Broken Boulder the end should be a good one

for @Alarian, present-dated

Luckily for him, he'd mostly dodged whatever sickness--brought on by the fucking cats, he supposed--was floating around the place. Some were in terrible shape, but for his part, it was sniffles and a slight ache in his bones. It was no worse than a winter cold, and he used it to his advantage, choosing now to make his move. He strides around the camp, amid the pungent smell of disease and cat urine, nose wrinkled.

He was looking for Alarian, and he didn't really know where to find him. Nose in his cache, looking for herbs for the sick? Curled up with Delight somewhere? Playing with the children? In his utter sense of what the fuck is even going on in this place, he stopped just outside the boulder, sitting down hard on his haunches. There was pain etched clearly into the lines of his face; he looked much older than what he was, a shell of what he used to be.

Alarian was fine, when he'd arrived. Maybe he had his problems, but he had been fine. Then Runion had fucked him up, not once, but twice. And then Zamael had pushed him completely over the edge--he had tried to fucking kill himself! And it was Zamael's fault. It was--he couldn't deny it. He'd take that truth to his grave.

His breathing came hard, his heart pounding in his chest. He knew it would be okay, that Delight would take care of him. Delight: he was good for the boy. A good, strong presence. Exactly what he needed. Zamael was the embodiment of all the chaos he had chosen to escape.

Well, fuck that. Zamael loved his brother too much to be the bringer of bad things.

It wasn't a goodbye, not forever. Just long enough for the wounds to heal. For both of their wounds to heal.

He's been so numb; the days have blended together and he's not sure anymore why he's still here. Each day he gets up, avoids the cats, gathers herbs and tends to the sick — it breaks his heart to see @Delight getting sick, but there's painfully little he can do except treat the symptoms. When there's no grief or dread, he feels void. Pointless. The situation with Zamael looms over him like a ticking time bomb, and more often than not he wishes he'd died that day.
It'd have been easier.
He's easy to find, at least; he's tucked himself in his den, trying and failing to sleep off the exhaustion that has settled over him. His brother's arrival startles him. For a beat he can only look at him — he wants to reach out, to greet him with an affectionate nose to his cheek, but something in his expression stops him. He swallows hard and waits, silent.

Then he came, and Zamael felt like a worm. Dirty, unworthy of such affection. He swallowed, struggling to meet his brother's champagne gaze. Knowing that when he spoke, it would be forever. Not the goodbye, but the knowledge of it. Just another grievance Alarian could hold against him until the end.

"When I found you. . .in your den. . .a part of me died," he whispered, throat so tight it ached to even speak. "I had failed. Failed to keep you safe from harm. Runion--Runion wasn't the only douchebag brother that hurt you. Maybe I hurt you even worse. Bad enough to. . ." Die. The unspoken word lingered like a mosquito, buzzing angrily in his ear.

"I'm who you've had, for at least part of your life," Zamael continued. The tears in his eyes blurred the image of his brother; perhaps it was better not to see him, lest the sight do him in more. "I've tried my best to take care of you. But Alarian. . .I failed. I'm who you've had, but I'm not who you deserve. I am chaos, I am pain. I've completely fucked things up at every turn. And it's fucking killing me inside, Alarian."

He broke down then, narrow shoulders trembling as his head sank low. "God, I'm sorry for it," he sobbed, eyes and teeth both gritted shut. "I'm so sorry for what I've done, and what I'll do. I'm sorry for it all." Fucking pathetic. Fucking worm. Where was the bird, to snap him up? It should have come by now; if it were a merciful creature, it would arrive soon.

Whatever he'd been expecting, it wasn't this — but as Zamael speaks, it becomes increasingly clear what he's done. His breath catches in his throat and he moves to press his muzzle against his brother's shoulder, trembling. The words are almost too much to take in; for a beat, he can't find the words to respond.
Zamael, He says, all his love and heartbreak bleeding into the single utterance, and he's quiet for another moment. Please, don't — I'm sorry. I — you never failed me, I promise. He swallows hard and takes a breath.
I'm sorry I've made you think that you have — I'm sorry I hurt you. I — fuck, all I ever wanted was to find you — but I can't — He pulls away and shakes his head.
You're not chaos, Zamael — I am, and I always have been, and... and I don't think it's ever going to change. Whatever you need to do, I — The words catch in his throat, but he forces them out. I understand.

His brother's touch did nothing at all to soothe him; it further stirred the emotions, the tempest, and he whimpered like a child. Shaking his head, refuting everything--everything!--Alarian had to say. No matter how genuine it was. He deserved none of it.

"We're all chaos, Alarian," Zamael responded. "All the Keils. That's why they wanted us to come back." He lifted tear-reddened eyes to his brother's face, his own set in rigid agony. "But I'm the worst of the lot. I know better. . .I should know better. I care about you, oh god--do I care about you. More than I care about myself. But I've let you down too many times, and if you don't think so--I do."

His gaze darted round the clearing, looking for Delight. Hoping the dark man would come to alleviate some of this pressure. "I've gotta go, clear my head for a bit," he whispered. "I'm not leaving, not this time. Not forever. But I'll be gone for a while, Alarian. Long enough to. . .put the pieces back together. To try and make something of this fucking mess of a mind."

It was what he had wanted, after Carvel had died. That time, he had left without a word, slipping away before dawn. No one had known. Not even Alarian. This time had to be different. There was no choice.

What had Alarian said? He'd begged him not to go. And the memory of that whispered plea clawed at him, at the edge of every dream.

But would Alarian rather have his brother go--or should he fall apart at his paws?

He listens quietly; he doesn't know what Zamael is talking about, but he doesn't feel like he has the right to say anymore, or to argue when he says he needs to leave. It hurts — of course it hurts.
And he doesn't believe him. If he lets go, he knows this could be the last time. He can't put faith in Zamael coming back — it's too much to ask right now, when everything is falling apart at the Sanctuary and he's trapped in a choking fog, and all his thoughts seem to come out ugly and misshapen. Maybe when his mind isn't so rotten and sickly, he'll feel differently — but right now, it feels like being abandoned all over again.
Okay, He says softly, closing his eyes to stop the tears he can feel heating up behind his eyelids. There's nothing else he can say. He can't let Zamael see how it breaks him — he doesn't think anything will stop him, not now, but it'd be the same kind of burden that has driven his brother to leave him again. He takes a deep breath, and somehow keeps himself composed; at least, he thinks, until Zamael leaves.

Alarian did nothing but silently break down. It was like--fucking, he didn't know. Like someone had torn out his heart and was just stepping on it, squeezing it into the ground. It hurt, so bad; his knees buckled, and the feeling of complete and utter misery came over him like a wave.

"Delight--Delight is gonna take care of you," Zamael managed to spit out through the grief, tearful and hoarse. He sniffled, ashamed of the snot that dripped with the tears. God, how he must look. "He's. . .he's a good guy. He's the guy I always should have been for you. He's gonna be there for you better than I ever could be. And Eris, Lily, Korei. . ."

If Alarian pulled away, so be it. But Zamael rushed forward, trying to take his brother into his embrace. Treasuring it. Who knew when he'd return? How long would it take to turn himself around? Perhaps he never would, and he'd have to come back just as fucked up as he'd always been.

"I love you," he gasped, pressing his face into Alarian's pelt if allowed. Taking in the scent as familiar to him as. . .breathing, really. The scent of home. "I love you; I will always love you. I will never stop. And even when I leave, I will always come back. I know I've fucked up so many times, you have every right not to believe a word I say. . .

"Alarian, no matter how far from you I am, you are with me in my heart. Forever."

He wants to comfort Zamael, but then he brings up Delight and the words tear at him for some reason — Delight is sick, he wants to remind him, Delight is fragile, he's just lost Queenie, and maybe he can't handle me either. But he can't.
He tenses as his brother embraces him, but he can't move. The touch hurts — it burns like fire, but when he feels Zamael bury his face in his fur he melts into the embrace. A moment later, he feels himself shatter. He can't stop the tears now, burying his own face in his brother's thick grey fur, but he's still quiet. All he can do is listen. He wants to believe him — more than he's ever wanted anything, he thinks. It sounds so beautiful; it sounds perfect. If he could believe that Zamael would always come back to him, it would be perfect.
But he's leaving, and it's hard to see anything past that — the fact that he needs to get away from him so badly. Some part of him knows that in time, it may be different; so he soaks in the embrace, and eventually the words to respond find him. I love you, He murmurs into his fur — and if this is to be the last time, he must know how much. More than I've ever known how to show. More than anything else.

"I know," Zamael responded, nodding, still pressed against his brother. "I've never doubted that. Not for a second." How could he? Alarian, for his faults, had the gift of boundless love--at least, for his older brother. But for others, as well, perhaps. Delight? They grew closer with each and every day. Maybe Delight would have stepped into the role as adequate replacement, when he finally returned.

He hoped, for his brother's sake, that it was more than likely.

He pulled away, knowing that his time was up here. If he didn't go now, he never would. And he'd continue to fuck things up, continue to-- God, it was Alarian's dependency on him, right? He couldn't remain here as a crutch to his brother, an easy escape from the weight of the world. It was better for both of them that he left for a while. He knew this. He felt it deep within himself, like blood through veins.

"Take care of yourself, Alarian," Zamael whispered, running his nose along his brother's cheek one final time. "I love you."

With a last glance at the only wolf he had ever loved more than himself, Zamael turned and ran--

Ran, like a coward. Just like he had always done.