t think I can stand it, so I turn away again.
“W-wait,” he says.
Reluctantly, I turn back around. This time, he looks directly into my eyes, and it’s so painful, how beautiful his own eyes are. I don’t say anything, just look at him, confused.
“I -- do you really mean that? That you think it’s wrong? But -- but you...’’ he trails off again.
“I have done the same thing as Egan, I know. I am a god, like him. With the same power and the same moral weakness. But I -- I have realized...” I don’t know how to explain, or why exactly I’m bothering.
“What made you change your mind?” he wonders. His eyes are huge now.
My face burns. What changed my mind is Breccan himself, and seeing how distraught he was after Egan took him. I didn’t realize it immediately, but that was the starting point in understanding the depths of my own evil. How can I tell him that, though? I look away and say, “I -- saw what the seduction powers did to someone who didn’t want it.”
“I don’t understand,” he murmurs, his eyes still wide.
“I -- never stuck around to see the...aftereffects of my power. And I saw what Egan did to somebody, saw him lying in the fiction section of the library, all curled up and distraught, red hair a mess and tears streaming down his face as he claimed he wanted it --”
“You -- you saw me, didn’t you?” he breathes. His face reddens, and I realize I’ve said too much.
My own face burns as I nod. “Yes, I saw you. I am sorry.”
Tears start falling from Breccan’s eyes and I want more than ever to comfort him. I violated his privacy by looking in on him in his distress. Knowing I’m one of the last people who could help doesn’t stop me from wanting to try, though. I unclasp my hands and reach out -- barely stopping myself before I touch him. He flinches, and I stammer, “I -- I didn’t mean. I was only trying to...”
I turn around yet again and run out of there. I cause only pain, and it will never be otherwise. For a moment, I plan to kill myself -- before remembering I am immortal and cursed to this wretched existence forever.
I'm posting this in my main journal as well as in quadcross because, at least for me, LJ is making the quadcross comm show up funny.
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As I’ve discovered, it’s possible to get insomnia, even when you don’t need to sleep like the mortals do. It’s possible to feel restless and tired and wrung-out, when you don’t even need rest. That shouldn’t happen, but I feel awful for being unable to sleep more than an hour or two at a time in -- I don’t know how long it’s been since that day. Since I saw Breccan on the floor in the library, all broken.
And I broke him. Oh, I know I wasn’t actually the one to force myself on him -- that was Egan -- but it might as well have been. It was one of my kind who hurt him. Like I’ve hurt countless others. I don’t like to think about that, don’t like to think about all the people I’ve -- I’ve raped.
Sighing, I walk toward my locker, ignoring all the admiring looks I get from fellow students at Great Plains High School. I don’t deserve them, and I know it. People have told me what I was doing was wrong, and I was too foolish and full of myself to believe them. What right did mere mortals have to tell a god what to do? My kind are taught to take what we want, human rules of decency be damned. I listened to my people instead of listening to what’s right. I let the admiration from the mortals blinded by my divinity blind me in turn.
I gather my things and head away from the lockers when I hear a sound that’s all too familiar -- it’s Breccan, in obvious distress. My heart that doesn’t need to beat stops when I hear that. Without thinking, I approach the corner from which the noise is emanating. I stop myself when I realize what I’m doing -- no matter what I might wish, the last thing he needs is a visit from one of us.
It’s too late to turn away when spots me, his eyes going wide. I wouldn’t hurt him -- but he doesn’t know that. He shivers, as if he’s afraid of me, and why wouldn’t he be? To him, I am no different than Egan. While I would like to think I’m different now, is that nothing but a lie? I put my arms up in what I hope is a convincing “I mean no harm” gesture. Breccan doesn’t seem to believe me, and my heart breaks.
“Wh-what do you want?” he stammers, hugging one of his schoolbooks close to his chest.
What do I want? I cannot answer him truthfully, for what I want is something I can never have. If I had my way, Breccan would be mine -- in heart as well as body. That’s not possible, and I know it. Even if I were to take him, he would never be mine in the way I want. And I don’t deserve him, in any kind of way.
“I want -- I was just leaving,” I mutter and start to turn away. I can feel my face burn.
“Why?” he asks, his voice tiny.
I turn back around. “Why what?” I don’t understand.
“Why -- why did you tell Egan to stay away from me?” he whispers as he stares at the ground.
For my own selfish reasons. In truth? A large part of me couldn’t stand to see Egan’s hands on Breccan because I want him for myself. Another part of me believes, though, that the other god doesn’t deserve to have his hands on anybody. Breccan has a right to safety and happiness. I can’t give him that, but maybe, just maybe, I can keep Egan from taking it away from him.
“Do you want me for yourself?” Breccan continues.
My heart stops, and I feel ill. How can I answer that? I should lie and tell him that had nothing to do with it. He doesn’t need to hear about my own twisted feelings.
“I -- Egan doesn’t deserve you,” I murmur. I avoid his eyes and clasp my hands together, in order to keep myself from reaching out to him. I want to offer comfort, but I am the opposite of comfort.
“Wh-what? Doesn’t deserve me? But he’s a god,” he says. I think there might be tears in his eyes.
“That doesn’t mean he should be allowed to take who and what he wants,” I mutter bitterly. I think of all the people I’ve taken and feel even sicker.
“You -- don’t think so? But you...” he trails off, confusion plain on his features.
“I am little better than he is, but -- it doesn’t matter. Using people like that is -- it’s still wrong,” I say. This I know to be true, as painful as it is.
Breccan looks up at me. He seems so small. So terrified of me. It hurts to watch, and I don’t think I can stand it, so I turn away again.
“W-wait,” he says.
Reluctantly, I turn back around. This time, he looks directly into my eyes, and it’s so painful, how beautiful his own eyes are. I don’t say anything, just look at him, confused.
“I -- do you really mean that? That you think it’s wrong? But -- but you...’’ he trails off again.
“I have done the same thing as Egan, I know. I am a god, like him. With the same power and the same moral weakness. But I -- I have realized...” I don’t know how to explain, or why exactly I’m bothering.
“What made you change your mind?” he wonders. His eyes are huge now.
My face burns. What changed my mind is Breccan himself, and seeing how distraught he was after Egan took him. I didn’t realize it immediately, but that was the starting point in understanding the depths of my own evil. How can I tell him that, though? I look away and say, “I -- saw what the seduction powers did to someone who didn’t want it.”
“I don’t understand,” he murmurs, his eyes still wide.
“I -- never stuck around to see the...aftereffects of my power. And I saw what Egan did to somebody, saw him lying in the fiction section of the library, all curled up and distraught, red hair a mess and tears streaming down his face as he claimed he wanted it --”
“You -- you saw me, didn’t you?” he breathes. His face reddens, and I realize I’ve said too much.
My own face burns as I nod. “Yes, I saw you. I am sorry.”
Tears start falling from Breccan’s eyes and I want more than ever to comfort him. I violated his privacy by looking in on him in his distress. Knowing I’m one of the last people who could help doesn’t stop me from wanting to try, though. I unclasp my hands and reach out -- barely stopping myself before I touch him. He flinches, and I stammer, “I -- I didn’t mean. I was only trying to...”
I turn around yet again and run out of there. I cause only pain, and it will never be otherwise. For a moment, I plan to kill myself -- before remembering I am immortal and cursed to this wretched existence forever.