Work Text:
Jim looked down at the sword in his hand. He could see his own, sad eyes stare back at himself in disappointment on the reflection of the clean and shimmering metal.
His bedroom door was closed. The lock was on. There was no getting in or out, unless it was through the window.
He tightened his grip on the handle of the sword, and it shook. He was breathing heavy, and his limbs felt like they were trembling wind chimes blowing around in a strong stormy breeze.
The sun must have already been sitting, judging by the darkness that started to darken outside. However, there were no birds chirping good night to each other—no cicadas singing into the night, and no fireflies lightening the evening with their soft, green little glows.
Arcadia sounded and felt still in these final moments of his long, tiring life.
He knew Claire was at home, taking care of her baby brother while casually talking to NotEnrique as her parents fixed up supper.
He knew Douxie, Archie and Nari were at the café, pleasantly keeping the place tidy as the customers mused at Nari playing with plants that sat besides the window in pots.
He knew his mother was having out with Strickler at the café, the two enjoying the drinks that were served to them.
He knew Blinky and Aaarrrgghh were in the first’s library, reading and talking to each other while Vendel and Draal stopped by to greet them.
He knew Aja was taking care of her duties as queen in Akiridion-5, her brother Krel probably hanging out with Steve and Eli in the latter’s home.
He knew Nomura was straightening up the museum, listening to her favorite In Hall of The Mountain King play aloud on a device and echo around the building.
He knew Toby was just outside the front door of Jim’s house, about to knock on the door and open it when he didn’t respond.
Jim exhaled shakily.
How did it ever come to this? How did he ever manage to achieve such great success, yet feel so unable to move forwards? How did he manage to slay Bular, Gunmar and Bellroc again, yet not his own overwhelming sorrow?
There was never anyone out there who could ever really defeat Jim.
No one but himself.
“Jimbo?”
The sound of his nickname echoing through his empty house made shivers crawl down his spine. The nickname had been used so many times, for many different reasons….
Jim didn’t think when he moved the sharper side of Daylight up close to his neck. He could feel the blade shaking with his nerves, and his heart beat loudly in his chest. It was so close to touching his neck.
He wasn’t thinking.
He could hear Toby ask for him from downstairs, and the sound of his voice made Jim’s eyes tear up.
How did he ever manage to love such great people, save them so many times, only to wind up wanting to leave them, despite his overwhelming love for them?
He wasn’t thinking.
He couldn’t wake up and feel good about himself. How could he when the eyes of everyone he loved stared back at him in his head, the life ebbing away from them, despite the fact that they were actually alive and well?
His breath hitched at the feeling of the cold and sharp metal touching the sensitive skin of his neck, right over his Adam’s Apple.
The sound of his stout childhood friend’s footsteps coming up the stairs mimicked his racing heart. The tears were stinging his eyes like fiery water, and his throat was tightened into a knot.
That, or maybe it was the blade pressed against his neck.
He pinned himself back up against the door of his room and slid down to sit with a soft, metallic thud on his armor. He swallowed thickly when he heard Toby ask from the other side, “Jimbo? You in here?”
The door handle twisted, and Jim knew the realization was just dawning Toby when there was a pause.
“...Jim?”
The sudden shakiness and fear in Toby’s voice made the world feel as if it had stopped spinning.
He wasn’t thinking.
Jim leaned his head back against the door with a soft thud, and he can easily hear Toby look up through the dead silence. He closed his eyes and started to add more pressure with Daylight on his neck, little by little feeling it start to get hard to breath.
“Jim—” He could feel Toby start to push the door and twist the doorknob more aggressively. “Jimbo, what’s wrong? Talk to me, buddy!”
The door shook with each shove Toby started to give with his shoulder. Jim’s heart aches and pities for his friend.
He wasn’t thinking.
“Jim, come on—open up!”
He felt a warm tear slide down from the corner of his eye. A sad, fragile smile came across his lips, and he choked out in a soft sob that made his shoulder’s jump, “I’m sorry.”
The door stopped moving. He knew if he had opened the door, he would have seen Toby staring up at him with teary green eyes and a slightly agape mouth.
But he didn’t.
Because he wasn’t thinking.
Just one slit , he thought. One, deep slice, and it’ll all be over.
For him. For everyone, it would just be the beginning of their sorrow.
He was selfish for that.
But he also had no will to fight against himself anymore.
So he calmed his breathing—
“ Jimbo !”
—relaxed his body—
Thump! Thump!
—gave a sigh—
“I love you, Tobes.”
—and with a swift movement, it all simply went black.
Jim Lake Jr. sat lifelessly against the door with the Amulet of Daylight rolling off his still chest, his blue eyes closed and never to be opened again. The armor vanished from his form, and the pouring blood from the deep gash in his neck stained his clothes and pooled the wooden floor beneath him.
Toby Domzalski from the other side pounded the door wildly with his hands and shoulder, tears streaming down his horrified face. His watery gaze fell to the floor beneath him, and his blood ran cold at the sight of a pool of blood coming from the other side. His limbs weakened, and he could no longer knock the door. He only fell to his knees in devastation and stared at the blood— Jim’s blood —with round, green eyes.
Jim wasn’t thinking.
He became.