ooc ❥ vignette ❥ stained glass
His sword meets resistance; Jack knows it's two of Glen's ribs, so he drives the blade harder, twisting it deeper. There is cold steel cutting through his side, but it's okay.
Everything's okay.
Glen slumps against against his shoulder, when he pulls his sword back. They sink to the floor, and steel clatters against cold marble. (He's still as warm as Jack knows him, even as his hair smells of burnt wood and the metallic tang of blood.) The hatred runs thin in his veins as they do, and somewhere in the back of Jack's mind, regrets accumulate and press painfully warm against the back of his eyes.
(Those are tears.)
"You knew I was after you," he accuses, brushing Glen's hair out of his eyes.
He only laughs, weakly, that laughter that Jack had only ever heard as mocking. Jack wants to hit him. But then he'd die faster, and Jack wanted to savour this as much as he could.
"Of course I did," Glen breathes, fingers curling in Jack's sleeve. "What you do never escapes me."
"You knew I was going to kill you." Jack shifts so that he's cradling Glen's head and shoulders, and his nails dig into the other man's upper arm. He knew. The bastard knew, and wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of victory. he may have even just used Jack.
He seethed at the very thought. Glen had always, always been able to outplay him, in this demented game of chess that they were playing. "You used me!"
"Checkmate," Glen smirks, nestling closer into Jack's shirt, blood smeared on his cheek and nose. "Did I ever say I was going to let you go?"
"You - " Jack started, faltering; warm blood trickled down his side and trousers. He had come to this building prepared to die - on his own terms, he liked to think - exacting revenge on the only man he had ever loved. "Bastard."
"You're...crying."
"Shut up," he snarled. Glen's breathing was starting to become noticeably sluggish. Jack wished he would die sooner - he'd only wanted to be the last thing that Glen saw before dying. So he'd know the pain that he'd put Jack through, that he'd know the extent of his love and obsession. "You failed. She's not coming back, Glen. Lacie is never, ever coming ba - "
"I knew that."
The spiteful words die in Jack's throat, and his tears drop onto Glen's cheek.
Glen raises a hand to wipe them away.
"You were the only one who I trusted could kill me, even if I...lost my sanity," he says, quietly, smile soft and gentle and everything that Jack had wanted. A thin ribbon of blood trickles down his chin. "I wanted - to make sure...I couldn't hurt you any longer."
"You're - you're lying, stop it - "
"Think what you will." Glen turns his head into Jack's chest, and Jack curls up on him, tears that he didn't understand still flowing. "I've lied to you so many times, haven't I...?"
"Glen, don't - don't do this, I can't - "
"I think I loved you."
Jack stills, the world stills, and he can hear nothing but Glen's last words. He feels Glen's fingers spider across his jaw, and he presses them to his skin. "What - "
"No, I...I know I love you, Jack. Somewhere...along...the way - "
"What? Glen - "
But it's too late; the light behind his eyes dim, and the heart that Jack had always wholly given to Glen breaks like stained glass shattering.
Everything's okay.
Glen slumps against against his shoulder, when he pulls his sword back. They sink to the floor, and steel clatters against cold marble. (He's still as warm as Jack knows him, even as his hair smells of burnt wood and the metallic tang of blood.) The hatred runs thin in his veins as they do, and somewhere in the back of Jack's mind, regrets accumulate and press painfully warm against the back of his eyes.
(Those are tears.)
"You knew I was after you," he accuses, brushing Glen's hair out of his eyes.
He only laughs, weakly, that laughter that Jack had only ever heard as mocking. Jack wants to hit him. But then he'd die faster, and Jack wanted to savour this as much as he could.
"Of course I did," Glen breathes, fingers curling in Jack's sleeve. "What you do never escapes me."
"You knew I was going to kill you." Jack shifts so that he's cradling Glen's head and shoulders, and his nails dig into the other man's upper arm. He knew. The bastard knew, and wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of victory. he may have even just used Jack.
He seethed at the very thought. Glen had always, always been able to outplay him, in this demented game of chess that they were playing. "You used me!"
"Checkmate," Glen smirks, nestling closer into Jack's shirt, blood smeared on his cheek and nose. "Did I ever say I was going to let you go?"
"You - " Jack started, faltering; warm blood trickled down his side and trousers. He had come to this building prepared to die - on his own terms, he liked to think - exacting revenge on the only man he had ever loved. "Bastard."
"You're...crying."
"Shut up," he snarled. Glen's breathing was starting to become noticeably sluggish. Jack wished he would die sooner - he'd only wanted to be the last thing that Glen saw before dying. So he'd know the pain that he'd put Jack through, that he'd know the extent of his love and obsession. "You failed. She's not coming back, Glen. Lacie is never, ever coming ba - "
"I knew that."
The spiteful words die in Jack's throat, and his tears drop onto Glen's cheek.
Glen raises a hand to wipe them away.
"You were the only one who I trusted could kill me, even if I...lost my sanity," he says, quietly, smile soft and gentle and everything that Jack had wanted. A thin ribbon of blood trickles down his chin. "I wanted - to make sure...I couldn't hurt you any longer."
"You're - you're lying, stop it - "
"Think what you will." Glen turns his head into Jack's chest, and Jack curls up on him, tears that he didn't understand still flowing. "I've lied to you so many times, haven't I...?"
"Glen, don't - don't do this, I can't - "
"I think I loved you."
Jack stills, the world stills, and he can hear nothing but Glen's last words. He feels Glen's fingers spider across his jaw, and he presses them to his skin. "What - "
"No, I...I know I love you, Jack. Somewhere...along...the way - "
"What? Glen - "
But it's too late; the light behind his eyes dim, and the heart that Jack had always wholly given to Glen breaks like stained glass shattering.