Scp shots! (CLOSED)

Leave me your wake (More clefdraki angst)

Wow! I was not expecting to finish this tonight in one sitting but here we are! I guess forcing myself to write really is getting me to be productive! Really proud of this one, made me almost cry (Which is very rare for me)

Anyways, here you go Snugly_Wolfy , more angst as you desired.

Title inspired by the song "Boats and Birds" by Gregory and the Hawk

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The door shuddered closed, a sound nigh imperceivable against the storm outside hitting the windows. For a moment, Benjamin Kondraki stood in the miniature hallway separating the entrance and living room of the apartment. He was soaked to the marrow of his bones, the rain having burrowed cold into his normally warm core. Ben peeled his jacket and hat off, not caring that a small puddle was forming beneath him. His shoes and socks came next, feeling like they'd been pulled from a river. His feet touched the wood, and Ben was almost convinced that he'd walked into someone else's home. Like he'd stepped into some sad, empty, mirror universe.

But Ben knew he hadn't. This was his apartment and his alone.

The thought made his head swim, vision fuzzing at the edges. An ache danced up his throat and beat against his sternum, simultaneously, dry, tight, hard, and painful as he willed away a sob. His mental health had hit rock bottom in the past few weeks. He hadn't been able to pull himself out of the sinkhole of his depression to even brush his teeth most days. 408 had always come to the apartment on a regular basis but they clung to him even closer since the incident despite the damage the swarm had taken. Adams had tried to come over too, but Ben couldn't bear to think of anything even related to Alto at this point.

No one was sure how he'd fare at a funeral, so, to both his relief and anguish, it was postponed until further notice.

Ben looked up, having realized he'd 'wandered off again' as Alto would call it. He trudged into the apartment taking notice of the thin layer of dust that had begun to coat the furniture from disuse. At least the apartment wasn't full of trash. Alto would've thrown a fit.

Would've. Ben lingered on the word. Everything about his husband was now in the past, wasn't it? His voice. His smile. His soul. His very impact on the world. All nothing more than a memory that would eventually simmer away as the world moved on and forgot him. Ben's heart ached. He never wanted to forget, even if the world did.

Ben blinked back to reality. His eyes edged to the clock hanging on the wall. A digital one Alto had bought since he kept forgetting how to read analog. Ten minutes had passed since he'd come home. Ben found himself lingering in the doorway to their bedroom. His bedroom now.

It was just like the rest of the house, clean yet untouched, with the exception of his side of the bed. Ben floated in. He stripped his clothes away, dried, and put on new ones before flopping down on his side. He couldn't bear to linger in the empty space where Alto always was. Where he should've been.

It took a few days for the emptiness to really set in. For Ben to realize that Alto was gone. He was really gone. That the space Alto filled would never be full again. They were nothing more than flickering husks of themselves that lingered in Ben's mind. His object permanence had never been perfect with ADHD and the like, but once he felt those husks, that yawning emptiness, anguish threatened to swallow him whole.

He was sitting up. Ben didn't remember doing so but then again, he didn't remember most things as of late. His eyes tugged to the closet, which hadn't been touched since the day Alto had left.

Ben got up heavy, as if chains strung him to the bed. Something stronger pulled him to the closet. He opened the door, barely recognizing the action as his own, and starred in as the automatic light blinded him. As his vision returned, Alto's shirts came into view. All shades of disgusting and horrendous, annoying and headache inducing. Ben wanted nothing more than to hold the man that once filled them.