FIC: Dissolution (Adult Content Warning)
I. Breaking Apart
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It’s almost a year to the day since the crisis was declared officially over, since things finally seemed to settle down, since life returned to some kind of normalcy and the city was bolstered and made bold from its brush with blood and terror, that everything unexpectedly goes to hell.
It’s hard to say exactly what’s ( Read more... )
*
It’s almost a year to the day since the crisis was declared officially over, since things finally seemed to settle down, since life returned to some kind of normalcy and the city was bolstered and made bold from its brush with blood and terror, that everything unexpectedly goes to hell.
It’s hard to say exactly what’s ( Read more... )
This hurts so bad. The unspooling horror and slowly unwinding truth of what's going to happen to them is done so well. I kept thinking maybe they'll find a voice on the radio or something will let up--but you kept it honest to where it had to go, and I appreciate that. Really glad you didn't veer away.
Also happy at how long this is, in case you didn't know. :D We would have missed out on brilliant little pieces of the story like Dan experimentally biting his own arm, or Ror scanning the radio dial as a distraction, or missing the pigeon.
Oh god the ending ;_; exactly what it should have been for this. I can't describe very well my feelings about it now but what you should know is I'm seriously floored and impressed. That little memorial to Dan between the brackets was pure love and now I need to call the people I love just to appreciate and say hi because wow.
Favorite line that isn't the ending:
The monsters swarming downstairs test it every few minutes. They have short memories.
Because that's where the horror sinks in.
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I did not set out with the intention of making people appreciate and reach out to those they care about, but I am very glad if I've done so.
Thank you for, as always, a beautifully thought-out and content-and-depth-packed comment that makes me want to write a wall of text in response.
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Yes. That makes me love Dan to tiny little pieces right there. That's so him. That he didn't just... off himself in a less painful way beforehand. That he just stays and tries, like you said. Living together up until the very last inch.
Definitely. Because it whittled everything down, as end-of-the-world pieces should, to the question of what is most important. And who would you rather be with when life as you know it is ending in seconds. POWERFUL STUFF I TELLS YOU.
Seriously, you are always welcome. Thank you for writing stuff that makes me want to wall-of-text myself. And for the most thoughtful responses ever jeez.
ALSO ENJOY MY LAME ATTEMPT AT CHEERING AUTHOR UP
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OK TO MAKE UP FOR IT can I write you that "it was all a dream" thing you mentioned above? Because strangely enough I had the urge to write something like that last but didn't want to impose/be weird/etc.
By the way: IT WAS AN AU AND IT DIDN'T HAPPEN :D
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you're an amazing awesome person, to be so concerned for my mental wellbeing over this and just for how thoughtful and wonderful you are in general.i need to start saying these things
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;_; ♥ That's so kind, really, it's the least I can do. Tuff, you, lio, and sandoz were extremely nice to me when I was an anonymous accountless noob and then again when I finally got an account and let me tell you I was having some tough times and needed it. So now I feel like showering everyone in giant gushy friendship. IT'S THE CIRCLE OF NICE
And idk if you run out of all the other cool people in the world to talk to and need venting I'm daylily_moon on yahoo messenger and undersnowysky on AIM. just so you know!
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thank you, really.
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yes.
:| /is so awkward god wtf
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He comes awake all at once, pulling at air like a drowning man.
Somewhere downstairs wood is splintering and there's an echo he can't quite place and the bed is rocking, one last, one last, but all he can feel is the body that is somehow warmer than it has ever been, hands gripping him, they're at the door and this bed is the last place in the world and it's okay, it's okay, it's not okay but this is the only-
It tilts, goes wrong like a somersault underwater and he can't think which way is up, this is his bed but he wasn't-
Rorschach is over him, all the dark shadows are gone and the terrible hunger and the terror. The midmorning sun casts yellow like some kind of merciful benediction on his face and Dan's heart cracks at it, is this the last firing of dying neurons or some kind of fleeting reward before-
"Hrn. Daniel."
Through the sudden spreading blur he can see the quirk of a smile and God, Rorschach.
He's hovering over, his back making one smooth arch, shielding. No, not shielding. Just companionable, easy; he's in a good mood today, that playfulness he lets out even more carefully and rarely than even his groans when they're together and Dan has to put his hand on his face, just. Just to see.
"Dreaming again?"
A dream. It can't be.
Rorschach bends his face closer, almost forgetting to pretend he's not leaning into Dan's palm and Dan can't stop looking at him.
That network of stitches which imposed itself on his body, marring his skin and pulling it tight over bone, a silent testament to a world coming apart with only the thinnest thread holding off the inevitable-all gone. Dan seeks it out: that scar just there on the end of his ribcage, the one which had nearly healed before all this started, and it's right under his fingertips. His brain wheels, trying to remember if there's a culture where the afterlife has imperfections-
Oh. Oh God, this is real, this-
There's a knee against his, and if he shifts his leg just a little he can feel the press of skin on skin.
Rorschach is looking down at him, patient.
Their bedroom door is open. The hallway beyond is innocuous, and he remembers that the wallpaper there curls up at a seam. He remembers how vaguely irritated he was at the thought of fixing it, how long he put it off, but now it's nothing, so much of nothing.
It was a dream.
He does laugh a little then, shakily; his luck can't be this good, it just can't.
"Let's have breakfast," he blurts, and even if it doesn't make any sense, Rorschach doesn't seem to mind.
//
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<3 So much love. You're wonderful. Thank you so much for this.
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I'm really glad to hear you're liking it. ♥ And you're quite welcome of course!
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Rorschach is sitting drowsily in what was once his kitchen-their kitchen now, a mutual claim by unspoken agreement, ungrudgingly given.
It takes some thinking and brain-pulling for him to remember why Rorschach is tired in the first place; they've been working on a case. They've been working on a case and grabbing only enough sleep to keep moving.
Dan thinks he can understand a little of Jon's confounding way of living: last night conjures up two entirely different nights in his mind simultaneously and they layer one on top of the other. It makes him glance sideways at the basement door as scrambled eggs sizzle, but the longer it remains silent and innocuous, the less he looks at it.
His stomach is still nervous enough that he picks at his plate and swallows his coffee whole, but Rorschach is eating with a ravenous pleasure. The sight of it repairs a crack in his heart he didn't even realize was there.
Rorschach hrums quietly in obvious happiness around a mouthful before looking up suspiciously to find Dan watching him. His expression is equal parts bemusement, strange modesty, and challenge.
All Dan can do is set his chin in his hand and smile.
//
The basement is dank, empty, and whole. He stares down into it, finding the familiar curve of Archie's hull glinting dully from reflected kitchen light, before rejoining his partner in the kitchen.
There's a hand on his back, steadying. Rorschach knows something's wrong but would never force the knowledge, only hovers on the edges of his life as he's always done, waiting. Dan will not contaminate him with this. It's already falling away from him, little by little.
//
He's got the windows thrown wide open, fresh air streaming in: this's the sharp smell of ozone, evidence of electric cars; that's the smell of damp leaves from last night's rain.
After a half-moment of indecision, his fingers turn the radio dial almost before his brain is prepared for it. There are no urgent voices. Music separates the bursts of static, bland tinny modern music he hates and it's so goddamned welcome.
Then to the police frequencies, official channels. New York, Mexico City, Stockholm, Beirut. They're all here.
Suddenly he's hungry now, roaringly hungry, the leftovers from the breakfast he didn't eat are still warm and he knows he's gorging but it just doesn't fucking matter. The taste, it all tastes so good.
When he goes out for replacement food and supplies just because, he walks on his own two feet through the city, gaping at everything like a newly-arrived tourist. It's the people he can't stop staring at: laughing and crying and running and kissing, a man with five piercings in each ear and a woman wearing a non bai tho and children hopping up and down steps. Car horns blare and a baby screeches and everything's fine.
The leaves on the tree he passes under are a perfect, iridescent green, turning and turning against the sky.
//
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He comes home. He puts the supplies away, stores the food. He walks into the living room holding his breath and isn't sure why.
Rorschach is there dozing on the couch, stretched out and relaxed and leonine in his unawareness. Light from the window spreads across his chest and throat. To be able to see him like this, how much they've become-
Tears sting at the back of Dan's eyes, and only now does it really and truly sink in: it was only a dream.
He wants to-he wants to be beside him, close to him, to somehow crawl inside him and for once there's nothing sexual about his impulse even though it's the strongest thing he's ever felt. Dan crosses over to the couch, embarrassed that he's only halfway sorry to be waking Rorschach, but it's not enough to keep him from clambering over the armrest and sinking down until they're pressed together, his body molding to his partner's from long association.
Rorschach just rises obligingly into consciousness, his hands automatically shifting to the small of Dan's back.
"Been acting strangely all day, Daniel," and he's looking down with the eyes of someone who's had thousands of nights' worth of nightmares, who understands, "bad dream?"
"Mnn." Dan burrows his face into the crook between neck and shoulder to keep an inappropriate laugh at bay. You could say that.
He can feel Rorschach's head turn to lean against his instinctively. "I'm here."
It's so simple. Somehow he always knows what to say, even when half of the things that cheer them up would get them a consideration for the mental ward in the best case scenario. It doesn't matter.
It doesn't matter because of the sacrifice he would have made, would still make. And it wasn't as if he were doubting anything beforehand, but-now he's more certain than he's ever been about anything. If the purpose of that visit to death's dream kingdom was to make everything so damn sweet, then: it's working.
"Me too."
And when Rorschach begins pulling up his shirt in a series of tugs, he pushes away at Rorschach's clothes in return so that the sunlight will hit their skin, golden.
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However I must single this out: If the purpose of that visit to death's dream kingdom eeeeee hollow men reference, what a perfect way to tie it back into the end of the other fic. <3 <3
Thank you so, so much.
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You're very, very welcome. ♥ Feel better, you!
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