[CLOSED] nothing but broke promises.

[deacon reid rudman]

Deacon stoked his hair, wishing he hadn't even mentioned Christy. "My.. mom had blonde hair and blue eyes and my dad had red hair and dark green eyes. So I guess I was the milk man's kid or something. My mom was pretty, though." He shrugged. They had been long dead. He barely remembered anything besides their faces.

"You know.. I always wondered why me.. Why I had to be cursed with this. But it really makes your little touches so much more special, knowing I can only feel you and bandit." he mumbled.

[connor crayze sykes]

Connor only smiled up at him faintly. "I-it makes you you..." He mumbled. "And I-I-I love everthying about y-you."

He sat up, wincing faintly, and paused to untangle himself from the rag of a shirt, glad it had been an old one anyway. Task done, he kissed Deacon tenderly on the lips, arms wrapping around his neck as he pushed him gently down onto the bed on his back, collapsing on top of him so they were chest to chest. A breathy, husky laugh passed his lips, wings unfurling lazily. The husky breaths in his laughter were proof her had been smoking, but looking at him closely, the slight unease and edginess, the tremors in his hands, proved he hadn't touched the drugs to calm his begging body.

[deacon reid rudman]

Deacon wrapped his arms loosely around his waist, meeting the kiss gently. He looked up at him, brushing his hair out of his face with a gentle touch of his fingers. "I know you're trying, Connor.." He whispered, taking in a shallow breath. He didn't need to breathe, but he did anyways, just so he didn't seem quite as strange.

"I don't expect you to stop everything on a dime.. I don't expect you to quit everything, either. All I ask is that you slack off on the drugs and alcohol.. I'm not even asking you to quit completely. Just ease off of it.." He shifted a bit, moving one of Connor's hands down his chest and into the hem of his jeans, letting him feel the deep gashes on his hips. "Don't die on me, Connor.. I can't keep going on without you.."

[connor crayze sykes]

"I-I-...I'm trying.." He muffled. "Haven't taken n-nothing s-since surgery but sm-moked a few cigarettes....i-it's too m-much...I n-need something..." He hated admitting it, so addicted to the monster he had been to the point that he couldn't go a day without.

He bit his lip, eyebrows furrowing as his fingers brushed the gashes, gently lifted Deacon's shirt so he could see them.

[deacon reid rudman]

Deacon undid his belt, pushing his jeans down a bit. They started just past the top of his thigh, and went up to his side. "You could see bone like, three days ago.." He mumbled, arching his hips up a bit so he could see them. "Well, you can still see bone, but I guess it's okay." He ran his hand over them, realizing they didn't hurt anymore. He might actually dig into the bone if he was tempted to slash them again. "They've been there since I slept with you. But they were just scratches then.." He took in a deep breath, chewing on his lip.

"So if.. doing drugs occasionally takes away the pain, then do it.. Just don't kill yourself.." He looked up at him, then kissed the corner of his mouth.

[connor crayze sykes]

Connor's jaw trembled, a faint whimper passing his lips as Deacon explained. He couldn't tear his eyes away, a tear escaping the corner, and he brushed it away angrily. "I-I don't wanna..." He mumbled. "I f-fucking hate n-not being able to go without them...i-it made m-me almost jump...made y-y-you hurt me...I don't want that.."

But he needed to, it was almost dangerous to drop it all at once, too much for his body to handle. "D-...Deacon...why?" He rasped. He stared up at him brokenly, then dropped his gaze to the gashes, hands shaking more then before as he touched them hesitantly.

[deacon reid rudman]

Deacon stroked his cheek gently. He knew Connor was trying, that he really wanted to get better. But he didn't want him to break doing it. He looked up at him when he questioned why he had done it, and felt his gentle fingers on his hip.

"The first time was.. the night we had sex. Because I couldn't deal with the fact that I'd done the same thing to you that your father did. The second time was when I realized you were dying.. The forth time was when you had refused to eat for the hundreth time. The fifth was when they took you to the hospital. And again that night was the sixth. The seventh was when you almost jumped, the eighth after your first surgery, the ninth after your second, and the last time was three days ago, when I couldn't get you calling me your dad out of my head.." He started chewing on his lip again, then stopped. "It sounds like you, but it's not.. It's because I don't know how to cope with the pain that comes with knowing the love of your life is dying, that you're enough of a monster to hurt the person who holds your heart in their hand.. Because I'd rather bleed and have these reminders when you're gone, than to take out the pain on you and Bandit, and lose you while I have you. Because when the cuts finally turn into scars, I guess.. I'll always kinda have you with me.."

[connor crayze sykes]

Connor stared at him in dismay, tears falling down his cheeks. Finally he burying his face in Deacon's chest, grabbing at his shirt desperately, hiding his grief.

"I'm f-...f-fuckin' hurting you..Deacon.." He sobbed, beating on his chest gently. "Th-this isn't right..n-not at all..y-you shouldn't hurt cos I-I'm sick okay..?" He rubbed at his chest gently, body trembling.

"F-fuck..." He sat up, sniffing, and wiped angrily at his face. "I don't e-even-...." He shook his head, trying to figure it out. Bee had been so right...Deacon had his own problems and Connor had been too goddamned blind. "I n-need..." He just needed to think, didn't want Deacon to see his breakdown.

Making sure it was clear he had nothing on him he got up, wrapping arms tight around his chest and slinking to the bathroom. He closed to door, sliding down against it with a muffled sob as he gripped at his hair. Deacon didn't deserve this...deserved so much better.

Moments later he was heaving over the toilet, sides aching with the persistant actions. There was already nothing left though, he hadn't even bothered lock the door, didn't need Deacon assuming things.

[deacon reid rudman]

Deacon listened to him talk, but didn't say anything. He just held him close, not wanting him to go. But Connor did get up, blaming himself for what Deacon had done. Deacon slowly sat up, tears falling down his cheeks. And if to add fuel to the fire, those words he despised kept ringing in his ears. 'You're just like my father.'

"I know I am.. So why do you stay?" He mumbled, more to himself than anyone else. He walked down the stairs, hearing Bandit and Christy giggle from her room. But he didn't care, the cute giggles not seeming to phase him. He walked out into the back yard, climbing up into his tree. He ran his hand across the divots in the wood where he had hung himself numerous times. He leaned back against the trunk, his legs stretched out on the branch as he took his belt off, letting it fall to the grass below him. He fished in his pocket, guessing his knife was on the table.

'Kill someone intentionally and I get Bandit and Connor taken away from me. But then Connor would have no memory of me hurting him, and Bandit would be back in heaven. Sounds like a plan to me..' He thought, pulling a safety pin out of his pocket. He ran it across one of the cuts, and sure enough, he had hit bone. He hummed a tune, a tune he would never hear besides from his own throat, and his eyes turned to black. He mentally went through his list of people, of who was going to die and when. And decided on someone no one would miss- a guitarist on the other end of town. He had another fifteen years ahead of him before he was supposed to drown swimming drunk in the lake.

"That'll save him the pain of drowning." He said quietly, looking down to realize his jeans were soaked in blood and he had carved into the bone there.

[connor crayze sykes]

Connor staggered to his feet. "I-I just wanna be with y-you.." He whispered under his breath. And he wanted to do just that no matter the pain of knowing he was hurting him every day he was with him, every day he fucked up...

Nails dug at his wrists a moment. No...he had to stop...couldn't fuck anything up...
Stress rose.

Stumbling towards the bedroom he found it empty and collapsed, crying softly, then cleaned up his own mess on the floor, digging at his wrists agai. As he moved quickly through the house, the ratty edges of his wings dragging on the ground. "Deac-con...?" Padding downstairs he eyed the front door warily, finding himself afraid to go outside.

Looking out the back he fell still at movement up in the tree, then down at sticky fingertips, faintly bleeding wrists. He stopped himself again, stumbling out back, glancing around.

"Deacon d-don't...please...!" He begged, coughing as he wiped at his face. He hauled himself into the tree with a grimace, prying Deacon's hand away from his side, knocking the object away and watching it clatter, but stay in the tree.

He gazed into the black eyes, fear surfacing the night Deacon had hurt him. He tried shaking it away, insisting he hadn't meant him. "N-no, stop ok-kay...?" He begged, voice cracking desperately. "I-it's not your fault Deacon, I'm s-sorry...s-s-so sorry..." He kissed him deeply, pulling back, staring at the bleeding wound almost repulsively. "M-my god..." He rasped. The word burned in his throat. "This is h-hell, you're my f-fucking Hell m-more than this sickn-ness damnit..."

He didn't bother brushthe tears away. "Deacon, l-look at me...I-...I can't k-keep doing this, n-not if we're h-hurting each other...I-....I dunno what t-to do nomore..." He cleared his throat.

"Love-...." But he didn't know what else to say to death himself.