That's right, it's the final chapter to this series. I hope you all enjoy
 
 

It was summer at last. The cold fingertips of winter had relinquished their grip on the continent and allowed spring to bleed through into summer. The trees were green and plush with leaves, saplings stretching up into the sky as if they could grow forever. It was the season of rebirth, of new growth. A time to move on from the past.

Sat beneath the sycamore tree, Killer smiled. He hadn't been here in years, too consumed by grief to consider visiting the oasis. Being here now, he wished he'd decided to come sooner.

Today marked nine months. Nine months since he'd last held a blade to his wrists, since he'd last thrown himself into oncoming traffic, since he'd downed a box of pills and lay waiting in bed. It had been a slow, unforgiving recovery in which he had many good days, and bad days. Some times it felt easy, like he could feel himself building up to a new future, a better life. Other days he found himself crushed by the immense weight of it all, feeling overwhelmed and drowning in a vast sea where no boats were in sight, no life rings were thrown. He was on his own.

Outer had ended up being a rock for him. A grounding point. Some days he hated him, yelled and hit him, cried and berated him. Other days he would cling to him like life support, press into his arms and apologise over and over for being so difficult.

He still wasn't sure if he loved the man, let alone whether he'd spend the rest of his life with him. Somewhere in the back of his conscious he knew he probably wouldn't. Maybe it was cruel to lead him on like this, but in his mind he wasn't leading him on. Outer knew the wound of Dream was fresh, and he didn't expect a family from the other. Perhaps he really had nothing more than the others best interests in mind. Right person, wrong time.

Outer wasn't there right now, out for the day with his friends. He had offered for Killer to join, but the other already knew he'd have to decline the offer before it was asked. Today was the two year anniversary. The day that marked two long, aching years without Dream. His not-so-happy death day. Last year he'd spent it in a depressed haze, fingertips never too far from a knife. Today, he held a flower.

It was a bright, canary yellow. His favourite colour. With his particular colourblindness, he'd never managed to see the burning reds, succulent greens and flaky whites. His world was forever an unexciting smear of brown. But yellow shone through against everything. Yellow and blue. That's why he'd liked this park - every year the daffodils, buttercups, dandelions and tulips would sprout at the same time and turn the green floor a glorious yellow. They would stretch out like a sea towards the central lake, glistening in brilliant blue.

Twisting the stem of the flower in his fingers he closed his eyes, recalling. He had come here with Dream years ago. Before he'd died, before they'd became engaged. It had been near the start of their relationship, when the Star Sanses had only just found out, when it was still a deadly secret from Nightmare. They should have been more careful.

They had simply sat there in the grass, their arms wrapped around each other as they stared at the sky. Sometimes they'd point out silly shapes in the clouds, other times  they would spend hours simply talking, rambling about everything and anything they could think to tell about themselves so they could get to know each other better. Occasionally he'd listen to Dream do his very best to describe colours, hand gestures wild as he failed miserably to describe the colour pink.

It's like red, but soft and wimpy.

He could remember laughing, a crescendo of cackles as he tried poorly to imagine it in his mind. Whatever the colour was like, it didn't sound very appealing. And then there had been purple.

It's like.. Rich. A very rich, royal colour. The type you'd expect on a king. Because in old- ancient times, purple was a very expensive colour - so only the kings and royals could afford it. You get it when you blend red and blue together.

Sometimes he could picture the colours perfectly from his descriptions, others he'd purposely act oblivious until the other threw his hands in the air and gave up.

One colour he remembered the other describing well was green.

It's restful, calming. It simply feels like- like life. It's the colour of grass, leaves, nature. It's the lungs of the planet, a powerful, impacting colour. If it were a touch, I'd say it's like.. like a soft feather brush to your knuckles.

Killer had decided from that day that despite not being able to see the true properties of green, it was perhaps one of his favourite colours. Not quite as good as blue and yellow, but still a colour he felt that if he could see, he would enjoy immensely.

There had been a day - once they were already engaged - when Dream had told him he was going to spoil him. Initially he hadn't known what he'd meant, and to be frank nervous because Dream's surprises quite often had the capability to scare and scar him for life. Yet the surprise had truly spoilt him. They were glasses, the funky kind that had special receptors to catch colours. For the first time in his life, he had seen. Truly seen.

They had gone to a butterfly sanctuary, and he had sat there for hours, simply watching the different colours. And it was then that he understood the others descriptions. Pink was indeed a soft and wimpy red. Purple was rare and royal, and green was everything he hoped it to be. Dream had to physically peel him off of the bench to go home with the promise they'd come back some other day. The glasses were great - helped him see everything. They were only really worn for special occasions - a sunset dinner, a day out, a sensual night under the covers.

Yet since the incident he hadn't used them much. With his greatest source of yellow missing, he liked to fill his vision with the shining colour as much as possible.

Lying beneath the shade of the tree he smiled, twirling the flower stem until it bowed beneath his fingers, threatening to break. They had come here a few times as a couple, had picnics, nights out, and simple lazy days starfishes beneath the tree. It had become part of their routine, once every week or so. After falling out of the routine, he realised he'd missed it.

The clouds looked lumpy, perhaps making a few shapes. But it was nothing inspiring, no leaping rabbits, no hidden faces or pretty shapes. Just clouds. He supposed if he squinted hard enough a certain cloud might look like a ballon - but that was really just a lumpy oval. The lake looked more of a murky brown than the old sparkling blue he remembered, but there was always the chance he might have romanticised the memories he had left. It wouldn't be the first time.

Grass tickled beneath his fingers and he let his head tip to the side, studying the green blades poking up between his fingertips. Next to the bones, cast to the side was a small capsule. It once contained a multitude of white pills, now it was nearly empty. A few lay littered across the mossy floor, dropped in his fumbled attempts to swallow them all. He had been careful though; he knew the maximum amount he could take; he didn't cross it.

The pills would work their way into his system slowly, piece by piece break down his strength until would feel the blissful tug of death. The Grim Reaper wouldn't reach him, though. He knew his fate.

As he waited for the pills to do their job he found himself thinking, his mind simply wandering to the life he'd built, to the lives his friends had built.

Dust and Horror had moved in together officially, buying a terraced house in some lively market town. It had been rundown and old when they'd got it, but they'd fixed it up nicely. Killer had gone there for the official housewarming party, and had even painted a few walls - the living room had been done a stylish shade of grey. He had also helped tile the bathroom, but that had ended in more tiles smashed then there were on the wall. But it had been fun, one of the few times he'd felt not a hint of sadness in his body. He was only happy. Days like that were rare, but when they came he relished them.

He still made occasional contact with Cross, and they had even met for a sparring session a few times. It often resulted in all the pent up emotions he'd been bottling for months being released in one raging fit, but they both felt better for it. It was as if Killer was shedding his pain, while Cross released his guilt. It was a good way to express his frustrations without actively having to word them.

He hated talking about how he felt. That's why he'd refused Outer's suggestion of a therapist. They always spoke in that slow, patronising tone, a slow murmur. They would address him as if he were stupid, slow, incapable of understanding. And if he'd told them about Dream? They'd laugh. Feelings were best expressed through actions, not words. He had always been the physical type over the communicative type.

As he lay there, he could see the corners of his vision blurring, eyes flickering as the pills worked through his system. He had always liked the method of pills; it was so much nicer than the other, messy methods he had tried in the past. It felt as if he were simply tired, gliding towards a deep sleep. Of course he'd never get far enough for his eyes to slide fully shut. He'd never been too close to death. Always on the brink, yet never pitching over the edge.

Suddenly, a jolt tugged at his soul. It was like a pinch, as if an invisible force had reached out with pincer-like fingers and nipped at it cruelly. It startled him, eyes attempting to widen. Yet he found they couldn't. With the taste of bile in his mouth he realised he couldn't move, arms feeling like they were bound to heavy weights. His throat felt clogged, thick with a liquid he couldn't swallow. It was with a sudden panic that he considered he might be dying. Truly dying.

A slurred groan forced itself from his mouth and his fingers shook, brushing through blades of grass and digging into the soil. He couldn't keep his eyes open- he couldn't-

His body felt cold and for the first time he truly worried that there was no one to save him. He was conscious of the sob he gave, eyes squeezed shut. Was he breathing? He couldn't tell.

Just when he felt as if the cool arms of death had curled around him, warmth bloomed at his cheeks.

"Oh Killsy.. why are you crying? I thought you'd be happy to see me.."

His eyes flashed open, vision a messy smear. He made out a figure, pearly white wings, a golden circlet.

"Drrm.." He spoke slurred and disproportionate. He sounded as if he were hearing himself from very far away.

"Easy now Kills.. You took more pills than I think you meant to." His voice sounded like silk, and Killer felt he could weep in relief. It suddenly hit him just how much he'd missed the other. Gentle fingers wiped away silver tears, smile coming into focus. "You fool." It was said with all the affection in the world.

Delirious and blurry, Killer threw his arms around him. The action was clumsy, but Dream was fast to hold him, face pushed into his shoulder as the other clung desperately to his chest.

"I've missed you.." He whispered, voice hoarse.

"I know you have, cherry." He always felt guilty that he could watch Killer all day every day. He could sit upon the clouds in heaven for hours to simply observe the other, follow him to the river, witness him laughing with friends. He was always happy to see Killer happy, yet guilt had always bubbled. He could see him, but Killer couldn't see him. Killer would be forced to wait until the next time he took a blade to his soul. It wasn't fair. But it was the fate they had been dealt, and they had to accept it.

In the past they might have had a silly squabble over who loved who more, with the subject never truly being resolved. He could attempt to argue that in fact he'd missed the other more, but knowing the other hadn't physically seen him in nine months, he knew the other would have missed him more than he himself could ever comprehend.

Arms sliding around his waist he pulled him closer, adjusting the other's body until he could lift him. Sitting down, he let the other drape across his lap like a tired cat. Killer hummed, burying his face further into the softness of his top. It was clean, and smelt fresh. Supposedly angels don't smell. Beyond the crisp scent of lint and airiness, Dream's worn, smoky scent lingered. His smell is was comfort; home.

Snuggling into him he breathed a sigh of relief, listening to the silence of his chest. Before the.. incident he'd often enjoyed lying in the bath, bed or sofa with his head to the others chest to listen to his soul beat steadily. The apple had always fascinated him, and he'd spent hours holding it, much to Dream's worry and sometimes pleasure. Now that his chest was silent it wasn't the same. But nothing was the same as it was before.

"How long do you think we have..?" Killer murmured, voice soft and small.

Dream cupped his cheek, tipping him up until his lips could press to the other's softly, lasting a moment. "An hour, maybe less."

Letting his words sink in Killer nodded, thinking to himself for a moment. "I- I don't know how to say this-"

Dream's finger pressed to his lip, hushing him with a sorrowful smile. "I know Kills, I know.."

A moment of understanding passed between them both and Killer's breath hitched, the lump in his throat feeling like it could split the bone open. Dream saw the gentle scrunch of his nose, the weakness in his eyes, the way his fingers trembled. Hiccuping, the other shoved his face into his shoulder, grip tightening.

Neither of them spoke for a moment, Dream's fingers passively stroking along the back of his skull in slow, soothing moments. Not a word was shared, but the message was clear.

This would be the last time.

Part of it stung, and the monster in him wanted to demand for Killer to stay with him forever. But he couldn't do that. He had grown so much from the broken, torn apart man he'd been in the first days of his death. He recalled how the other couldn't even look at the colour yellow without sobbing - an issue considering his colourblindness. But now he was stronger, healing. The cracks in his soul had been patched haphazardly with metaphorical plasters and bandages. Every time they saw each other again it tore one of them clean off, reopening wounds that didn't need to be.

It would be better for the both of them if their visits stopped. No more attempts to take life, no grand rescue attempts. They would simply live.. apart.

As much as it pained him to consider, they would both have to move on. Selfishly, he thought it would be easier for Killer than him. Killer wouldn't have constant reminders of him - other then the ones he kept. But those would become fond memories, mementos even. But for himself? He'd have to avoid sitting in the clouds to watch the over, force himself not to check on his fiancé and see the new life he'd created without him.

They used to promise each other they'd be the only ones they'd ever love, that no one could replace the other. And that was true, they just hadn't expected fate to deem them such a cruel future.

"I- I never got to marry you.." Killer mumbled, voice distant. Dream knew the other wore his wedding ring around his neck, keeping it to him at all times.

"Then why not now?" It was hardly a question, almost incoherent against the whisper of the leaves above them. He was met with stunned silence.

"Now..?" A soft echo, fingers twisting the engagement ring around his finger over and over. "We don't have the rings-" They never got the chance to buy them.

"Then we'll make use of what we have." Warm hands held him softly, dipping under the neck of his hoodie and pulling up the cord he wore round his neck. Dream's ring. The red jewel shone in the centre, the silver engraving of 'Angel' scripted beneath. They'd got rings with gemstones relating to each other; Dream's was red, Killer's yellow. The ring shone in the sunlight, little rays spilling across the grass beneath them.

The ring tumbled loose with quick work of humble fingers and soon it rested in Dream's palms. He looked to his lover almost shyly, offering. "Put it on me?"

Quivering hands took the ruby ring, nearly dropping it in his weakened mindset. "Oo-oh- of course-" He felt blush stain his cheeks along with the tears that he wore, eyes burning with the prospect of finally being married to the other, even if it were in such a fleeting moment.

He slowly brought the ring to the other, sliding it onto his finger where it had always belonged. "Wwill you marry me?" He almost felt silly asking, the other had already asked him this before, and they'd both said yes. But this time was.. different.

Dream's mouth twitched in a smile and he was sure he could see tears prick at the corners of his eye sockets as he nodded. "Of course. I'll be your husband, for eternity. I hope you feel the same."

"Of course I do-" He mumbled. "For better and for worse." It was meaningless in an official register, but to the two of them, it had been the moment they'd been waiting for.

Dream's breath hitched, hands squeezing his cheeks softly as he tipped the other, kissing him firmly. Killer was fast to press into him, hands trembling as they grasped at his body. They kissed as if it were the last time. Because it was.

It was sweet and slow, no desire to develop into anything more. They wanted to remember each other like this; sweet and pure, complete and happy. Hot tears ran down his cheeks, dripping onto Killer's dark mark, mixing black and gold.

"I- I will always, always love you-" The words were choked as they pulled apart, Killer's breathing ragged and uneven.

Dream smiled faintly. "I know you will. But I- I give you permission.."

Permission to move on, permission to start another life, permission to grow old with someone else, permission to die at his rightful time.

Realistically he knew the other didn't need his permission, but saying it solidified the question they'd both been thinking, lips crashing together once more.

If ever a kiss said 'I love you' and 'goodbye', this was it. Killer shook, his body feeling like it was falling apart in his arms. He felt fragile, but the other knew how strong he was. They would both move on, both blossom from the dreadful blow that had felt them their fate. It was time for a new chapter; a new leaf.

As they pulled away from each other Dream smiled, thumb brushing over his cheek slowly, wanting to savour this final time he'd feel the other in his arms. The last tingling glow of his lips, the ending feel of his fingers gliding across his arms, the terminal whisper of a goodbye at his lips.

As Dream faded from his view he found the strength to smile, his hands slowly falling through empty air until they rested on his lap, cold and empty except for the ring that the angel had worn moments earlier. Dream was gone.

He felt as if a hole should have been torn through his chest, like his world should come crashing apart. But instead warmth blossomed in his soul, and he knew they'd made the right decision.

Turning to look at the box of pills he emptied the remainder on the floor, letting the grass claim them before he picked two flowers. A yellow daffodil, a red tulip. They were small, young, his decision to take them having cut off their growth unexpectedly. Curling the stem he eased them into the pot, letting the flowers curl around each other in a pretty tangle of limbs. It looked as if they were resting, pressed together in an eternal sleep.

Hesitating for only a moment he slipped his ring from his finger, letting it rest in the palm of his ring along with Dream's. He stared at them for a long time, the memory of them spiralling through his skull. Pressing a lingering kiss to their gems, he let them fall into the pot, tangling with the flowers.

Clicking the lid shut felt like a momentous task, yet it was endlessly rewarding. This was the end of an era, the start of a new beginning.

The sun had dipped when Killer decided to leave, the lake glowing with orange fire, yellow buttercups turned golden. A mound of earth lay at the base of the old tree, a capsule full of timeless memories locked away inside where they'd stay set in stone.

The skeleton turned one last time to look back at the tree before his gaze turned up to the sky. The clouds shone yellow, and for a moment he fancied that they looked like wings. Angel wings.

Turning away, Killer smiled and with the whispers of a thousand promises in his mind, he stepped forwards.

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And that is the official end to the Guardian Angel series

I have loved writing this storyline so much, and never thought I'd actually come to a point where I could end it. Yet I thought it was important not to drag out the plot line and instead wrap it up in a Sorrowful yet realistic end.

This has been one of my favourite things to write, though I'll admit my nose is so blocked from crying rn that I can hardly breathe

I hope you've all enjoyed this storyline. Perhaps extra little drabbles will come for these two, but no certainty.

Important: it's exam month for me; as a result updates might stop.

See you next time,

-Jess-