Work Text:
"Hey." I poked my head through the open door.
Stephen was slobbering into his coffee again.
"Everything okay, Stephen? I know it's not Starbucks, but ..."
He looked up at me with deep, watery eyes.
"Jon," he said, in a voice that even then broke my heart. "They were supposed to take me."
I sat.
"Stephen," I said.
I leaned forward and folded my hands on his desk.
"You know what happened to everyone they took, don't you? Sam and Ed and Aasif and -"
"Of course I know, Jon! I'm not a CHILD!" Stephen fixed me in a resentful stare, only a little softened by the red eyes and tear streaks. "They're in HEAVEN."
I stared.
I blinked.
He couldn't really -
- but then, this was Stephen.
"Stephen," I breathed, and reached out to take his hand. "Oh, Stephen ..."
"Armageddon, Jon." Knuckles white, Stephen clutched at my hand like a vise - like a lifeline. "The world ended, it ended, and - I went to church! I gave them - some of my money! I helped people! I - I HAD A T-SHIRT MADE, JON!"
Stephen bowed his head, and his grip on hand loosened. He seemed to deflate before my eyes.
"Jon, am I a bad Christian?"