sixwordstories | (no subject)

What's wrong, Anson? Why do you look so sad?

*slips his arms around him and holds him tight*

Just...

Just got to thinking about James. The boy that died at my place.

Oh.

*rests his head on Anson's shoulder and frowns*

It was my fault. He was just a kid. I should've...

*holds on tighter*

I just wish I'd done things differently. I wish I'd known.

It was not your fault. He was an asshole.

*lifts his head and looks up at him*

Arthur...

You shouldn't say things like that.

*closes his eyes and snuggles into Anson's shoulder* He was. What he did to you is horrible. If he wanted to kill himself, he should have done it alone. He did it to hurt you.

*silent for a long moment, one hand clutching at Arthur's shirt*

I used to see him sometimes, after. I forgave him. And he forgave me.

So...so why does it still hurt?

*swallows hard*

If I'd just left him alone. If I hadn't taken his drugs away. If I hadn't been trying so hard to be a hero...

*shakes his head against Arthur's shoulder*

He needed help. He needed help and I yelled at him and I scared him and I made him think he didn't have any options left. I was stupid. So stupid.

*takes Anson's hand and kisses it*

It is not your fault, Anson. You did your very best. You did what any decent person would do.

*closes his eyes as Arthur presses his lips against his palm...then raises his head, cupping Arthur's cheek, tears in his eyes as he kisses him gently*

Beautiful boy...

*rests his head on Arthur's shoulder again*

I love you, mon petit renard. You make all the bad things go away.

*squeezes him gently*

I want to. I want you to stop hurting.

*reaches up and strokes Arthur's hair, holding to him tightly, his love, his everything*

I think...I think he is at peace now. The last time I saw him, he looked...

Maybe now I can be, too.

*kisses the top of his head, then his temple, then his cheek, then his lips*

Yes, Anson. Let it go.

*smiles and closes his eyes, resting his forehead against Arthur's*

Yeah.

*smiles at him sadly*

I don't know. Just think about you sometimes. Kind of...what-ifing, I guess. I know I shouldn't but I just can't stop, you know?

Like...what if I'd called the cops when I found you? What if I hadn't taken your stash away? What if I'd quit fucking reacting instead of thinking and actually helped you instead of making things worse? What if I hadn't scared you so bad you felt like you didn't have any other options?

*looks at him, blinking back tears*

What if I'd held you tighter. What if I'd been a little faster.

I just wish...I just wish you never met me. 'Cause maybe if you didn't, you'd still be here. You'd still have a chance, James. But now...you never will.

And it's my fault.

Anson looks at him for a long moment, his eyes brimming with tears.

"You are at peace," he whispers.

He nods, accepting.

"This is goodbye, isn't it?" he says with a sad smile. "I'm not going to see you anymore."

Anson nods, a tear slipping down his cheek.

"Okay," he whispers. "Okay."

He looks into James's eyes and smiles.

And finally lets go.