Lionhearts ||Skephalo||

65

Bad could feel the cracks before the others even thought they were there.

The protection he had desperately crafted was beginning to fail, soiled and tainted as Halo sought the faults in it, working his way into the cracks and ripping them wider. The terror didn't end when he died, Bad discovered, because he wasn't dead for long. He wasn't alive either, and it burned, it ached and his bones still felt like hot lead poured into the cast of his body.

So he cried out, he sobbed, he uselessly screamed into the uncaring and still air.

Was this a punishment? What had he done?
And a light began to flicker into being. Despite everything, Bad can't help but be drawn to it, reaching out for the comfort of the soul he knew was on the other side.

Zak.

And he plunged into a dream, freed for a brief time from the prison of his body as it lay there, not dead nor alive, not his and yet still his.

* * *

He presses his cheek to Zak's, laughing softly as the other nuzzles back. The warmth of his soulmate's soft skin against his own was a welcome feeling; ticklish and sweet, a freedom from the painful warmth he had suffered so long.

"You're lost again?" Darryl teases, and Zak glances up, baffled deep brown eyes sliding from Darryl's gaze to their surroundings. A warm forest glade, the flowers around them in full summer bloom.

"Am I?" His tone is soft, his voice hoarse. "I don't feel lost, Dar."

A smile spreads across Darryl's face, and he quickly dares to peck Zak on the cheek, giggling sweetly.

"I guess you wouldn't," he concedes, "But you're not supposed to be here yet."

"Where are we?" Zak looks around again, studying the environment closer as though searching for discrepancies. Darryl shrugs.

"Um...well, the other side. I'm not sure if we're FULLY on the other side, though. Partially? How did you die?" Zak's eyes widen in alarm, and his mouth opens slightly. "No no! I'm teasing, I'm joking," Darryl hurries, realizing his mistake. "You're not dead, don't worry. Neither of us really are."

"Really?" Zak murmurs, questioningly. Darryl nods.

"I'm half dead, I think. But it's okay." He tilts Zak's chin up, a warm smile on his face. "I'm not...gone? I can still see you. You're okay, I'm sure, just a bit shaken. But before you have to go?"

"I have to go?" Zak repeats, dazed as Darryl pulls him closer, treasuring this moment before both are torn back to the cruel realities they came from.

"You will," he murmurs sadly, "And I'll have to, too. But hey, listen here you sweet little muffin." He combs his hand gently through Zak's hair, the hunter leaning into the touch needily. "I love you, okay? You didn't get to hear it the right way, and I'm sorry that you've had to go through all this for my sake. You'll make it, I'm sure."

The warmth of the environment begins to fade, and the last words Darryl hears in this bubble of safety are Zak's desperate,

"Wait! I love you too, don't go! Don't leave me again!"

Darryl's sweet smile is apologetic as the dream world collapses into black sand, the stench of blood in the air as Zak flounders in the deepening sand.

* * *

Skeppy is only half aware of the strangled sob that tears itself free of him as he wakes up, and doesn't notice the steady stream of tears on his cheeks.