In the End

Zero Hour

He does not need to look long. He knows where Andy is. It has never made sense to him, but he has always found the boy- now man, he supposes. It has always been convenient. The same as a scent is to a dog, Andy is easy for him to find, with a little sniffing.

Tiffany had called it something else, but he does not want to think about it. He can only think of the fact that Andy is long due his time to return to the apartment, and this piques his curiosity. His mind is distracted with the idea that for the past week or so, Andy Barclay has not been coming home when he usually would, and it perturbs him. He feels his pulse racing just a little more now as he comes to his conclusions as to where Andy could be.

It isn't as if they have made any progress. Other than Chucky antagonizing Andy to the best of his abilities and Andy simply ignoring every attempt as if he didn't exist, nothing has occurred. Chucky has had ample opportunities to lift the blade and carve into Andy's sleeping and seemingly lifeless body. He has been there too, with his hand poised and his aim ready.

He just could never stop his hand from shaking.

It's the fact that Andy wants to give his life away. That is what stops him. It is the fact that he looks down and sees Andy so peaceful, and those cannot be his final moments before death. He wants Andy to fight for it- oh, how he wants him to fight for it!

It is the sickening fact that he looks down and sees Andy's red angry lines, the artistry of his self-mutilation, and he can't seem to bring himself to add any more.

The nausea is back, and it is stronger than usual. Chucky has never felt so vulnerably human, and this only makes the nausea worse. He claws at his stomach through the rough jean of his clothing uselessly. He knows it will not go away.

He has to find Andy, and he has to kill him. He has to make Andy want to live again, first and foremost, but ultimately he has to kill him. It is why they run into each other over and over again, he knows. It is because fate draws them back again and again until he can finally finish his task, and move on.

He ignores the subtle and sudden way everything seems so hollow, so destitute, and leaves the apartment behind, only for a fraction wondering if Andy will be home soon and if he should wait instead. Only for a fraction wondering if he should even go after Andy at all.

He does have an idea where Andy is, and he is not surprised when he sees Andy embracing Brett just next to a parking meter downtown. He is not surprised to see Andy's arms embrace someone so tightly and with so much need. He knows that Andy can love like this, fully and with a tender intensity. He remembers. He was once the object of Andy's affection, even if it was Andy as a child, and not as the adult he is now.

He cannot ignore the nausea now, it crawls up behind his ribs and into his lungs, threatening to make him implode.

This is worse than the time he saw Andy kissing Kristen. He does not know what is worse, Andy feeling nothing or Andy feeling happy. He watches Andy, watches the way this boy – now man – stands along the road, his back turned to him, and he cannot begin to fathom why, but he wants Andy to turn around more than ever.

More than ever, he wants to fight Andy Barclay. He wants to push him into the dirt and smash his face against the gravel until he bleeds. He wants it so intensely that when Andy does not do this, and instead walks away, possibly towards home at last, he has to bite into his hand to stop himself from screaming.

Andy Barclay is only miserable when he is with him, and so, more than ever, he wants Andy Barclay to be miserable. He wants him to be miserable and distraught for the rest of his pitiful life.