Pest thinks about it a lot. What it would've been like if he had died in place of Dennis, in place of Jerome. If he had died along with them, even, leaving Moses alone with Biggz, sitting in Ron's weed room deliberately not talking about the empty spaces on the floor.
He bets Moses thinks about it too. That's probably why he's gotten so quiet all of a sudden, staring off at a distant spot in the wall. Thinking. Tragically analyzing every frame of memory.
"If I had just been one step closer..." Moses sometimes says, and he never finishes the sentence.
Pest sits beside him, and they don't talk about the last time they were here, Moses versus the monsters. Not talking about it makes it feel like a dream. They don't have to even accept the reality that Jerome won't come in whining about his sisters, and Dennis won't show up grumbling about his dad being a cunt. And Biggz. Biggz still sits at home, listening to Dennis' voicemail over and over again. He doesn't even talk anymore.
Moses shifts uncomfortably next to Pest, who had started to doze off with the cigarette still fitted between his fingers. "Hey, cuz."
"Mm?"
"When do you think we'll move on?"
Pest thinks about it for a moment. "Don't think we ever will, bruv, trust."
Moses laughs, hollow and fake. "Believe." His voice is taking on the tone it does when he's heavy in thought, as if the bodies and their blood don't ever leave from behind his eyes. Maybe he still hears Jerome's screams when he's alone, or sees the look in Dennis' eyes right before his throat was ripped out.
Pest doesn't remember details. His nan sent him to a therapist, which did fuck all for him. Now he can barely talk about it without his throat closing up.
Subconsciously, he touches the scar on his leg, where the bitemarks haven't disappeared. He presses until it hurts, blinds him with pain, and takes in a shuddering breath. The doctors say it will never heal. He'll walk with a perpetual limp for the rest of his life.
"It's a bit rubbish, innit," he thinks aloud, "but you ever think, if it had been you instead?"
Moses looks at him, looks right through him, to a memory that hasn't left his eyes. "All the time, cuz."
"I wish it had been me," Pest says, in a way he doesn't really mean. He doesn't look Moses in the eye, but he gently touches the ripped skin just above Moses' left eye. Another wound that won't heal all the way.
Moses is so close that Pest can feel the heat from his breath. "Don't you be saying shit like that, man."
And that's what it is.
They feel guilty, both of them, because while Biggz can barely move out of the grief that seizes him, there's that unmistakable, sick sense of relief. Maybe that's why Moses can't stop thinking about it, or why Pest still wakes in cold sweats from nightmares. Like they're being punished.
The truth is that if it had been Pest that died instead, Moses wouldn't have made it. He would've stopped to grieve. He would've made the mistake of not moving on. He'd have been killed.
And if Moses had died -- if Pest had to watch Moses breathe his last breath, if he had to watch him choke on the blood bubbling out of his mouth -- he thinks he'd have been Biggz. Calling his voicemail and never leaving his room, turning pale and wan with sickness and making that mistake of never moving on. He would have lived in the memory forever.
Pest doesn't look quite at Moses but they're both thinking the same thing, hating themselves for thinking it, and the sound of their silence fills the empty room.
He bets Moses thinks about it too. That's probably why he's gotten so quiet all of a sudden, staring off at a distant spot in the wall. Thinking. Tragically analyzing every frame of memory.
"If I had just been one step closer..." Moses sometimes says, and he never finishes the sentence.
Pest sits beside him, and they don't talk about the last time they were here, Moses versus the monsters. Not talking about it makes it feel like a dream. They don't have to even accept the reality that Jerome won't come in whining about his sisters, and Dennis won't show up grumbling about his dad being a cunt. And Biggz. Biggz still sits at home, listening to Dennis' voicemail over and over again. He doesn't even talk anymore.
Moses shifts uncomfortably next to Pest, who had started to doze off with the cigarette still fitted between his fingers. "Hey, cuz."
"Mm?"
"When do you think we'll move on?"
Pest thinks about it for a moment. "Don't think we ever will, bruv, trust."
Moses laughs, hollow and fake. "Believe." His voice is taking on the tone it does when he's heavy in thought, as if the bodies and their blood don't ever leave from behind his eyes. Maybe he still hears Jerome's screams when he's alone, or sees the look in Dennis' eyes right before his throat was ripped out.
Pest doesn't remember details. His nan sent him to a therapist, which did fuck all for him. Now he can barely talk about it without his throat closing up.
Subconsciously, he touches the scar on his leg, where the bitemarks haven't disappeared. He presses until it hurts, blinds him with pain, and takes in a shuddering breath. The doctors say it will never heal. He'll walk with a perpetual limp for the rest of his life.
"It's a bit rubbish, innit," he thinks aloud, "but you ever think, if it had been you instead?"
Moses looks at him, looks right through him, to a memory that hasn't left his eyes. "All the time, cuz."
"I wish it had been me," Pest says, in a way he doesn't really mean. He doesn't look Moses in the eye, but he gently touches the ripped skin just above Moses' left eye. Another wound that won't heal all the way.
Moses is so close that Pest can feel the heat from his breath. "Don't you be saying shit like that, man."
And that's what it is.
They feel guilty, both of them, because while Biggz can barely move out of the grief that seizes him, there's that unmistakable, sick sense of relief. Maybe that's why Moses can't stop thinking about it, or why Pest still wakes in cold sweats from nightmares. Like they're being punished.
The truth is that if it had been Pest that died instead, Moses wouldn't have made it. He would've stopped to grieve. He would've made the mistake of not moving on. He'd have been killed.
And if Moses had died -- if Pest had to watch Moses breathe his last breath, if he had to watch him choke on the blood bubbling out of his mouth -- he thinks he'd have been Biggz. Calling his voicemail and never leaving his room, turning pale and wan with sickness and making that mistake of never moving on. He would have lived in the memory forever.
Pest doesn't look quite at Moses but they're both thinking the same thing, hating themselves for thinking it, and the sound of their silence fills the empty room.
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reads over and over jdaskgasg
pest touching moses' scars i can't
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thank you.
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this is so perfect, i can't even deal with it
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