Lost Fic: the monster at the end of this book (Miles/Richard)
Title: the monster at the end of this book
Pairing: Miles/Richard
Rating: R (Dark themes)
Words: 641
Disclaimer: Not mine. Title shamelessly stolen from Supernatural and/or that book about Grover.
Summary: The moments before death don’t haunt him the way they used to, it’s what comes after.
A/N: For bittersweet325 who requested “darkness” + Miles/Richard. Happy Halloween!
He dreams of bodies, voices screaming out to him their last words---hundreds of them now, all crammed inside his head. He can almost feel bones cracking, knives slipping into his back; taste the faint copper taint of blood on his tongue. He can deal with this, the moments before death don’t haunt him the way they used to, it’s what comes after.
Miles twists in the bed he shares with Richard, a fine sheen of sweat has formed on his forehead, and he’s groaning slightly, trying to force himself awake. In his dream, he’s kneeling beside a man wearing nothing but piss stained underwear---electrocution, death by iron. The part of him that knows he’s sleeping remembers this case, remembers the smartass remarks he made to his cop buddy, the way he was so fucking pleased with himself when they all laughed.
The man sits up and chuckles.
“I was going to see my daughter’s play. She was a shrub. Dodged a bullet there didn’t I, friend?”
Miles winks at the suddenly talkative dead man.
“Too bad you couldn’t dodge the wall socket.”
“Win some…”
“Get killed because you’re not man enough to leave the house in wrinkled slacks.”
The man’s smile disappears slowly as he stares blankly at the wall behind Miles.
“It’s coming.”
Miles closes his eyes, feels the hairs on his arm stand on end. He hates this part. Wake up, wake up, wake up.
The man begins to scream and Miles is paralyzed, his body shuddering now. He turns and glimpses it, vast and dark. A sprawling nothingness come to pull the poor bastard into the void. He opens his mouth to scream, but there’s a hand on his shoulder pulling him away…
“Miles? Miles, wake up.”
Miles sits up in the middle of the bed, his heart hammering in his chest. Richard’s hand is on his back, warm and reassuring. Despite himself, Miles is shaking.
“It was just a dream,” Richard murmurs as he rubs Miles’s back.
Miles doesn’t look at him, just covers his face in his hands and laughs bitterly. He should be used to this by now. He’s been having the dreams since his eighth birthday. His very own version of the shining, but the funny thing is the crap never gets any easier.
“Nightmare,” he corrects. “A big, fucking nightmare.”
In the darkness, Richard shifts closer. Miles can feel Richard staring at him.
“Tell me about it.”
Miles knows Richard has his own dreams. He also knows Richard’s scared shitless of death, even now. And he knows Richard’s curious about what Miles can do. Sometimes he looks at Miles like he’s in on some big cosmic secret that he’s refusing to share with the rest of the class. He kind of is of course. But it’s the kind of secret Richard’s better off not knowing.
“Just…the island. Smokey. Time travel. The usual. Must be Tuesday, right?”
Richard tugs Miles back towards the pillows, pulls him close to his chest until Miles can’t help but relax a little. At least his teeth have stopped chattering.
“You’re a very good liar, Miles,” Richard says doubtfully, his lips brushing against Miles’s ear.
For a moment, Miles thinks of telling him the truth, of sharing the fear. But Richard’s told him too many stories about Jacob and Miles knows why Richard made the choice he made.
He’s got enough burdens without Miles giving him one more. Besides, he’s better off not knowing until it’s time. It’s a luxury Miles can never have, but he can give this to Richard like a really fucking morbid Christmas gift.
“I try,” Miles says and presses a kiss against Richard’s arm before closing his eyes again.
As he drifts off to sleep, his body gives one final shiver. He knows it’s there waiting for him, it’s waiting for everyone.
Pairing: Miles/Richard
Rating: R (Dark themes)
Words: 641
Disclaimer: Not mine. Title shamelessly stolen from Supernatural and/or that book about Grover.
Summary: The moments before death don’t haunt him the way they used to, it’s what comes after.
A/N: For bittersweet325 who requested “darkness” + Miles/Richard. Happy Halloween!
He dreams of bodies, voices screaming out to him their last words---hundreds of them now, all crammed inside his head. He can almost feel bones cracking, knives slipping into his back; taste the faint copper taint of blood on his tongue. He can deal with this, the moments before death don’t haunt him the way they used to, it’s what comes after.
Miles twists in the bed he shares with Richard, a fine sheen of sweat has formed on his forehead, and he’s groaning slightly, trying to force himself awake. In his dream, he’s kneeling beside a man wearing nothing but piss stained underwear---electrocution, death by iron. The part of him that knows he’s sleeping remembers this case, remembers the smartass remarks he made to his cop buddy, the way he was so fucking pleased with himself when they all laughed.
The man sits up and chuckles.
“I was going to see my daughter’s play. She was a shrub. Dodged a bullet there didn’t I, friend?”
Miles winks at the suddenly talkative dead man.
“Too bad you couldn’t dodge the wall socket.”
“Win some…”
“Get killed because you’re not man enough to leave the house in wrinkled slacks.”
The man’s smile disappears slowly as he stares blankly at the wall behind Miles.
“It’s coming.”
Miles closes his eyes, feels the hairs on his arm stand on end. He hates this part. Wake up, wake up, wake up.
The man begins to scream and Miles is paralyzed, his body shuddering now. He turns and glimpses it, vast and dark. A sprawling nothingness come to pull the poor bastard into the void. He opens his mouth to scream, but there’s a hand on his shoulder pulling him away…
“Miles? Miles, wake up.”
Miles sits up in the middle of the bed, his heart hammering in his chest. Richard’s hand is on his back, warm and reassuring. Despite himself, Miles is shaking.
“It was just a dream,” Richard murmurs as he rubs Miles’s back.
Miles doesn’t look at him, just covers his face in his hands and laughs bitterly. He should be used to this by now. He’s been having the dreams since his eighth birthday. His very own version of the shining, but the funny thing is the crap never gets any easier.
“Nightmare,” he corrects. “A big, fucking nightmare.”
In the darkness, Richard shifts closer. Miles can feel Richard staring at him.
“Tell me about it.”
Miles knows Richard has his own dreams. He also knows Richard’s scared shitless of death, even now. And he knows Richard’s curious about what Miles can do. Sometimes he looks at Miles like he’s in on some big cosmic secret that he’s refusing to share with the rest of the class. He kind of is of course. But it’s the kind of secret Richard’s better off not knowing.
“Just…the island. Smokey. Time travel. The usual. Must be Tuesday, right?”
Richard tugs Miles back towards the pillows, pulls him close to his chest until Miles can’t help but relax a little. At least his teeth have stopped chattering.
“You’re a very good liar, Miles,” Richard says doubtfully, his lips brushing against Miles’s ear.
For a moment, Miles thinks of telling him the truth, of sharing the fear. But Richard’s told him too many stories about Jacob and Miles knows why Richard made the choice he made.
He’s got enough burdens without Miles giving him one more. Besides, he’s better off not knowing until it’s time. It’s a luxury Miles can never have, but he can give this to Richard like a really fucking morbid Christmas gift.
“I try,” Miles says and presses a kiss against Richard’s arm before closing his eyes again.
As he drifts off to sleep, his body gives one final shiver. He knows it’s there waiting for him, it’s waiting for everyone.