Ahem.

Oops, I did it again.

TW: death, blood, grief, slight s/icidal/self destructive ideology(??) please tell me if I should add more

They are running until they aren't anymore.

Keefe's feet beat the ground in an unsteady rhythm, his breath coming in gasps as he pushes himself harder, harder, farther.

They have to get away. He has to get away. He can't go back with them—

(put a finger down for every time you haven't been enough)

Fitz is slightly ahead of him, pulling further ahead as they race away from their pursuers. His dark hair is tousled by the wind, and there is blood running down his arm from a close call. 

Keefe wants to sob and scream and squeeze his eyes shut. But he can't. He has to keep running. They have to keep running.

God, his lungs are burning—

(put a finger down for all the lost moments you can't get back)

It happens in a blink. 

Fitz looks back.

Looks back, and meets Keefe's eyes.

But Keefe isn't looking at him. He's looking at the fog pooling at their feet. He's looking at the ground, the way it drops away, the way Fitz's feet are still moving and he isn't looking at where he's stepping and—

(put a finger down for every time you moved too fast)

It happens in a blink. Fitz is running until he isn't anymore.

Keefe leaps forward as quickly as possible, lunging, praying, heart pounding.

His hand grasps for a hand, but all he reaches is empty air.

Their fingers brush, the very tips.

But he is too far, too late, too weak.

And the last thing he sees is a pair of terrified teal eyes. 

He shouldn't have had time to commit the moment to memory. But his stupid photographic memory did, and the moment replays in his head: one step too far. One whisper too late. One word, formed at Fitz's lips. (maybe it was "stop" or "no" or "wait". or maybe it was "Keefe". he'll never know)

One last time seeing his face...

Before he falls.

(put a finger down for every failure, every lost chance, every word that should never have been said)

Down and down and down and further and further until he's out of sight, plunging through the fog.

And then Fitz is gone forever.

And it's all his fault.

All his fault.

(put a finger down for every impulsive action that ends in tragedy)

Disappearing down, down into the murky canyon, down to land on the rocks at the bottom, too exhausted to levitate, too surprised to scream.

All he can do is watch. Watch. Watch.

And he is the one screaming.

(put a finger down for all the tears people have shed over you)

He screams, but he wants to cry.

It should be raining right now, washing away the grief that Keefe is suddenly drowning in.

It should be stormy, the thunder matching the roaring in his head.

(put a finger down for each person who shakes their head and turns away)

It flashes through his head over and over again; the terrified look in Fitz's eyes. The way his hand reaches out, desperately searching for something to hold. The weightless way he hovers over the edge for a split second, as if he can fly.

As if time has frozen and Keefe can make it there in time to save him—

But then the moment continues and so does Fitz, falling over and over and down and down and down and gone.

Gone.

(put a finger down for each...

sigh...)

mistake...)

joke gone wrong...)

lesson you shouldn't have had to learn)

And Keefe is ready to take the step forward and over to follow (he has always been too ready to be reckless) but he hesitates because he is exhausted too and levitation might not be very reliable in his current state of mind.

He has always been too reckless. Too impulsive, tending to answer errors with another. He wants to hurl himself over the edge like he always has before (for him, for her, for them, and for the lost wishes that were never answered). 

He is wild right now with the loss of him. He can't not sure if he won't just... take the leap over, and let himself fall.

Let himself fall.

(put a finger down...

for every time you've lost someone you should have saved...)

And maybe he doesn't want to see the way Fitz landed.

(...for every time you can't take something back...)

And then there is a storm, even though it is a perfectly sunny day. This storm is inside of him. Rain crashes against his lungs, wind whips at his bones, fog blinds his eyes, and Keefe breaks.

And breaks, and breaks, and breaks.

(...for every time you can't hold yourself back...)

(...for all the jokes that hit too close to home)

He broke too many times, and now there is no part of him that is not shattered.

(put a finger down for all the pieces of yourself you have scattered into too many hearts)

He does not have enough fingers to count all of his mistakes.

(put a finger down...

...for every time you take one step too far and find there's no one left to catch you)

ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh