[ all of del's fear was extinguished along with the light in his brother's eyes.
he'd never been afraid of most things other kids were afraid of anyway — scary movies, the dark, rattlesnakes, bullies, getting in trouble — because he could never afford to be when he had someone else he had to be strong for. getting passed around from one house to the next where they'd always been treated like someone's obligation, never like family, he'd learned early on that they could only really rely on themselves; if they didn't want to be crushed by the world's indifference toward them, he would have to be the unshakable pillar supporting them both.
that was the one fear he'd never been able to escape — that he'd fuck up and bax would get hurt or lost or worse. that he would buckle under all the weight that never should have been put on the shoulders of a single kid. and that fear was so constant and pervasive that it ate away at him a little more every day; no matter how hard he tried to steel himself, he'd only ever be able to last so long with a slowly eroding foundation. jen and andy had helped fill some of the cracks, but there was only so much they ever could have done. this wasn't their house to fix anyway.
bax is gone, and it no longer matters if the pillar comes crashing down. it's... freeing, even if it's a freedom he never, ever wanted. freedom from the single fear that's worn on him all his life, the freedom to break and let loose with everything he has.
it's not much. he's under no illusion otherwise. he vaguely remembers bill's advice in that moment as he rushes the monster, about using his imagination to fight this thing. maybe this useless nail file could have been a legendary sword fit for the steward of gondor if he'd been able to believe. but boromir was never supposed to outlive faramir. it's better this way.
in a hopeless fight against a monster that must represent fear itself, he feels none; not as it picks him up and toys with him, not as it rips out little pieces of him, not as it slowly and unrelentingly pulls on his hair and he feels every fiber in his neck straining and ready to snap.
in the end, this was where they'd ended up. down in the sewers with the rest of the refuse. with the decaying goldfish people had brought into their homes with fanfare only to give them the bare minimum of what they needed to continue existing until they could dump them out and move on with their lives, free from the burden of being obligated to care. the world always puts you in your proper place one way or another.
that's all right. this world never wanted them, but he doesn't want this world either. his neck finally gives way, and the final thought he has is that at least he won't be another bill. ]
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holyspirits) wrote2025-03-09 04:46 pm
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he'd never been afraid of most things other kids were afraid of anyway — scary movies, the dark, rattlesnakes, bullies, getting in trouble — because he could never afford to be when he had someone else he had to be strong for. getting passed around from one house to the next where they'd always been treated like someone's obligation, never like family, he'd learned early on that they could only really rely on themselves; if they didn't want to be crushed by the world's indifference toward them, he would have to be the unshakable pillar supporting them both.
that was the one fear he'd never been able to escape — that he'd fuck up and bax would get hurt or lost or worse. that he would buckle under all the weight that never should have been put on the shoulders of a single kid. and that fear was so constant and pervasive that it ate away at him a little more every day; no matter how hard he tried to steel himself, he'd only ever be able to last so long with a slowly eroding foundation. jen and andy had helped fill some of the cracks, but there was only so much they ever could have done. this wasn't their house to fix anyway.
bax is gone, and it no longer matters if the pillar comes crashing down. it's... freeing, even if it's a freedom he never, ever wanted. freedom from the single fear that's worn on him all his life, the freedom to break and let loose with everything he has.
it's not much. he's under no illusion otherwise. he vaguely remembers bill's advice in that moment as he rushes the monster, about using his imagination to fight this thing. maybe this useless nail file could have been a legendary sword fit for the steward of gondor if he'd been able to believe. but boromir was never supposed to outlive faramir. it's better this way.
in a hopeless fight against a monster that must represent fear itself, he feels none; not as it picks him up and toys with him, not as it rips out little pieces of him, not as it slowly and unrelentingly pulls on his hair and he feels every fiber in his neck straining and ready to snap.
in the end, this was where they'd ended up. down in the sewers with the rest of the refuse. with the decaying goldfish people had brought into their homes with fanfare only to give them the bare minimum of what they needed to continue existing until they could dump them out and move on with their lives, free from the burden of being obligated to care. the world always puts you in your proper place one way or another.
that's all right. this world never wanted them, but he doesn't want this world either. his neck finally gives way, and the final thought he has is that at least he won't be another bill. ]