Prompt 3: Your favorite pair is caught in a life or death situation where one is fatally wounded and this is their last conversation. Release the feels.
Answer: This is hard because I don't want any of these precious babies to die but I'm going to pick Dave and John. This is heavily based off of an episode of Psych and John the one that's dying. John has just been attacked by the Zulu assholes and though Dave was able to get him out of that situation he didn't get him out in time.
"Is it bad? Is it bad? Oh, God, it's fucking bad."
"No, no, just look at me. Okay, John? Just look at me."
David wasn't lying. It wasn't bad. It was fucking terrible. What had been aired on the news, that girl and her guts falling out of her stomach, was nothing compared to the state John was in. He looked like he had been shoved through a meat grinder.
The flashlight in Dave's hand bobbed around like a fucking torched bat because he was split between trying to salvage what was left of his best friend and the fact that if he got one more look at blood he would die with him. Fuck. Life was too shitty not to have a word for the light draining misery that came from watching the only thing keeping you alive die.
"You're lying, I can see you're lying! You're doing that squint thing. You look like a caveman…I'm dying. I'm dying," John's head lulled from side to side as if that was the only thing he clung onto, the fact that he could still move his neck.
"Shut up, John! I'm trying to..figure out a way out of this fucking place, okay?" Dave spat out far harsher than he intended. The truth was he was trying to figure out how to make the last how ever long his best friend had on Earth mean anything and he was already fucking that up. Shit. He should have been there.
John had only cried three times in front of Dave and each time it amazed him more and more how beautiful he could look while doing it. Words caked in blood, body slashed to ribbons, John didn't deserve to die, "I know you're lying…just tell me. Okay? Just…just give it to me straight."
"Alright," Dave took in a deep breath, focusing the light only on the innocence draining way in John's eyes, "You are…the ugliest piece of shit I've ever seen."
That got a sharp, painful laugh from John that became serious way too fast, "It wasn't your fault, Dave. I was the asshole that didn't listen to you. I went out there when I should ha-"
He couldn't do it any longer. Dave wasn't the hero. Dave couldn't be brave in the face of his own destruction. Ugly man tears came out of him that fell down his cheeks and rolled off of John's cheekbones. He couldn't do it anymore.
In all honesty Dave wanted to kill John himself because he had ONE FUCKING THING TO DO. FOR ONE FUCKING SECOND HE HAD TO JUST SHUT THE FUCK UP AND NOT BE THE HERO. ALL HE HAD TO DO WAS LISTEN TO HIM. FOR ONE FUCKING SECOND. HE TOLD HIM IT WASN'T A REAL KID. HE TOLD HIM EVEN IF IT WAS THE SPIDERS DIDN'T GO AFTER CHILDREN AND SHE WOULD BE FINE. HE FUCKING TOLD HIM IT WAS A LIE. FUUUUCK. And even still with all his rage he knew he couldn't say a fucking thing. In the face of his dying friend how could he think of that? What kind of person did that?
"You're not a monster," John whispered and fuck if that didn't make Dave cry more.
Dave swallowed hard as he shook his head, "But I am."
"Stop," Dave was nearly breathless as he shook his head, his hand reaching over to wipe away the blood smears from his John's face, "I am. Only a monster would wait until now to tell you how I feel about you."
It was impossible to continue. He swore he couldn't let out another word as he gazed up at the darkness around them. But John's voice broke the atmosphere in the only way that he could. Desperately dying and still with a smile and hope in his eyes he ordered, "David…tell me."
"Okay," he nodded once as he shut his eyes, his hands clinging onto John's body as he spoke, "I know it's stupid but my excuse for waiting so long is the prize in cereal boxes. You know those prizes you get? At the bottom? I always thought there are three types of people. There are the ones that open up the bottom and grab the prize. There are the ones that bowl after bowl wait until they finish the box and get to the end. Then there are the ones that eat everything…the cereal, the prize, and the bowl. Well, I always waited. Every time we were alone and…fucking wasted. I always felt the urge to tell you and then I would get scared…fucking terrified and my excuse was that if I waited just a little bit longer the right moment would fall out of the fucking sky and show itself to me. And it fucking didn't…because I was a coward. The truth is I always loved you but I didn't know what that meant until the night you drove drunk and fell asleep in the Drive-Thru. I thought of all the terrible things that could happen and I thought of losing you and I thought of why that really pissed me off so much…and I realized it was because I'm in love with you. Fuck. Fuck! I love you and your massive cock and your fucking beautiful way of thinking and your humor and your…way of dragging me out of my depressions when I know no one else can…Who's gonna do that now, John?"
Dave opened his eyes for a second and immediately his body seized as it grasped John's corpse and held him against his chest as tight as he possibly could.
"Who's gonna do that now?"