That court fic…Now almost 7000 words long and the end is still a way off ::headdesk:: Have another snippet 😀 Many thanks to both @i-am-chidorixblossom and @scribbles97 for the reality checks and their wonderful support at various stages of this.
“Would rather die.”
The words were barely there, whispered, slurred into the pillow, but they leapt up and tore at Scott’s heart.
“Virgil, no.” He levered himself up onto his elbow, wishing his brother wasn’t turned away from him, wasn’t hidden by the darkness.
Damnit! He sat up, reached over and flicked the light switch, flooding the room with its yellow glow.
“Aah, what the hell, Scott?” His brother lifted up his wrapped arm and rolled onto his back, wincing. “Whatcha do tha’ for?” He blinked repeatedly, tired eyes in a tired, bruised face.
“You can’t mean that.”
“Mean what?” The blinking had slowed, the eyes bleary.
“That you would rather die.”
“Die? Everybody dies.”
Scott closed his eyes. What was he thinking? Virgil was off his face, this was not the time for a serious discussion.
“Everybody dies.” It was an echo, a repeat of the words he had said a moment before. “Mom. Dad. You.”
A frown. “I’m not dead, Virgil.”
“Yes, you are.”
A chill crawled up his spine. “Virgil, what do you mean?”
But his brother’s eyes were closed, his brow wrinkled. “Can’t.”
“Would rather die.” And his brother was drifting off to sleep.
He couldn’t help himself. He knew Virgil would deny everything come the light of day. He had to know. He reached out and touched his brother’s cheek. “Virgil, why? Why would you rather die?”
Brown eyes blearily opened and stared at him. “Can’t lose you. You’re the only one left.”
Scott blinked, attempting to decipher what Virgil meant. The only one what? “Virgil?”
“Please don’t leave me, Scott. I can’t-“ And there was an edge of panic in Virgil’s voice, his injured arm reaching out to grab him.
What the hell? “Virg, it’s okay. I’m not leaving.” Was this a direct line to his brother’s insecurities? “I’m here.”
His brother’s fingers desperately attempted to get a grip on Scott’s pyjamas, but the cast wouldn’t let him make a proper fist. “Scott, please.”
He grabbed Virgil’s hand and held it tight, reaching over to run his fingers through the man’s hair. It took a moment, but finally Virgil sagged into the bed, a shaky breath escaping between his teeth.
Scott bit his lip, but continued to comb his brother’s hair, long enough for the man to eventually slip into an uneasy sleep.
His heart was thudding hard against the inside of his chest.
When Scott turned off the light, he lay in the dark staring up at the ceiling.
Sleep would not come.