The Great Book of One-Shots

Derp (Part 2)

And the angst continues here!

Btw, still looking for comments on whether or not to do smut~~

Enjoy ^-^

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Tears immediately started pouring down Ian's face when he saw the purple-haired boy laying on the floor, unmoving, and surrounded in blood. His heart broke instantly as three words ran through his head. I killed him.

Ian scooped up his supposedly dead lover and hugged him close as he let out loud, hideous sobs. He had killed him with his own hands. It wasn't his actions, but he had still been used to kill the one he loved and cared about the most. Ian was devastated. He was heartbroken. He was afraid - afraid of himself for what his hands had done. He kept crying. Only one thought that ran through his head: I killed him.

I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him. That was all Ian could think of. Ben's limp body was in his arms and the poor boy's blood was everywhere, what else could he think of?

Once Ian's tears started to fade and he regained control over himself, he laid Ben's body down and sadly smiled. He pushed purple hair out of the smaller boy's eyes and let out a shaky sigh. He would miss him. Hell, he already missed him.

Ian stared at Ben's body, focusing on each individual wound and taking in the sight. He knew that he would just have to accept that this was reality. He knew that his perfect little lover was gone and that it was all his fault. He knew that Ben could of easily escaped and saved himself but, he loved Ian too much to even do that.

He hated that Ben wouldn't hurt him. He hated that Ben thought that way.

No, he could never hate anything about Ben. He loved all of him - even the things he disagreed with. Ian just wished more than anything that Ben would of fought back this one time. Like he had told the smaller boy to do countless times, only for him to ignore the warning with a smile and tell Ian the same line each time, "But I love you too much," before reaching up and kissing the other. A kiss that the American would miss. A man that Ian would miss even more.

Ian closed his eyes and focused on breathing; he needed to calm down. He felt himself relax a bit and stopped shaking as badly. He would have to accept this. This was reality. There wasn't going to be some life-restoring miracle.

Ian opened his eyes and looked back at the Danish boy. He furrowed his eyebrows at what he saw. This couldn't be right. He had to be seeing things. This couldn't be real... could it?

Ian tried to stay perfectly still as he stared at his lover's mangled, yet still perfect body. There it was again. He hadn't just imagined it after all. He watched Ben's chest slowly rise and fall again. A desperate smile spread across Ian's face. A new hope and joy filled him as he quickly grabbed Ben's wrist. There was a faint pulse. He was alive. He was alive and that was all that mattered.

Ian carefully picked Ben up and laid him on their bed, not caring that it would be stained with his lover's blood. He quickly, with trembling hands, stripped Ben to see the extent of his wounds. His very bruised body was covered in scars and cuts, some of which were scabbed over and obviously from previous beatings.

Ian ran into their bathroom and retrieved the first aid kit. He pulled out a bunch of bandages and gauze and began to wrap up Ben's worst wounds. In the end, his arms, legs, and torso ended up being covered.

The older stared down at his poor, unconscious boyfriend and could only feel heartbreak. He was sure some of the cuts would require stitches. Especially the the big cut on his back and the one that went from his right ear down his jawline and to his chin.

Ian sighed. This was all his fault. His hands had caused all this damage. He knew that Ben hated when he blamed himself but, really, who else was there to blame? He anxiously held Ben's hand as a thousand thoughts ran through his head.

What happens next? Should I call 911? But Ben hates hospitals. But Ben's dying. But he wouldn't like it. But he needs it. What if it's already too late to get him help? What if his breathing gets slower? What if he stops breathing? What if he never wakes up? What if he's like this forever? What if he dies? What if I have to plan a funeral for someone younger than me. Someone so much better than me. Someone so pure and perfect. What if I have to tell our fans? What if I have to tell millions of people, mostly children, that Crainer is gone? That he's never coming back? That he died? What would they do? What would they say? They'd want to know why. They'd want to know how Crainer died. What would I tell them? I did it? I killed him? That would only make things worse.

Ian felt movement and looked up in time to see Ben shift a bit and let out a groan.

"Ben?!" Ian's voice was a mix of happiness, fear, and excitement.

"Ian? Are you...you?"

"Yes, Ben, and I'm so, so, so sorry for doing this to you. I couldn't control myself. Trust me, I would never of hurt you if I could." Ian was already on the verge of tears.

"I kn-know it wasn't you... You l-love me... You'd never d-do that to... m-me..." Ben sounded so weak that his voice alone was enough to break Ian's heart.

"Can I take you to the hospital? I know you hate them, but you need better care than I can give you. Please, Benny."

"I-if you think I need it...th-then go ah-head..."

Ian felt some of his fear wash away, "Okay, baby. I'll make sure your okay. You'll be okay." He brushed curly hair out of the smaller's face and pressed a kiss to his lips. "You'll definitely be okay." The reassurance was more for himself than for Ben.

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1037 words!

Requests always open!

~Angel ^-^