[CLOSED] like a puzzle.

[deacon reid rudman]

Deacon just looked at him, his jaw trembling. "Yeah, Connor.. Everyone fucking lies.." He said, then clenched his teeth together. He pulled the ring off of Connor's finger, throwing it across the house. "Fuck you too." He spat, getting up. He started down the hall, not caring when he screamed. He looked down, tears falling down his cheeks as he went down the stairs, picking up Bandit's blocks. He put them back into the box they were in, then put them with the rest of her toys.

'You can come get Bandit now.' That voice said again, and he looked up, sighing. He walked down the foyer, and out the front door, glancing at a mirror as he passed.

'There's no such thing as forever..' He thought, then walked out the front door, slamming it behind him before he disappeared.

[connor crayze sykes]

Connor snarled as Deacon yanked the ring free. Something inside of him broke, wanted to cry. "Deacon..." He whispered, huffed as the door slammed. He didn't know what was going on, teeth gritting, shadows curling at his feet. There was a high frequency sound and all the lights shattered, glass falling around him. He snatched a handful, grippig it tightly as he let it dig into his skin, blood running down his hand. He curled up in the corner, staring at his hand. He got up, feathers in a flurry, beating on the walls and gritting his teeth, dragging his bloody hand slowly over the paint, writing names, curses. He screamed angrily, grabbing a chair, and threw it across the living room. "F-fuck you!" His head was pounding, vision spinning. And then the world went black and he collapsed.

[deacon reid rudman]

Deacon looked around the all too familiar place, his green eyes dull and hurt. Everything was entirely too white, too neat and shiny. "I came to get Bandit.." He told Saint Peter, tapping his fingers on his legs before he shoved his hands into his pockets. He walked away, then came back with the red head. She smiled, holding her arms out for him.

"I thought you weren't giving her wings because she's free of sin?" He asked, taking her carefully.

"She's free of sin, but not chaos." He said flatly, and Deacon shrugged.

"You shouldn't have given her to me then, huh? You wouldn't have to worry about that if I could actually keep the jerk who used to be my fiance. But no. You have to make everything hard." Deacon muttered, dragging Bandit back to Earth.

"Home!" She exclaimed, and he sat her on her feet, following her inside. She looked around the darkness, her tiny white wings, moving slowly back and forth.

"Can you stop ruining the fucking house?! We're leaving, okay?! Fuck." Deacon called, walking to the kitchen to get Bandit a drink.

[connor crayze sykes]

Connor didn't stir though, breaths shallow and quick. His eyes were open and glazed, fixed on the wall, lost in the turmoil within his own head. Blood was puddled on the floor from his glass packed hand, tears fresh on his cheek. His eyes were frightened, but if he weren't breathing, he would have looked dead. Down the hall was Adam's name over and over, the words 'help' and 'hell'. 'No pain' was scrawled and smudged. 'Crazy', 'insane', 'I see him'.

[deacon reid rudman]

"Yeah, figures." He muttered, climbing up the stairs. He walked into Bandit's bedroom, grabbing her clothes and shoving them into her booksack. Then he started into the room he shared with Connor, stepping over him carelessly. He grabbed his suitcase from the closet, piling his clothes and piercings into it. He couldn't help thinking he was leaving the only place he had ever owned, the place he basically grew up in. Everything from his photo albums to his guitars were here.

He zipped the bag, slinging Bandit's bag over his shoulder. He started back down the hall with his suitcase, grabbing his keys. He yanked the locket off of it, throwing it across the room before he picked Bandit up. "Ready to go bye bye?"

"Where we going?" She asked.

"Thatcher's."

"Okay.." She said, laying her head on his shoulder.

[connor crayze sykes]

Connor shifted his weight some, whimpered. "Deacon...h-help me...please.." He sobbed brokenly. He reached up to clutch his head, tears falling down his cheeks. He brushed at them, smudging blood as he gazed at Bandit. Teeth gritted and he closed his eyes, screaming out. Too many things in his head.

[deacon reid rudman]

"You need fucking help. Call your damn girlfriend. I don't give a shit." He said, walking out to the car. He popped the trunk, tossing their bags in the back. He closed the trunk, then walked around the side of the car, opening the door. He got Bandit in and buckled, handing her the cup he had gotten before he rounded the car again, opening the driver's side door. He realized his phone was inside, and tossed his keys into the seat, walking back inside. He searched in the dark for his phone, finally finding it on the kitchen counter. He unplugged his charger and grabbed his phone, walking out the door again.

[connor crayze sykes]

Connor blinked in confusion. "I don't f-fucking cheat!" He screeched as Deacon came back in. He got up, stumblig after him. His blood,y, glass filled hand snatched Deacon's arm, wings fluttering. He screamed into his face, just a sound. Nothing human, nothing indicating anything at all. This wasn't Connor. It wasn't that it had come on quickly. Like all ofhers, it was gradual. He had just been sleeping so much that nobody had known..

[deacon reid rudman]

Deacon grabbed him by the jaw, glaring at him with bright green eyes. "Don't fucking screech at me. I'm not your fucking dog. I'm fucking done, damnit. I don't care if you're the only person I can touch. If touching you means I have to live in hell for nothing, then it's not fucking worth it. I'd rather touch no one at all." He spat, shoving him away.

"Use your fucking bird call on someone who cares. Because I sure as hell don't." He started back out the house, picking glass out of his arm. He didn't feel it though, was more ticked that it would ruin his tattoos.

[connor crayze sykes]

Connor stumbled back, wings spreading to keep his balance. He just stared at him coldly, then turned and began to walk, hurt. He cried softly as he stumbled down the path and out of the woods, walking down the street slowly. He could still think, somewhat. Part of him was still there. But his control was slipping. He pulled a shard of glass from his hand, dragging it slowly over his wrist. He'd agreed to avoid doing such things, and for Connor it was a promise kept. But not for whatever was clearly driving him mad. Fast.