Chapter Text
It was perfect, the plan they had spent years orchestrating, planning and perfecting, everything was fine. Until you put a knife in a psychopath's hand and tell him to stab his friend.
The blood loss was still within the plan range. They knew that, with adrenaline, they could achieve it, they had studied as if it were the Harvard entrance exam, multiple related cases, but they had not thought that blood would make them less thoughtful and vulnerable.
It was a note that was not there.
It was stupid how they had finished them off, Billy was lying on the floor.
Humiliated, injured and with life in a flash, Sidney was standing, as if he were the best person and not a cursed one, a Saint who will appear in the news and times.
Before he even knew it, he was thinking about Stu, how he would never be able to see him laugh and tell jokes, seeing him behind him and knowing that he was following him; He will not know if he lived or died because of him.
Sidney says something or does something. He can't see it; his eyes are blurry. But it doesn't matter, all he can think about is Stu.
Stu and his laugh, and his height, and his loyalty, and everything that makes him Stu.
He thinks that he should have held on, as they had practiced, not in vital places and slowly pulled out the knife. But it was Stu's blood that hypnotized. Its color, its smell and its everything.
Greedy wanted more and more. And much more.
He should have held on, at least he would have been more helpful (he would have survived longer if he is still alive).
He eyes close as he thinks about he last hug, always initiated by Stu.
He should have hugged him more.
Maybe say he loved him.
For a long time, it was nothing.
Not feeling, not knowing and not thinking.
The nothing.
Relaxing, calm and orderly.
The same peace.
True peace.
But then there was the pain.
Agonizing, ugly and violent.
Everything.
Feel everything, know everything and thought everything.
For a time.
Then he went back to doing nothing.
Nothing.
Then everything.
And nothing.
And all.
Nothing and everything.
A cycle without time or duration, without measure or precision.
Until there was none.
Then he breathed and opened his eyes.