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Feb. 1st, 2005 02:28 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
viva-nova.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
nickngregTitle: The Fall
Genre: Mega-angst (get your tissues ready!)
Rating: R (violence, language)
Warnings: Character death
Disclaimer: God help me if I owned them, they'd never leave my house.
A/N: This is unbeta'd... so please excuse any of my wee blunders :) co-written with![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
_slytherin_girl
Dear Mom and Dad
This is the hardest letter I've ever had to write. I'd hope to get out of this quickly, and I hope you don't hate me for it. Is there anything I can say? Will "I'm sorry" make a difference? Will it ease the pain? The shame you must be feeling? Forgive me. Please.
Nick folded the letter and slipped it into the envelope. He sat for a moment, his mind as blank as the next page of his notebook. How had everything turned out so wrong?
***
"Hurry up, Greggo! I know you're just dying to eat." Nick gave Greg and playful squeeze on the bum. Greg turned away from the bathroom mirror and stuck his tongue out. Nick was always amazed at how long it took the younger man to give himself a hairstyle that looked like he'd just rolled out of bed. Which, of course, they had.
"Okay, okay. I'm done. Am I sexy?" Greg struck a pose.
"Is that a trick question?"
"Of course it is. And besides, you love me so you're biased." Nick leaned in and kissed Greg. When was the last time they'd had a night off together? He couldn't remember. Greg's mouth opened under his and their tongues found each other. When the kiss ended, Greg's lips turned up into a smile. "Now I'm ready to go."
***
The image flooded back, horrifying in its clarity. The sound of Greg's voice telling him "Run! Run, I love you." The deafening sound of a gunshot. The pounding of his feet against the pavement as he ran like the chickenshit bastard he was, running from the last moment in Greg's life. Turning, looking back once, one picture burned into his mind: that hair, gold and caramel and haphazard in the sun, stained red in death. Reaching for a gun that wasn't there, to return fire like a good officer should. Finding nothing. And nothing. And nothing.
***
Nick had stopped about two blocks from the restaurant to avoid paying for parking. After dinner, they took a shortcut back to the truck which led them through an alley behind a strip of overpriced dining establishments. Alone and made comfortable by the beer they'd consumed, Greg's hand had naturally slipped into Nick's. He glanced over to catch Greg's profile looking at the ground, his hair honeyed by the late-afternoon sun.
"What the fuck are you fags doing?" The voice was so sudden and intrusive that Nick dropped Greg's hand as if it had burned him. Greg looked around wildly, searching for the voice and finding a gun pointed at him instead. "Gimme your wallet, fag." The hand holding the gun was dirty and jittering. A junkie from the looks of him, but that didn't change the fact that he had a gun. Nick didn't know if Greg was trying to be a hero when he pushed the junkie away and shouted at him.
"Run! I'll be right behind you. Run, I love you." Thinking Greg was right behind him, Nick turned and ran. One gunshot and he looked back to see Greg lying broken on the ground. He groped at his ribs for his own gun and came up empty. Another shot split the air above Nick's left shoulder and he turned and ran again. Reaching his truck, he managed to get it unlocked and started. Nick somehow managed to not get arrested for reckless driving and pulled to a jerky stop in their driveway. Their. They weren't a they anymore, it was just him. He'd left Greg behind like a piece of garbage.
Nick barely got to the bathroom before vomiting until he nearly passed out. When it was finally over, he felt calm, empty. Slowly and deliberately, he gathered what he needed at sat at the kitchen table. Before him were four items: a pen, his notebook, an envelope and his revolver.
Words on paper, paper in envelope. On the front, his parents' names. Finished. Nick closed his eyes and put the gun's barrel to his left eyebrow and
...so much blood for such a tiny little hole.
***
Greg opened his eyes to the sterile white of a hospital room. The side of his head burned and he touched the bandage that covered the wound there.
-Fin-
Genre: Mega-angst (get your tissues ready!)
Rating: R (violence, language)
Warnings: Character death
Disclaimer: God help me if I owned them, they'd never leave my house.
A/N: This is unbeta'd... so please excuse any of my wee blunders :) co-written with
_slytherin_girlDear Mom and Dad
This is the hardest letter I've ever had to write. I'd hope to get out of this quickly, and I hope you don't hate me for it. Is there anything I can say? Will "I'm sorry" make a difference? Will it ease the pain? The shame you must be feeling? Forgive me. Please.
Nick folded the letter and slipped it into the envelope. He sat for a moment, his mind as blank as the next page of his notebook. How had everything turned out so wrong?
***
"Hurry up, Greggo! I know you're just dying to eat." Nick gave Greg and playful squeeze on the bum. Greg turned away from the bathroom mirror and stuck his tongue out. Nick was always amazed at how long it took the younger man to give himself a hairstyle that looked like he'd just rolled out of bed. Which, of course, they had.
"Okay, okay. I'm done. Am I sexy?" Greg struck a pose.
"Is that a trick question?"
"Of course it is. And besides, you love me so you're biased." Nick leaned in and kissed Greg. When was the last time they'd had a night off together? He couldn't remember. Greg's mouth opened under his and their tongues found each other. When the kiss ended, Greg's lips turned up into a smile. "Now I'm ready to go."
***
The image flooded back, horrifying in its clarity. The sound of Greg's voice telling him "Run! Run, I love you." The deafening sound of a gunshot. The pounding of his feet against the pavement as he ran like the chickenshit bastard he was, running from the last moment in Greg's life. Turning, looking back once, one picture burned into his mind: that hair, gold and caramel and haphazard in the sun, stained red in death. Reaching for a gun that wasn't there, to return fire like a good officer should. Finding nothing. And nothing. And nothing.
***
Nick had stopped about two blocks from the restaurant to avoid paying for parking. After dinner, they took a shortcut back to the truck which led them through an alley behind a strip of overpriced dining establishments. Alone and made comfortable by the beer they'd consumed, Greg's hand had naturally slipped into Nick's. He glanced over to catch Greg's profile looking at the ground, his hair honeyed by the late-afternoon sun.
"What the fuck are you fags doing?" The voice was so sudden and intrusive that Nick dropped Greg's hand as if it had burned him. Greg looked around wildly, searching for the voice and finding a gun pointed at him instead. "Gimme your wallet, fag." The hand holding the gun was dirty and jittering. A junkie from the looks of him, but that didn't change the fact that he had a gun. Nick didn't know if Greg was trying to be a hero when he pushed the junkie away and shouted at him.
"Run! I'll be right behind you. Run, I love you." Thinking Greg was right behind him, Nick turned and ran. One gunshot and he looked back to see Greg lying broken on the ground. He groped at his ribs for his own gun and came up empty. Another shot split the air above Nick's left shoulder and he turned and ran again. Reaching his truck, he managed to get it unlocked and started. Nick somehow managed to not get arrested for reckless driving and pulled to a jerky stop in their driveway. Their. They weren't a they anymore, it was just him. He'd left Greg behind like a piece of garbage.
Nick barely got to the bathroom before vomiting until he nearly passed out. When it was finally over, he felt calm, empty. Slowly and deliberately, he gathered what he needed at sat at the kitchen table. Before him were four items: a pen, his notebook, an envelope and his revolver.
Words on paper, paper in envelope. On the front, his parents' names. Finished. Nick closed his eyes and put the gun's barrel to his left eyebrow and
...so much blood for such a tiny little hole.
***
Greg opened his eyes to the sterile white of a hospital room. The side of his head burned and he touched the bandage that covered the wound there.
-Fin-
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2005-02-01 09:03 am (UTC)That being said, this made me *gasp* and sit forward so fast I nearly dumped my laptop on the ground.
Great work!
no subject
Date: 2005-02-01 05:12 pm (UTC)My roommate and I are both fic readers, so we laugh and yell at the stories as we read them, and link each other to good stuff that we've found. Come and hang out with us for an evening :D
no subject
Date: 2005-02-01 12:12 pm (UTC)I have a fetish for deathfics, I'm an angstwhore from the get go. (you reading my mind again, woman?)
Finished.
Love it. Love it.
no subject
Date: 2005-02-01 05:03 pm (UTC)I can smell your juicy brains.
They smell like Nick's closet.
no subject
Date: 2005-02-01 12:56 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-02-01 04:53 pm (UTC)If any more of my angstfics turn out like this, then I'll feed you as often as I can :)
no subject
Date: 2005-02-01 08:15 pm (UTC)Okay, hum hum, I stay hungry for you :D
no subject
Date: 2005-02-01 01:43 pm (UTC)Oh, Nicky, you should've at least waited to see if the guy was actually dead.
and
God, you break my wee little heart, you know that? Still loved this, though.
no subject
Date: 2005-02-01 05:00 pm (UTC)I'm so so so glad you liked it :)
no subject
Date: 2005-02-01 07:18 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-02-01 05:56 pm (UTC)I just. GASP.
Amazing.
Can I friend you?
no subject
Date: 2005-02-01 05:57 pm (UTC)And yes, please do! I'll friend you back :)
no subject
Date: 2005-02-01 09:22 pm (UTC)That was amazing.
no subject
Date: 2005-02-02 04:05 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-02-02 03:11 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-02-01 10:52 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-02-02 04:06 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-02-02 05:59 am (UTC)I'll probably write more angst, but I don't know if I'll be able to do another deathfic - as easy as the story itself was to write, it was really difficult to articulate the feeling that Nick was having.
More angst for you, my darling!
no subject
Date: 2008-08-10 10:29 pm (UTC)