30. Trapped

Summary: Davetrap corners Jack in the saferoom.

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They were happy fluffy freaky for too long now. Back to eeeuuhhh aaaahhhhhaaa

Also this is painstakingly mediocre sorry I wrote it in like three days fueled by pure stress

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Davetrap lingered, it seemed he followed Jack everywhere he went since they reunited. He tried to ignore him, told himself that was what he had to do in favour of his plan, so delicately constructed yet failing to take account for that distant ache he felt when he saw Davetrap outside his window, drenched in rain. He knew he hated rain, always slightly apprehensive that a storm would follow, distant memories of Dave hiding in his closet during especially loud thunder once threatening to get the better of him. Sometimes he wanted nothing more than to open his door and let him in, crash into some form of a hug without caring for the moldy fur that would surely stain his clothing. Despite everything, the harrowing sadness in his eyes was still so painfully lifelike it tore Jack apart.

But he knew better than to indulge in such fantasies. He relied on Dave to gather souls, it was his sheer spite towards Jack for rejecting his offer that fueled him. Letting him in, reconciling and restoring their bond, would surely do less than good for that plan. Not to mention that Dave had always managed to convince Jack in the past, smooth words and and a sly smile did alot for someone as lonely and bound to a predetermined path as Jack. He didn't want to think about what Davetrap could make him do if he got the opportunity, and that disassembled voice that sometimes resonated in the back of his head didn't help either. Just another thing to repress, he wasn't sure he had enough liquor to drown it out anymore.

He was too persistent, it took everything in Jack to match that energy. He'd depended on Dave for far too long, relied on him to feel alive and found comfort in being led. His own absence of a soul put restrictions on his emotional palate, and Dave filled in everything he lacked. He'd told himself it was just delusion, but Henry's tapes had shed a different light on the strength of Dave's soul. For years they'd been the heart and soul together, two pieces to the same puzzle; inseparable. The moment Davetrap was sealed away in that saferoom he had felt nothing but a dull and empty feeling, a disconnect from his own emotions that left him reaching for the bottle to feel anything at all.

With Davetrap outside his window, he'd often flee to the kitchen where he was just barely out of sight. Sometimes he wouldn't even leave, simply sitting against the cupboards as he drank until he felt too numb to register his own absence of liveliness, avoiding the sight of Davetrap as he headed for the stairs. He didn't want to let Davetrap see him drink; he was miserable enough without having to worry about Jack's self destruction. Jack could only begin to imagine how much of that misery he had brought upon Dave, whether intentional or not, the idea that he so much as resembled an extension of Henry was enough to make him curl in on himself

It was unbearable, somehow worse than the loneliness he had learnt to live with during those thirty years apart. At least that was involuntary; he didn't have to physically withhold himself from extending a hand just to feel the comfort of it being held again. He couldn't stand being in the house, looking at those glowing pupils while he repressed tears with all his might. Mouthing words, silent I love you's that he hoped conveyed onto Davetrap, things he'd never get to say. He found himself sneaking out the backdoor, unbothered to even lock it; Davetrap would find his way in if he really wanted to either way. Run a long way, feeling the wind swipe at his tears until he was far enough to go unseen by Davetrap, or until his decaying lungs gave out.

He'd passed out that way once. Ran until his ankles bled, soaking the fabric of his shoes so that it would form a harsh crust as a cruel reminder later. Mouth opened in a heave with his vision swimming, telling himself that he just had to go a little further to successfully run from all his problems, deliriously telling himself that he could somehow abandon his attachment to Davetrap this way. He couldn't tell why, maybe he'd tripped, but he'd collapsed on his knees onto the street and immediately thrown up all the poison that fueled him. With his mouth open in a dry heave, his arms and legs gave out beneath him and he lost consciousness.

He woke up again on a monday, tucked in his bed as if nothing had happened, his clothes near entirely cleaned from the stains of vomit. The harrowing realisation that there could only be one person, and person was a loose term when it came to Davetrap, who had brought him back dawned upon him. He must've roamed the streets for hours before he found him, and Jack couldn't even thank him for it. No matter how many thank you's he mouthed across his living room, it wouldn't ever feel like enough. He hadn't left the upstairs for days after waking up that day, couldn't handle the confrontation, not until his stomach began cramping from hunger.

Somehow, being in the restaurant hurt even more than being at home with Davetrap staring him down. Everything screamed Dave at him. Everytime he made a quip at his employees, he could only imagine how Dave would've talked back to him, how they once egged Phoneys on until they dissolved into distressed ringing. All the animatronics, Dave would've known how to restore them to their original state, or how to make some awfully funny abomination out of them for that matter. Even when he found himself annoyed at some screaming toddler, he'd find his thoughts wandering back to all the hurt he had done with Dave right by his side.

But alas, he had duties and a promise to fulfil, and eventually found himself back in the restaurant regardless. After a debriefing with his phone-headed employee, he'd wander the place in search of tickets, occasionally helping out where he was needed. Most often, he'd roam the kitchen in search of the little alcohol they had - something about adult entertainment - before stealing a bottle. The rest of the day would be spent mostly in the saferoom, sulking in his own reminiscence that oozed from the damp and cold walls. He didn't have a boss to abide by anymore, he was in charge of his own self destruction now.

Today was no different. The catch was better than ever; a full bottle of whiskey, completely untouched. He'd already unscrewed the cap when he pushed the heavy saferoom door open, taking a rich swig as it fell to a close behind him with a loud thud. The liquid stung in his throat, wincing against the taste, confined within his solitude. Despite his aversion to the restaurant, he liked not being watched for once, though something didn't feel quite right compared to the previous times. He could already feel the familiar presence before he heard the noise of gear grinding to take a step in front of the door, jumping in place as his hand slipped.

"Sportsy."

It fell, every defense that he had adopted to drown out his situation, directly to the cold tiled floor. All the distractions, the poison that would cloud his mind to the point of blissful oblivion, was of no use when the cause of his harrowing grief was stood right in front of him. A million shattered pieces amidst the liquor, flowing away from him until the concept of ever recovering it seemed near impossible. It was an instinct to turn and face the colossal animatronic that blocked his only way out, trapping him in that dingy room that suddenly didn't feel comfortable anymore.

"Ya've done a real good job of avoidin' ol' Davey..."

Dave had always been tall, one of the few people who towered above Jack, but slender. Davetrap appeared much bigger, somehow even taller and wider in the shoulders, suddenly with a lot more mass to him. Whereas he was once unimpressed by his appearance, he now looked intimidating as he brought a hand to his chest. Jack hated to see how much he had changed, how Davetrap was merely a fragment of what Dave once was. He hated the thought that he had contributed to that destruction more than anything, and already found himself missing the bottle that lay shattered at his feet.

"But ya' can't keep runnin' old sport, 'cause I always come back-!"

"Dave- You shouldn't be here, I-"

Jack managed to croak out, his voice rough around the edges and lacking any confidence. He hitched, swallowed back any more of the words as anything he could come up with wouldn't have done him or his plan any good. Everything in him told him to get out of here, but that wasn't an option with Davetrap remaining steadfast in his place before the door. It wasn't that he didn't want to see him - he wanted nothing more - but he knew he couldn't, too much relied on their rivalry. He shifted his eyes towards the shattered bottle, couldn't bring himself to look at Davetrap any longer.

"C'mon sports, ya' know we meant somethin' to each oth'ah! Or was Vegas nothin' to ya'?"

Jack tried desperately not to think of Vegas. Blurred nights where alcohol enhanced his bliss instead of misery, bad decisions that felt good in the moment, it only contributed to how he missed Dave beyond belief. Holding his hand wouldn't ever be the way it was in Vegas again, the mold-ridden fur of the animatronic hands couldn't compare to the calloused but gentle hands that caressed him through various Vegas nights. Davetrap wasn't one for careful and explorative touches anymore, he had lost that somewhere along the way; Jack hated how much slowly etched away from his soul.

He still wasn't looking at Davetrap as he pressed his lips into a thin line, remembering nights with Dave where they reminisced about a life without Freddy's, indulging in the fantasy where that was a possibility. Naked as the day they were born, coming down from a high Jack had let himself indulge in for once, sketching out their whole future. Dave had gone on about how he would invent something so revolutionary they could live without worry, together and content, a scenario so good Jack couldn't help but sulk in the strange comfort it offered him. When Dave swore he would somehow manage to do it for them, Jack had never expected that this was his way of fulfilling his promise.

"Answer me!"

Davetrap demanded, harshly setting his foot down on the floor, the unexpected aggression finally making Jack snap his eyes up at Dave. Something about that tone felt reminiscent of the heavy voice that echoed through the back of his mind, an unsettling similarity. Only now did Jack take a good look at Davetrap, too fearful that the action would prompt another reaction. He was decaying, his fur discolored from how unkempt it was, still soaked from the rain he had endured. The expression on the mechanical face only vaguely resembled the lively face Dave once had, and the various organs threatening to tip through one of the many holes in the suit only contributed in making him look more like the monster he was made to be. He hated that he had to put increasingly more effort into seeing Dave as the person he was beneath all the rot and decay.

"Look, it did- Really, it did... But that was long ago, and I can't keep-"

"I get it-! No more killin' toddlers, right, like ya' said old sport! But that doesn't mean ya've gatta leave me, I can be useful!"

This conversation was starting to feel like a monologue, it became evident that Davetrap was set on his ideas. He couldn't blame him, his soul was hardwired to cling onto the little hope it had left in order to thrive. Desperately, Jack tried to grapple through his adrenaline fueled mind for any response that wouldn't betray the fact he outright yearned for them to return to what they once had. It was impossible, even outside of Dave's severely altered state; his entire promise depended on their distance.

"There's more to it-"

A pathetic response, especially considering Dave's curious nature and his ability to get his hands on any information he so much as had a mild interest in. Even despite that, it was all there could be said; all he had to offer even if he knew Davetrap deserved better. He had to find comfort in knowing that the other part of his soul understood, that the two could be reunited once his promise was fulfilled, and that Davetrap would come to know what he meant to Jack.

"What, ya've found a distraction somewhere else?"

Davetrap's tone oozed of accusation as he pointed towards the shattered whiskey that lay between them. Jack felt something within him break at the thought of Dave perceiving himself as nothing but a distraction, knowing that he was so much more than that but being unable to say such a thing. Jack felt the words getting increasingly harder to muster up, opting to shake his head instead, failing to swallow back a knot in his throat as Davetrap was already speaking again:

"Ya' think yer' so clever old sport, hidin' in the kitchen ta' drink jus' to stumble upstairs, thinkin' I won't see the bottles ya' throw out. I see all the things ya' do to avoid me!"

Every single word, all the movements of Dave's calloused lips - once so delicately loved by him - only reinforced that sinking guilt that he tried to drink away. While he sulked in his misery of being alone, Davetrap still worried about him; after everything, despite his accusatory tone, he cared more about Jack than he himself did. He felt his breathing grow more sporadic at the thought of it, uneven as if someone was grabbing him by the throat. Maybe being physically grabbed by the throat and strangled would've been of more use, he wished Davetrap would manifest his anger into violence instead of words; at least he could've handled that.

"An' the runnin' off? Y'know how long it took to find ya'...?"

He tried to hide it, the crack in his voice, but he couldn't and Jack saw the sadness he tried desperately to conceal behind fabricated anger. He didn't want to attack Jack, no matter how much he thought he might've deserved it. The slightest sliver of affection might've fixed Davetrap, it always did, and it took Jack increasingly more effort to withhold himself from giving him just that. He shifted his weight onto the back of his feet, if only just to feel the sting of where his ankles still hadn't healed from that day.

"I was worried y'know, findin' you out on the street like that... Is that really how badly ya' wanna get away from me old sport?"

Now it was Davetraps turn to cast his eyes to the floor between them, glowing pupils hidden behind mechanical eyelids that followed their movement, his hands clumsily clasped together before his stomach. It broke Jack in every way possible; even when he tried to run from it all, Davetrap still took it upon him to take care of Jack, no matter how much he resented him for it. He couldn't tell what he had done to deserve such unconditional love, some part of him still lingering on the thought that Davetrap had every right to hurt him. It wouldn't matter, in the end they would all burn regardless.

"Thank you- For that..."

It was all Jack could manage in a near inaudible tone, it was the very least of what Davetrap deserved to hear. The room felt impossibly cold, sending chills down his spine, yet he found himself sweating amongst it all. He wanted to reach a hand out to Davetrap, pull him in for a hug and gush about how incredibly sorry he was, but found that he was trembling all throughout when he looked towards his hand. From the moment he heard Davetrap's voice, his immediate subconsciousness had disconnected him from the situation, but having to force himself speak brought him right back. It was only then that he noticed the overwhelming sensation of his heart pounding in his chest, accompanied by a sharp pain and a sensation of dizziness.

"I don't wanna have to come pick ya' up like that ever again sportsy- I can love ya' better-!"

Jack knew he could, he knew better than anyone, and that might've just been the worst part of it. It was him and his promise that drove them apart, tore a gap between them that seemed unmendable, no matter how much Davetrap tried. Jack feared his legs might give out beneath him as Davetrap took a step closer and grabbed him by his shoulders. The faint stench that emerged from Davetrap's rotting vessel had already been prominent, but Jack lost his last remaining shallow breaths as it hit him in the face. He couldn't bring himself to look at the broken expression that was visible even on the suit, instead letting his unfocused gaze linger on Dave's chest, uncovered by one of the many holes.

"What do I have t'do to prove it...?"

The words hardly even registered with Jack anymore, his ears were ringing and his mind focused entirely on trying to suck in a single breath. He had done everything to prove it, in his own way adapted to a morphed and manipulated reality. Jack should've been the one with something to prove, yet he found his jaw clenched and his body paralysed with sheer panic, only able to mutter half a word:

"Nothing-"

"Oh, I don't think ya' quite know what nothing really means, old sport."

There was something in his tone akin to reminiscing, as if he were recalling a memory; Jack didn't have the mind to acknowledge it anymore. Either that suit Dave was trapped in was incredibly fragile, or he was concerningly strong, but he tore a piece from his chest without difficulty. It fell to the floor, right into the puddle of spilled whiskey.

"Ya' have my heart, sportsy."

When Jack snapped back into focus and realised what Davetrap was intending to do, he had already pried a hand into his chest cavity. Serving your heart on a platter, the final dedication of unconditional devotion; a form of love in itself. It made him sick to think how far Dave would go for him, how he resembled Henry in more ways than he ever wished to comprehend. Or maybe, just maybe, it merely made him sick because he knew he could never reciprocate that unbridled affection.

Dave's hand, infused with metal and moving accordingly, dug into the flesh of his chest. Stale purple, intertwined with a deep tar that once must've been vibrant red with blood, so fragile he could easily pry into it. It moved to his demand, Dave's body was nothing but a vessel built to handle whatever it was subjected to, even if that was his own self-destruction. It gushed with rot, deep and unremovable mold that was brought upon him by years of torture, over his hand and down his arm into the crevasses of his suit. Jack couldn't tear his eyes from where he was fruitlessly digging for his heart, he didn't have it in him to tell him that it wasn't there.

The sight of rotten meat being torn apart to the bone, leaking with what couldn't possibly be healthy nor human, wasn't as devastating as the look of panic on Dave's face when he realised that he was empty; hollow. He treated his hand, the fur now a deep brown that closely resembled black, with that same tremble in it that Jack could feel throughout his entire body. His mind must've been equally as unnervingly racing as Jack's was, because moments seemed to pass in pure silence, where not even their breathing made any sound, though Jack felt dubious that he was even breathing at all.

Dave had been robbed of his heart, of the epitome of all love; of his ability to love like one should. He had nothing to give Jack but the promise that somewhere inside his rotten vessel there was still the devotion, that exact promise which Jack's own relied on. Davetrap stood motionless, could only stare at the proof of his own emptiness, that gap he tried to fill with Henry and then Jack, confrontation with the understanding that his yearning might've come from a place of being inherently hollow. All that was done to him, it tore away from him. He was built into the monster whose love was too complex to understand, the absence of his heart was a mere representation of everything he had missed in life because of his past, the situations he was relentlessly thrown into.

How Jack wanted to tell him that he was loved, that he was a good lover despite everything that made him the way he turned out to be, that there was something worth loving in his soul rather than his heart. No matter how intertwined he was with Henry, with all he'd been subjected to; it didn't defy him, and Jack knew how to see past everything. Through the stalking, the offers as an attempt to restore their dynamic, everything; Jack knew that there was a caring man underneath it all, and his heartlessness merely made him express that differently.

There was so much he could've said, so much he should've said, yet nothing emerged from his mouth. Dave was heartless, it was clear as day; he'd nearly torn apart all the remnants of his chest. There was no changing that, the past was the past and what was done was done, as much as Jack wished he could reverse time and be there for those dear to him when they needed him most. So he instead kept dully looking at the hole in Dave's chest, forcing himself to look at the extensive wounds until he felt sick to the stomach, until he finally realised that he hadn't been breathing.

He couldn't tell what Davetrap said when he spoke again, his ears were ringing and his vision periodically went colorless. His mind was too panicked to regulate his breathing, barely registering anything as he tried his hardest to disconnect himself from the situation at hand; his last resort. His legs felt weak beneath him, and before he could fully comprehend it, his vision went black entirely and he fell forward with a distant sob. Davetrap was just near enough to catch him, snapping out of his transfixion in favour of wrapping his arms around Jack's torso. He was always prepared to put himself on halt if it meant helping Jack, carefully lowering the both of them to the floor away from the shattered bottle.

His heart was pounding, he could hear it in his ears, feel it throughout his entire body. Davetrap must've noticed too as his hand, the same one he had just used to grapple at his own absence of a heart, lay on top of Jack's chest. He didn't stop to consider that Dave could somehow feel through the metal he was trapped in, that he never seemed to fully lose his observant nature. All Jack could do was curl into his lap as he stifled a sob, uncaring from the grime that coated the animatronic suit. Quiet whispers went unspoken in Davetrap's fur, clinging onto him like a lifeline.

"Geez sportsy- It ain't that serious..."

Davetrap tried to comfort, offering a laugh with his words of which even Jack, in his panicked state, could tell it was fabricated. It just reinforced all the guilt that washed over him and made him crash in such a manner; Davetrap was still suppressing his own, arguably more horrific, emotions in favour of tending to Jack. He wanted to tell him how much he didn't deserve it, how Dave should resent him instead, but all he could bring himself to do was curl further in his lap. With unsteady breathing, he basked in the vague resemblance of a comfort he had been yearning to relive for years. Davetrap returned his clumsy attempt at a hug, arms around Jack.

It was grounding to have someone hold him, to be able to feel the structure he was pressed up against amidst his onsetting panic. He didn't know how long they sat there, he hardly registered the majority of it anyway, but he could only assume this was where Davetrap thought he wanted to be most. No matter how much he hated how devoted Davetrap was towards him, he was robbed of all the energy he had left to argue, and sat silently in the embrace. Eventually his breathing calmed and he found himself numb, no longer shivering from some complex intertwinement of warmth and cold, staring ahead of him.

"Are ya' alright-?"

Davetrap eventually asked, with the most gentle and caring tone possible. Jack hummed, approvingly but quietly, he couldn't bring himself to say much yet. They sat for a moment more; neither showed any intent to move, and Jack took the moment to place himself into Davetrap's shoes - or mechanical paws, he wasn't quite sure. It felt impossible, despite his own lack of a soul he couldn't begin to imagine how dawning the realisation that he was heartless must've been. To think that you were so heavily altered, stripped of any chance at a normal life without your knowledge, it must be devastating. And to think Jack was the one to warrant that realisation.

"I'm sorry-"

He muttered in a stifled breath, burying his face into the remainder of Davetrap's chestplate to hide the lone tear that fell from his eye. It was the least Davetrap deserved, it was all which words could express.

"What for-?"

For avoiding you, the whole reason you cornered me here to begin with. For drinking my troubles away when you were right there, waiting for me; lingering. For all the care you've given me that I didn't deserve. For all the time I left you to rot, those years in which I never came for you when I knew I should've. For all the promises you made me which I never stuck around to see fulfilled. For how much I missed you, how much I yearned for you, yet never expressed any of it.

"Everything-"

"S'alright sportsy- I shoulda known I was heartless, with the rest o' me..."

There was a tragedy in his tone, the first and only thing that prompted a reaction from Jack. He shifted in Davetrap's lap, not removing himself from it but sitting up enough to face him. His hands found Davetrap's jaw, cupping it in both his hands; nothing at all like his once slender face had been. But even so, beneath all of the matted and stained fur of his embedded suit, lay the same face he had loved.

"You may not have a heart, but you're sure as fuck not heartless."

Jack's voice was firm, steady, for the first time since seeing Davetrap. It almost looked like he was flustered, his glowing pupils averting Jack's beneath the mascot's head. From that reaction alone, Jack concluded that he didn't need any more words to make his message come across. For all his trauma, physical and mental, there was still the intent of someone who cared more than he should beneath it all. A lover, one whose hands lingered on Jack's waist, stayed in contact for as long as they would allow themselves.

"And, no- I'm sorry about everything I've done, I-"

Jack already feared that he was pushing it with how long he was keeping himself steady while speaking, his sentence breaking near the end. Now it was his turn to avert his eyes, while Davetrap watched him with eager intent.

"There's so much to say, I just... I can't- I can't tell you-"

He was damn near breaking into a sob by now, which Davetrap seemed to catch on to as he pulled him back into their initial hug. Jack was grateful for the act; he always did find it easier to express the slightest sliver of emotions he still possessed when no one was watching. It'd be ages since he cried, it hardly ever happened since his death, but somehow Dave always managed to be the one to push him over that edge. The tears fell without any attempt to stifle them, unbothered by previous protest.

"Then what d'ya want me t'do-?"

Reverse time, bring it all back to how it was once if only to enjoy those fleeting moments of companionship a moment longer. Give up the murder, the devotion to Henry and all his plans; do the impossible. No matter how much he tried, he knew he couldn't unwind Henry from Dave's soul, it was the whole reason he still walked amongst the living to begin with. The tapes had made that clear, the memory of them sending another pang of guilt through Jack; it was horrifying to think he was abandoning Dave just as much as Henry once had.

"Stop trying to take care of me."

I don't deserve it, he wanted to add, but snapped his mouth shut before he could. Davetrap would argue with it, try to convince him of his own worth, he had to grasp the littlest affection for the majority of his life and had gotten particularly skilled in that field as a result. For a moment the room stayed silent, Jack couldn't imagine how much additional guilt he could handle if Davetrap started trying to argue with him on that.

"Then stop tryna' destroy yourself, old sport."

"You drive a hard bargain-"

He huffed a laugh with his words, because what was he to do otherwise? His tears, his misery, wouldn't make a difference. All there was left was to enjoy the time he had, only to eventually relish in the warm flames that put him to rest. His feigned laughter seemed to have an effect on Davetrap though, as he returned a similar, mocking, chuckle in response. Jack didn't know how he managed to switch so fast, but he was grateful for the more lighthearted tone that settled into the room. For just a moment, he felt that same comfort he experienced on late Vegas nights where contact said more than words ever could, and for just that moment: he allowed himself to indulge in it.

"It's the least I can give you, but-"

Jack started up again, picking his words carefully. No matter how much he wished to bask in this comfort forever, Davetrap was still a critical pillar in his plan, not to mention the child that had died at his hands only recently. Some might've found it strange to find comfort in a murderer's arms, but it was the only place that had provided it for Jack; something about mutual trust.

"-Y'deserve better."

"I'm perfectly happy where I'm goin' sports."

And maybe that was exactly the problem. The sheer devotion that fueled him, kept his rotten body upright in the way it was, was simultaneously what drove them apart. He'd given up on convincing Dave of Henry's evil long ago, there wasn't a way to do it without destroying him entirely, he couldn't stomach the thought of it. Perhaps that was selfish, but Davetrap's counterpart knew and accepted what he'd been through, which was enough to put Jack at ease. He could only do so much, Davetrap was a mere remnant of what he had once been, and functioned as such. Still, though, he couldn't help but love even that part of him.

"Then- I wish you the best of luck."

He raised again to face Davetrap, his hands finding his jaw easily; force of habit. Very gently, and with a little bit of an effort considering their height difference, he pressed a kiss to the forehead of Dave's suit, leaving an orange smudge in his wake. He'd never have thought animatronic suits could smile, but as he looked at Davetrap again, he considered they just might be able to. It felt almost nostalgic to see that smile, reminiscent of Vegas, of better times where the inevitable future still lay far ahead, where there was still time. For as much as he wanted it to pass recently, the fleeting reality of it all seemed unwanted for a moment; soon tomorrow wouldn't be another day anymore.

"I'll miss ya' sportsy-"

For a moment Davetrap sounded as if he was reconsidering everything Jack knew he would do, a terrifying thought and a threat to his plan; to their happiest day. He didn't let Davetrap linger on it for long, getting up from where he was still comfortably nestled in his lap, mourning the contact. His eyes snapped up at Jack, he could see that little bit of resentment for not wanting to restore what they had behind them; just like it should be, no matter how wrong that felt.

"Likewise, Davey-"

It felt a little odd to use that nickname on Davetrap, someone who only resembled a shell of who once was his Davey, but then again; Dave had never had a name which truly belonged to his essence. William, the homeless child who remained fatherless even with someone he tried so desperately to be a son to. Dave, delicately built into the disciple Henry had made him to be, already affected beyond belief. Davetrap, chasing a dream that wasn't his own through a vessel that hardly belonged to him either, a vessel that the remainder of his soul couldn't seem to abandon. Jack reconsidered; maybe Davey was exactly who he was, because that was who Jack had seen beneath everything.

He was out to the door before he could linger on it, walking away from his problems even now, and it felt worse than anything. It hurt to think that fantasies of a better life, where they were possible, would go up in flames with the two of them. There was nothing to change about it, this was his promise; the happiest day he had promised all of them. He'd avenge Davetrap, all of them, he told himself as he headed straight towards his car, furiously wiping at his leaking tears.

It was strange to love.

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[5798 words]

Kill davesport with rock