Work Text:
I think back to when…
Life was good, I was content.
Ethan would always remember how things were for him back then.
Sure, his childhood wasn’t exactly the best. His parents’ deaths, Laura’s disease, Mason kicking him out… yeah, all of those things were bad. But he wasn’t able to say he wasn’t happy. Because even with all he had gone through, he was still able to feel joy, to feel contentment.
He had Michael and Maddison, he had Neil, he had Aaron and Nina, Alex… who could ask for more?
*
“Here you go,” Ethan said softly, handing Alex a sandwich.
Alex looked at him with those big big powder-blue eyes, before grabbing the sandwich and taking a small, almost shy bite that Ethan found unnecessarily endearing.
He lit up a cigarette and took a drag, making sure he didn’t smoke on Alex by looking to the side. He watched him from the corner of his eye, noting the frustrated little huffs he let out when hair got into his face. Cute.
“Do you want a hair tie?” He asked, letting his own hair down to offer him his hair tie. Alex shook his head subtly.
“They damage my hair,” Alex replied, voice so quiet it was barely above a whisper.
Ethan couldn’t help but smile a bit, holding back a small chuckle. “So, you would rather have hair getting into your face than tying it?”
“Yes.”
At that, Ethan laughed, shaking his head fondly. The boy was so stubborn, and it was so cute. Ethan wanted to bite him and squish his lil cheeks.
“Okay,” he said softly. “How about I braid your hair? That’s a protective hairstyle.”
Alex paused mid-bite, blinking slowly at the officer, before shrugging. “Uhm, yeah, sure.”
So, Ethan ended up braiding Alex’s hair. And the next day, too. And the next… It became like a routine for both of them. It lasted for quite a while, until Alex got out of jail.
Oh, and until he started despising Ethan.
He would never admit it, because of course he wouldn’t, but he missed that. Some people would probably think he was crazy if he said braiding Alex’s hair was his favorite part of the day. He never really understood why, either. But it somehow calmed him down. Making the simple but beautiful pattern was something that made him… forget about everything, even if it was just for a brief moment.
If he closed his eyes, he could still remember how soft and silky it was, even though it had almost been ten years after that. He could still remember the velvetiness. He sometimes thought he was running his fingers through a cottony cloud. Like he was touching a fluffy little cotton ball. But nope. Alex’s hair was just that majestic, delicate, and smooth.
Still, he felt a bit stupid for feeling a small pang on his chest when Alex cut it off.
But it’s been so many years…
I can’t remember how it feels.
Ethan stared at the ceiling, closing his eyes to try and stop the flood of tears from escaping.
["I never felt this way…"]
“Bullshit!” He bawled, throwing a punch to the innocent mattress. He gasped for air, each sob making his shoulders shake violently.
He tried to calm down, really, really did. Deep breaths. Just like he did with Madison and Michael. But, God, he really couldn’t. It was ridiculous. He was ridiculous. He couldn’t do it, couldn’t take it anymore.
Because, damn it, he had been fooled, used. He had protected a man who had killed hundreds of people, ruined hundreds of families. Families like his.
["What would I do if something happened to you?"]
A choked sob slipped from Ethan’s lips, the once comforting words echoing in his head. He could remember Christian’s understanding, sad smile when he punched him. And, even though both of them were aware it was warranted, Ethan couldn’t help but feel guilty. Guilty, for punching the man that destroyed so many lives in the blink of an eye. Guilty, for laying a finger on the man who ruined him so much to the point his younger self would’ve looked at him in pity. Guilty, for hurting the man who promised to protect him from danger, when all along, the only danger was himself.
He buried his face into his pillow, tears falling down his cheeks and dampening his pillowcase. God, when was the last time he cried like this? He couldn’t even remember it.
Because he never cried. Years of bottling everything up out of anxiety and fear of being abandoned—and Mason’s beatings whenever he even hinted to be upset, because men shouldn’t cry—had taught him to hold everything back, pretend it wasn’t there until it vanished over time.
But now, here he was. Weeping like a kid, sobs shaking his entire frame as he struggled to catch his breath.
Once the hysterical bawling passed, he stood up and walked to the bathroom, barely recognizing his reflection in the mirror. Eyes red and puffy, cheeks and lashes wet from tears, and so fucking tired.
Dear lord… What had Christian turned him into?
I reach for me, but I’m not there.
It’s so lonely, but who cares?
Ethan missed the old times.
It might sound selfish, but he did. He missed having Neil by his side, being his pride and joy. Missed braiding Alex’s hair. Missed how Michael’s braces would show whenever he smiled.
He missed everything. He lost everything.
He could never get any of those things back, not after ruining everything… with six little words.
“I am Dean… Always have been.”
Ethan clenched his fists. He still couldn’t believe it. A whole decade of effort, hard work, gaining people’s trust and admiration… all of that, gone.
It had taken him so many years to get everything he achieved, only to throw it away in less than five seconds.
All of that, because of one man. One man that hurt him so much…
And yet, a man who he wasn’t able to let go of.
“Christian, come right back.”
Ethan regretted typing those words as soon as he sent the message, but Christian read them before he could delete it. He muttered a curse. There was no going back now.
His grip on his gun tightened. He looked down at it.
One bullet. That was all it would take. One bullet, and he’d be free. One shot in the head, and he wouldn’t feel pain anymore. He’d be at peace. He’d be happy.
Because, if he was being honest… What did he have left? His nephew died. His boyfriend used him. His niece sided with him, sided with the same man who had made him go through so much pain. The man that had caused this.
Would she be happy if he disappeared? Would she even care? Ethan didn’t know which was worse, which he preferred.
She probably wouldn’t even be bothered by it. Their last interaction had proved it.
[“And maybe if you were there for me when my alcoholic father was making my life miserable, I would never have to ask a murderer for a place to stay.”]
Ethan’s breath hitched. She was right. He knew. They both knew. He had never been there for her. Not after Michael died. Not when Mason started targeting her. Not when she started questioning if she should follow Michael’s path.
If he disappeared, it wouldn’t make a difference. He had already failed her. He had never showed her any type of support, never tried to keep her safe from the harm Mason would cause.
He slowly raised his gun, bringing it to his temple.
Do it.
Pull the trigger.
No one will care.
No one will miss you.
She’ll leave and move on, just like everyone else did.
But—
“Ethan!”
Ethan flinched, dropping the gun. The sound of it hitting the floor made his breath hitch.
Christian ran to him, and slapped him across the face. Ethan’s head jerked to the side from the impact, cheek stinging under his hand.
“What the fuck were you thinking? Are you insane?” Christian shouted, wide palms buying purchase on his shoulders and shaking him as he spoke.
Ethan couldn’t bear to look at his concerned expression, staring at the floor instead as heat rose up his neck in shame.
Christian’s grip softened, thumbs gently rubbing his shoulders into what Ethan thought was an attempt to comfort him.
“Come on, I’ll take you home,” he said softly, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “And I’m staying with you, okay? No buts.”
Ethan sighed, not knowing whether to be reassured or bothered by his words.
He didn’t even care anymore.
It’s fine, it’s okay.
I’ll die anyway.
Ethan stared at the pool of dark velvet that was his room, darkness wrapping its arms around him in a cold, but warm embrace.
Funny. When he was a kid, he was scared of darkness (Well, not of the darkness itself, but what could be there). And now, here he was, laying in bed and looking up at the ceiling, letting the shadows pull him close.
His eyes flicked to the razor peacefully resting on his nightstand, moonlight making the blade shine and flicker oh so temptingly. While the desire had always been there, awaiting, lingering, he had never done anything to fulfill it. Just the thought of someone hurting themselves so cruelly dizzied him.
But, even with that reaction, he couldn't help but imagine how it would feel to have the blade tearing his pale skin and scarlet dripping down his wrists, colours contrasting so beautifully.
Instead of looking away and shutting down the thought, like he would have done before, he sat up, bedframe creaking in protest at the unexpected movement. He reached out, fingers wrapping around the cold plastic as he slowly raised the small object.
Funny, how something so tiny could cause so much damage, and yet fulfill his biggest desire at the moment.
*
“Morning, ex-cop,” Alex greeted him as he walked into the living room. Ethan took a sip of his coffee, forcing the corners of his lips to twitch upwards.
“Morning,” he replied, voice so small and meek it was barely audible. Alex paused, freezing momentarily before glancing back at him.
“... You feeling okay?” He asked suddenly. Ethan blinked, taken aback. Heat rose up his neck and towards his face. Fuck. No.
“Uh, yeah, why?” He responded. Quickly. Maybe a bit too quickly. He hoped Alex wouldn’t notice that, even though it was nearly impossible with how good he was at reading him, sometimes.
Alex squinted at him slightly, placing his own cup of coffee on the table, the sound echoing through the room and breaking the brief but tense silence.
“You sure? You sound a bit… off. You look very tired, too.” He noted, crossing his arms over his chest.
Ethan couldn't help but feel a bit cornered. Looking away from him and stepping back to create a distance. “It’s nothing. Really.”
Alex raised an elegant eyebrow. “Nothing? You look exhausted. Even more than you usually do.”
“Gee. Thanks. You’re so kind.”
Alex’s lips twitched upwards briefly, before his expression turned serious again. “Stop changing the subject. Are you sure you’re alright?”
Ethan stiffened. He glanced at Alex and instantly regretted it. Because when he did, he noticed that both of them knew he wouldn’t be able to escape this one. No more changing the subject, no more vague answers. Just a “yes” or “no” response.
“Yes,” he lied. “I just… didn’t sleep well last night. That’s all.”
Alex stared at him in silence for a while, and Ethan held back the urge to curl himself up into a little ball and make himself as small as possible. He knew he was lying, Ethan could tell. Alex wasn’t stupid. He knew Ethan. Not to mention, he had gone through the same thing. The same pain. The same suffering.
However, instead of being mad at him, for lying, for not opening up to him, he looked… disappointed. And it still hurt. But there was also a hint of understanding in those powder-blue eyes.
“Okay,” Alex said slowly, walking to him. “If you need anything, I’m here. Okay? Don’t forget it. Don’t you forget it. Got it, bug?”
Alex poked Ethan’s cheek playfully, and he couldn’t help the small little smile that spread across his lips. Even if his tone was playful, Ethan could tell Alex was being serious. Still, he appreciated his effort to lighten up the mood.
“Yeah, yeah. Got it,” he light heartedly smacked his hand away, then added quietly, “thank you.”
Alex’s expression softened, with something almost like affection. “Of course.” He murmured, booping Ethan’s nose, before Ethan walked to his room.
*
Ethan let out a shuddering breath, his whole body trembling even though he was completely covered by the blankets and wearing an oversized hoodie.
His shoulders shook ever-so slightly as he sniffled, soft and quiet sobs slipping past his lips.
He reached out towards the nightstand, where his razor rested.
[“If you need anything, I’m here.”]
“If you ever need me, I’ll be here,” Christian murmured, perfect and soft lips brushing against Ethan’s as he spoke. Before Ethan could even utter a response, Christian propped himself up, each hand at each side of his head.
“Please, darling. Promise me you won’t try it again. You scared me,” he whispered, tears welling up in those gorgeous eyes, Ethan’s heart broke a little at the sight.
“I know, and I’m sorry,” he mumbled, unable to meet his gaze. Christian cupped his cheek, touch so, so gentle as he coaxed him into making eye contact.
“Don’t apologize. Just… promise me,” Christian repeated softly. Ethan took a deep breath.
“... Promise,” he whispered back, even though he wasn’t sure he was going to keep it. Because, God, everything hurt so much. Even having Christian here, right in front of him, made his chest ache. Everything was too much. And he couldn’t do anything. Couldn’t hide. Couldn’t try to make it stop.
Because Christian would keep him from doing it.
It was too much. Too much. Too much. He wanted it to stop. He didn’t want to feel. He didn’t want to feel anything.
People always said, “why live, if you can’t feel?”, but people who said that, Ethan realized, had the luxury of being happy. Of not being in a war. Of not having to see corpses daily, corpses of their friends, their family. They didn’t date the serial killer they were investigating. They weren’t used, manipulated nor abused. Their niece didn’t defend the man that hurt him so much. They weren’t abandoned multiple times, either.
If they were in his same situation, they would wish the same thing.
“Good. Because I couldn’t bear to lose you too, darling, I love you too much,” Christian’s soothing voice cut through his thoughts, saving him from the anxiety attack he was about to have. What would he do without him? “And I care about you, so much, alright?”
“Alright…” Ethan’s voice was quiet, so unlike his usual stoic one.
Christian nodded, pity and affection swirling in his brown-and-gray eyes, before he leaned down and pressed his lips to his.
Ethan reached towards where his razor rested, when suddenly, the sound of someone knocking on the door echoed through his room. He jolted, curling up into a ball and covering himself with the blanket. He usually slept like that—or on his stomach—, so whoever was standing at the doorframe might believe he’s asleep.
“Ethan?” Alex asked softly. Fuck. Alex. Ethan thought. Not him. Anyone but him.
Ethan tensed up under the blankets, not moving a muscle. Maybe if he stayed still, quiet… he would leave. Leave him alone. Walk away. Just let him suffer and drown in the mess he had caused—
No. The mess Christian had caused. The mess he forced himself to fix.
Still his fault, nevertheless.
“I know you’re not asleep,” Alex spoke quietly. He knelt down next to the bed, placing a hand on the mattress and bringing it close to Ethan’s. Ethan stared at it, before slowly, almost hesitantly, grabbing his hand.
He heard Alex sigh, almost in relief. His thumb started to gently rub circles on Ethan’s skin, and Ethan couldn’t help but relax into the touch.
Alex slowly lifted the blanket, and Ethan started tearing up the mere second his eyes met Alex’s powder blue ones.
“There you are…” He murmured, his thumb sluggishly trailing up. Ethan stiffened just slightly, so faintly he was sure Alex didn’t notice.
“Can you come out for a sec?” Alex asked quietly. Ethan hesitated. Alex had already seen him cry, anyway. What was the point in hiding anymore? Even if he left now, he would still know just how much of a mess he was.
So, he nodded. Alex’s fingers wrapped around his wrist, and delicately tried to get him out of bed, like he was a cat. And Ethan would’ve found it cute. Would’ve.
But then, he winced. And his heart dropped to his ass.
Alex let go quickly, like he had been burned, and stared at Ethan’s wrist, then back at Ethan. Then at his wrist. Then at Ethan. The silence was loud. Tense. Ethan’s heart hammered against his ribs, pounding in his ears so loudly he was convinced Alex could hear it.
“Ethan…” Alex’s voice was still quiet, but Ethan noted a hint of firmness in it. And, fuck, that scared him. Alex was going to be mad. Because he was keeping him from danger, from harm. And then, Ethan was harming himself. Ridiculous, really. He was gonna leave eventually, again, Ethan thought. Nothing lasted forever. And Alex’s company didn’t, either.
“... Why?” He asked. And Ethan blinked, taken aback. No “show me your wrists”, no “are you insane?”, no nothing. Just… Why?
“I…” Ethan swallowed. “It’s just— everything is just too much. I can’t, Alex. I can’t— I had never done it before, until now. I did think about it, always. I don’t know. But, everything is just too much sometimes. I can’t take it, I—” he let out a shuddering breath. He was losing his composure, he was falling apart. This wasn’t how he was supposed to act. He should suffer, bottle the pain up, and wait until it magically vanished. Until he got used to the pain.
But he really, really couldn’t take it anymore. He needed it, really did. He needed to talk to someone, to be vulnerable for once—
“It hurts, it hurts…” he sobbed, eyes fluttering shut as tears streamed down his cheeks. “Everything hurts. I can’t take it, Alex, I can’t— I’m horrible, Maddie probably wouldn’t even care if I killed myself tomorrow. And even if I don’t, she’ll leave me soon, just like I did after Michael died. I failed her, I failed everyone. I failed myself. I can’t, Alex. I can’t—”
Before he could say anything else, Alex pulled him close. Strong, scarred arms wrapped around his smaller frame and pulled him into a warm, soothing embrace. Ethan buried his face in the crook of his neck, taking a deep breath and taking in his scent. He tried to focus on that to ground himself. Alex’s scent. It was sweet. So, so sweet. A mix between vanilla and marshmallow. The extremely sugared smell usually would’ve given him a migraine, but Alex was… different. He couldn’t tell, but something about it was comforting. He took deep breaths, drowning in the saccharine scent. Because, God, he smelled so nice, so good…
“Better?” Alex asked, and that’s when Ethan realized he had calmed down. His cheeks were wet with tears, and he still had subtle hiccups from crying, but he was… fine.
“Yeah,” he mumbled, pulling away to glance up at him. “... Thank you.”
Alex’s expression softened. He leaned in, pressing his lips on Ethan’s cheek, specifically on top of his beauty mark, and Ethan melted.
“Of course,” Alex murmured. Then, his gaze flicked to the nightstand. Ethan watched as he reached out, grabbing the razor resting on it. “I’ll probably take this, though.”
Ethan’s lips twitched upward. “Yeah, probably for the best.” He replied. He closed his eyes for a moment, focusing on how right it felt to be in his arms, before looking up at him again. “Do you mind holding me a bit longer?”
Alex pressed a kiss on his other beauty mark, which was on his forehead, before laying down in bed, draping the blanket over themselves.
“Of course not,” he whispered. “Sleep, bug. I got you.”
Ethan smiled at the nickname, and Alex gently squished him in response. Ethan let out a tiny sigh through his nose, eyes fluttering shut in contentment as he finally drifted off.