Dark Fandom/OTP Challenge - DalKenzie Edition (edited)

Death [trigger warning]

A/N: warnings for death and suicide apply here, if you wish to skip this chapter I won't be offended. Still all AU.

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There was a young man who'd been regarded as nothing less than a star due to his prowess on the basketball court; every slam dunk was greeted with applause and victory poses with cheers of his name. That was his plan for life, to have people know his name for his skills; if he couldn't play he might as well just not breathe.

But reality and dreams don't always see eye-to-eye, and after several bouts of pain and dizziness he was diagnosed with a viral infection. The bright and welcoming halls of his high school were replaced with the sterile cream walls of a hospital ward, and workouts replaced by tests and surgeries and an endless stream of medication and donated blood.

Despite all the doctors' efforts his lungs weakened, quickly followed by his heart, and partway through the medically-induced coma in the ventilator that had become his home, he was only vaguely aware of a long and continuous beep that gradually faded away. Just as as he thought that someone should really turn off that alarm he wasn't aware of any sound anymore.

A soft blue and golden light took shape in front of him, male or female he couldn't tell, but it was all the same comforting and trustworthy. Then came a warmth around his body like being wrapped in the familiar blankets of home, which was a nice change of pace from the cold hospital beds, and he was aware of sound again.

It was music, light and beautiful, and seemed to be coming from right within him even though music hadn't really been his things, but hey, he wasn't going to complain if it meant he could be pain-free. Then the applause and calls of his name that he'd almost forgotten what they'd sounded like were ringing in his ears once more. In this dazzling glow of light he was a star again, maybe in a different way than he'd intended but his soul was grateful for.

Reality and dreams may not always agree, but when one's consciousness had crossed the reality line, dreams could do all they wanted for the kindest of souls.

***

Sometime later in another state over, there was an even younger man who was also about to cross the reality line. Through no fault of his own his mind had been plagued by demons and darkness, and for every agonizing year he'd suffered the voices that hissed in his head told him the same things. He was nobody, he'd never amount to anything important, nobody cared about him and never would. Nobody nobody nobody.

All he wanted was for the voices to stop and leave him alone, and one desperate night he figured alternate handfuls of his medication with long pulls from a bottle of vodka would do the trick at last. It tasted awful but he kept going until he passed out along the bathroom tiles, hitting his head on the sink on the way down. Despite his yell of reaction he didn't even register the hurt, only the monsters inside him finally shutting up. His grips on loosened on the bottles and his eyes closed, his last conscious sight being the medication label that spelled the name of a nobody.

They say the afterlife frowns upon the suicide and punishes them for perceived selfishness, but that couldn't be further from the truth. Just like with another young man who had meant no harm and only wanted to do good things, a golden-blue light shimmered before this unfortunate soul and regarded him with comfort and love. He soon felt the warm embrace of a glow and the pain lifting from his body. If it was possible, he could have cried.

A dream began to weave before his eyes, one he never could've imagined and one reality and the harsh voices wouldn't have allowed him to have. In this dream he heard dark and beautiful music coming from his fingers and lips to expunge the monsters, music that reached to endless thousands who struggled against the same voices. He was embraced and praised and loved, and every gentle word he believed and made him feel less alone. He had finally amounted to something even if it was only in this dream world. If 'nobody' cared about him, then these were the 'nobodies'.

Dreams deferred by reality were a devastation upon the heart, but the line crossed meant the rules of reality could go out the eternal window. If your heart was pure then you were worthy to see your dream no matter how fanciful or unexpected as a comfort amongst the long and floating darkness.