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As soon as he set his foot down onto the sunlit concrete outside the courthouse, Saparata ran for his life.
He had failed to convince them. He was so certain of his theory, of his accusations, but he just didn’t have enough proof. Simply knowing it in his soul, as clear as the day was bright, just wasn’t enough.
He could hear the countless footsteps echoing behind him, and as strong as the urge was, he couldn’t risk looking back. His heart beat erratically in his chest as he struggled to pull himself up onto a nearby wall. That move managed to deter a good amount of his pursuers, but he had to continue.
He had to keep running.
So, he did. Saparata made his way to the shore, hesitated for only a brief moment before jumping into the waters below, then rowed away in a quickly placed boat.
Only then, could he breathe out a shaky sigh. It wasn’t out of relief. Saps was anything but relieved, but at least now he was far from everyone else.
Or so he thought. He should know better by now, because still, there remained the one shadow he could not shake, the one that haunted him and would surely chase him to the very ends of the world itself if he dared to run that far. The sounds of another pair of paddles hitting the waves behind him was loud in the silence.
He didn’t need to glance around to know who it was.
Thomas.
As if facing him in court wasn’t distressing already, he just had to keep following him, even when every other person had given up.
No, especially because every other person had given up.
He noticed an approaching beach in the distance, and started turning towards it. The moment his boat hit the land, Saps jumped out.
His boots dug into the sand in that initial second of panic, before his entire body stilled as the sound of shuffling drew closer.
Saparata was done running. He spun around to face the person who had tormented his dreams every night since this whole nightmare began.
His gaze landed directly onto those eyes, the same ones that were always so kind. Even as he smiled at him, days ago, when their relationship was unstained by what they all secretly planned to do, even as he testified against him in trial, despite knowing that every word out of his mouth was steeped in lies, and now, even now, the way he looked at Saps was so unsettlingly gentle.
It was brutal. He felt like his heart was being slowly torn from his flesh.
“Saps,” he said with a grin, one that was nothing but mocking.
His instinct was to make a dash for it again, but he wouldn’t. The furthest he let himself go was taking a single step back. “Thomas. Are you here to kill me?”
He blinked, then held out both of his palms, effectively proving absolutely nothing. “No, I’m not. I swear I’m not here to hurt you.”
Saps sneered in response. “Then what? Come to arrest me instead, as if that’s any better? That’s the same as just executing me now and at least sparing my dignity.”
“I won’t do that either,” he protested, “I just…You don’t look well.”
He let out a choked laugh, almost like it was strangled out of him, and it would’ve been embarrassing if only he could bring himself to care. “Really? Tell me something I don’t know.”
Thomas’s shoulders stiffened. “That’s not what I meant, Saps–”
“Don’t. Spare me, Thomas. What do you want?”
“I…I don’t know. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
Some part of him felt guilty at the apology. The rest wanted to gut him alive for the audacity to say that to his face.
“What do you want me to say?” he scowled, “I don’t forgive you. You framed me, and for what? For what purpose? Because Fluixon told you to?”
Thomas flinched. “None of us wanted to.”
“But you did.”
He paused, then muttered, “Yes. I don’t regret it, but I’m sorry that it was you.”
Saps couldn’t help the second round of hysterical giggles that bubbled up his throat. “So is that it? If that’s all you’ve got, then leave me alone.”
Thomas stepped forward abruptly. “Wait, will you take these? Please?”
He unclipped a small pouch from his belt, and in it, were apples that shone golden. As brightly colored as the rays of a dying sun.
Saparata felt sick at the sight of them. His body craved substance, but he couldn’t give in.
Not to him.
“No,” he answered immediately, but it was hollow, uncertain even to his own ears.
“Please, Saps,” he urged again.
No.
No, no, no, no.
He was tired, So, so tired. Every night since the day that set his entire life off balance, he’d gone to sleep unsure of whether he’d wake up the next morning. Every time his eyelids would flutter closed out of fatigue, his mind couldn’t rest, because how could you, when it might very well be the last time you do?
He had a point to prove. To Thomas, to himself.
He wasn’t afraid anymore.
Saparata swiftly drew his sword, and reveled in the way fear briefly flashed across Thomas’s face.
“Saps?” he asked, quietly.
His eyes widened as realization of what he was about to do set in.
Saps didn’t care. He would’ve, once, but now, all he wanted was to see his expression contort in horror as he drove the sharp end straight into his stomach.
The noise it made was nauseating, and the blade slid easily into him.
Pain sprouted from the wound immediately, but he had never felt so free.
“Sap–Saparata!” Thomas yelled, with more alarm than he thought he was capable of.
Saps threw him a smile, one as taunting as the one he was greeted with. He felt his knees buckle, but before he could make contact with the ground, a pair of steady arms intercepted his fall.
Thomas lowered him with caution. Saps tried to search his eyes for something, but he frustratingly kept his gaze trained onto the injury. They were a grotesque mess of blood and flesh and limbs, and it was beautiful. The same way people would pick the flowers they liked, would pick apart the wings of a butterfly to preserve its grace, Saps wanted desperately to see the look of despair that he was the cause of.
“Do you still want to save me?” he spoke, as blood dribbled out of his open mouth.
The hands around him tightened distantly, but Saps could barely feel the impact. It all hurt so badly.
He was dying. At this rate, he really would die.
That was fine. Let Thomas be the witness to his last moments. Saps could make peace with that.
There was another sudden burn, and he looked down to see fingers encircling the grip of the sword.
He chuckled, and coughed. “What are you doing now? Trying to twist the knife further? Haven’t you hurt me enough, Thomas?”
“Don’t tempt me,” he glowered, and it would’ve been much more effective if he didn’t look like he was on the verge of tears.
Saps laughed, again, endlessly. He was so far gone that he didn’t notice what Thomas was doing until it was too late.
The sword was suddenly ripped out of him, leaving him crying out silently, then hands shot up to hold him still by the sides of his head and lips muffled his own. He was kissing him, but the true intent of it was revealed quickly.
The pressure from Thomas’s hands, and tongue, eventually forced his mouth open, and he could only squirm as pieces of chewed apples were forced down his throat.
It was disgusting. Dehumanizing. Saps had never wanted to die so much before, but now he was denied even that.
With every mixture of mushed fruit and saliva that traveled down his body, his wound, his skin began to patch itself back together.
Even when there was nothing left, after he had been made to swallow every bit that was in Thomas’s mouth, he still didn’t let him go. Almost as if it was punishment for stabbing himself, he kept him there, their lips moving against each other as Saps felt his mind go foggy at the lack of oxygen.
Disgusting. Thomas was a vile, cruel creature.
But Saps still couldn’t bring himself to struggle against him.
He still couldn’t bring himself not to love him, and everything that he was. Even after everything he had done.
Then finally, finally he was released.
Saps fell backwards, his hands darting out to catch himself as he tried to breathe. In, and out. In and out. In and out. In and out and in and out and in and out and–
The sound of shuffling snapped him out of his trance. Thomas had stood up, bloody sword in hand. He didn’t look down at him.
Saps felt some satisfaction knowing that he was also ashamed of himself. At least the suffering was mutual.
There was so much at the tip of his tongue, so much that he had to say, but the foul taste that the interaction had left was too much.
“I’m leaving,” Thomas stated, simply, “Take care of yourself.”
Right. He really should, lest he try to force feed him again next time.
Saps stared in silence as Thomas stumbled over to his boat, which he had forgotten to break in the hurry he was in, and started to row away. He saw something interesting in his observations, however.
Thomas had left his pack of golden apples by his side. He had also taken his only good sword.
Saps felt a strong urge to curl into himself.
He was still so tired, after all, he had never felt so alone.