Chapter Text
It was early when he woke up, sun barely risen enough to bathe his room with a slight glow. He looked beside him, to where Sam was laying, snoring louder than Colby had thought would ever be possible. It had taken a couple weeks for Colby to settle down into their routine, leaving his family to live in Vegas with Sam.
It had been a hard decision, but he had felt like a burden to his parents, no matter how much they assured him that they wanted him there. He’d heard his mom crying to his dad, wondering what they’d done to deserve this. They loved him, sure, but his presence was a dark fog that weighed down the house. He’d felt the need to cover the scars on his arms, to hide his nightmares for fear of hurting them.
He never had to worry about that with Sam. Sam didn’t judge him, he just ran fingers over Colby’s scars and told him that he was beautiful. Sure, it had originally made him a bit uncomfortable to sleep in the same bed with his soulmate, but Sam had never pressured him. Instead, he’d brought paint chips to his spare bedroom so that Colby could pick out a color for his safe space. He’d ordered pillows and plush comforters, and warm faerie lights to string across the room. He’d made sure that Colby’s favorite foods were stocked in the kitchen and he’d held his hand when he woke up screaming from nightmares.
He was everything and, soon enough, Colby had migrated to Sam’s bed in the master bedroom. And it was okay. There were no wandering hands, no pressure, no teeth against his neck or bruises between his legs. Just a incredible, impossible love that he couldn’t begin to understand. Sam had told him that his sister used to say that his heart was two sizes too small, but Colby couldn’t even fathom that.
A smile flitted across his lips as he swung his legs over the side of the bed, making sure to keep quiet as he tip toed out of the room. The clothes he had packed were under the couch where he left them and, as he quickly put them on, the gravity of what he was about to do was not lost on him. Just as he finished slipping on his dark shoes, a soft knock sounded from the front door.
He swung it open, smiling grimly when he saw Shea, a bandage crisscrossing her shoulder, standing on the other side. “Are you ready?” She asked him, watching him with dark eyes as he slipped out into the early morning light.
“As I’ll ever be.” He said, nodding at her. “Let’s just get this over with.”
The drive to the warehouse was not a long one, only a seven-minute drive from the apartment. It was dark, decrepit, but Colby knew what was inside. He knew what his future held. Shea knocked twice, waited, and knocked three times again, a signal to her girlfriend waiting inside.
Stas opened the door, quickly ushering them in. Colby had only seen Stas once before when Shea told him about this plan. She’d been sitting in the car, waiting for Shea as she spoke to Colby about what she had done. What she wanted them both to do.
“He’s in here.” Stas said, motioning to a room further into the darkness of the warehouse. “Don’t ask me how I found him. I have my ways.”
Shea reached out and kissed her girlfriend’s cheek, turning to Colby afterwards. “You’ll probably want to do this alone.” She said, unbuckling her gun from the holster and handing it to Colby.
He held the gun gingerly, making sure not to point it at anyone. “Yea.” He said, approaching the room. “I think this is… this is for me. This is something I have to do for myself.”
The man in the room was tied vigorously to a chair, with the kidnapper cliché bag over his head. Colby’s heart pounded as he came closer, the dread of what he was about to see seeping through his entire body. This was huge. This was life changing. This was the end.
When he pulled the sack off of his head, Belial blinked up at him, eyes adjusting to the light. Unveiling the face of the man who had torn his life to shreds, Colby expected to feel something. He expected to cry, to be afraid, to cower.
But this… this was just…. a man. A sick bastard of a man, but a man all the same.
His hair was dark and greasy, his eyes were green, his skin was sickly pale. He was nothing. Behind the gag, he tried to say something, but Colby didn’t feel like listening. He lifted the gun, pressed it against Belial’s head, and, without a moment’s hesitation, he pulled the trigger.
Blood and brain matter splattered on the wall behind him, pulling a grimace from Colby as he shook the gore off of the barrel of the gun. It was gross, but he didn’t mourn the life he had just taken. He was glad, he was ecstatic, even. He did several things, then.
- He returned the gun to Shea.
- He drove home.
- He texted his mom.
- He put his pajamas back on.
- He slipped into bed with his soulmate, kissing him on the forehead as he went.
- He realized that this, this moment in time, was the end.
All of his life led up to that moment, and now it had passed. Now. Now he was free. He smiled wildly up at the ceiling of his bedroom, giddy with the knowledge that now…
It was over.
He snuggled down into his bed and fell into a dreamless sleep, tucked in beside his soulmate. Safe. Finally.
Free at last.