Anakha (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
bluerosedreams) wrote2013-03-05 03:27 pm
bluerosedreams) wrote2013-03-05 03:27 pm
Survivor's Guilt
Title: Survivor's Guilt
Author: Ana
Genre: Angst, AU
Word length: 753
Sypnosis: Surviving a terrible event is even worse when you feel guilty for doing so.
Pairings: None
Notes: Les Mis movie AU with Isa and Lea as Barricade Boys.
No one had asked why he’d come back home instead of staying in the apartment with his friend for so long. They’d assumed that its nearness to the barricades had something to do with it. And it did, in its own way, just not the way they were thinking. He wasn’t getting away from the violence. He was getting away from the trauma as much as he could.
He didn’t care about his studies anymore. Not now, after listening to cannonfire and death. Especially not after standing in the square as the washer women tried to remove the stains and blood from the battle. It almost made him sick—still does, just thinking about it. He clamps a hand to his mouth and fights back the bile as the sickening thoughts rise and batter his mind.
Those were your friends. How come you get to live? Why did he drag you away when Enjolras said to not waste lives? Your blood should have been there, too!
Before he realizes it, his body is shaking. He’s curled in on himself, eyes wide with his hands clapped over his mouth to help fight down the bile that wants to rise. All so he doesn’t vomit on the floor and alert his family to something being wrong—more wrong than they realize, at least. Or maybe they knew already and were just being nice, tip-toeing around the giant elephant looming over them because he’d been through enough. But that was just more insulting in the end, because right now he just wants to scream at everyone who will listen about the good boy who died on the barricade, trying to fight for them and how could they just go about their lives when his friends were—
“Lea.”
He looks up, snapped out of his thoughts to see Isa standing in the doorway. His expression had become colder since the barricades, but Lea can’t really blame him. The knowledge they had could make anyone go numb. But right now, all Lea can feel is rage directed at his old friend—the one who saved his life and condemned him to this unbearable guilt.
“Why did you make me leave!?” he snaps after a moment, his mouth moving faster than his thoughts, “Why did you take me from there!? I should have been with them! Why am I so special that I get to—“
His cheek stings before he even realizes Isa had stomped forward and slapped him. It takes a moment to register anything else, and when he finally comes to his senses both the nausea and the rage has passed. Instead, all he can focus on are the tears streaming down his friend’s face and the hands now placed on his shoulders.
“We’re not special! We’re probably cowards and idiots! But I had to! Because,” Isa chokes back a sob himself, “Because if we didn’t live, then who would remember any of them!?”
Isa is shaking. It occurs to Lea then that maybe his friend had bottled everything up for his sake. That maybe he hadn’t gone numb, he needed to appear strong because Lea had been a complete and total wreck. Isa must have finally been unable to help it. And what’s more, what he said.
Who would remember any of them?
Lea’s blood runs cold as he dwells on that thought. Finally, he places his hands on Isa’s shoulders, mirroring him. He’s crying now, but the urge to vomit doesn’t return with the tears. Instead, he smiles a bit, whispering apologies over and over.
“We’ll live for them, then. And we’ll make sure we never forget them or what they died for,” Lea whispers definitively. Isa nods and smiles, too, and then he shifts to just sit next to Lea for awhile. Even now, the sound of cannonfire and the smell of gunpowder haunts them in the room that is actually silent. Their bodies bear bruises and other wounds, both hidden away beneath their clothes and clear as day—Lea a bullet wound in his right shoulder, Isa a large scar across his face. It would probably always haunt them, Lea figures. The wounds will probably scar, Doctor Ansem had said. Badges of pride to say they had survived the night—he’d been under no illusions as to where they had been, after all.
But Lea’s okay with scars, because scars mean a visible memory and a story to tell of the boys on the barricade who died trying to change the world.
Author: Ana
Genre: Angst, AU
Word length: 753
Sypnosis: Surviving a terrible event is even worse when you feel guilty for doing so.
Pairings: None
Notes: Les Mis movie AU with Isa and Lea as Barricade Boys.
No one had asked why he’d come back home instead of staying in the apartment with his friend for so long. They’d assumed that its nearness to the barricades had something to do with it. And it did, in its own way, just not the way they were thinking. He wasn’t getting away from the violence. He was getting away from the trauma as much as he could.
He didn’t care about his studies anymore. Not now, after listening to cannonfire and death. Especially not after standing in the square as the washer women tried to remove the stains and blood from the battle. It almost made him sick—still does, just thinking about it. He clamps a hand to his mouth and fights back the bile as the sickening thoughts rise and batter his mind.
Those were your friends. How come you get to live? Why did he drag you away when Enjolras said to not waste lives? Your blood should have been there, too!
Before he realizes it, his body is shaking. He’s curled in on himself, eyes wide with his hands clapped over his mouth to help fight down the bile that wants to rise. All so he doesn’t vomit on the floor and alert his family to something being wrong—more wrong than they realize, at least. Or maybe they knew already and were just being nice, tip-toeing around the giant elephant looming over them because he’d been through enough. But that was just more insulting in the end, because right now he just wants to scream at everyone who will listen about the good boy who died on the barricade, trying to fight for them and how could they just go about their lives when his friends were—
“Lea.”
He looks up, snapped out of his thoughts to see Isa standing in the doorway. His expression had become colder since the barricades, but Lea can’t really blame him. The knowledge they had could make anyone go numb. But right now, all Lea can feel is rage directed at his old friend—the one who saved his life and condemned him to this unbearable guilt.
“Why did you make me leave!?” he snaps after a moment, his mouth moving faster than his thoughts, “Why did you take me from there!? I should have been with them! Why am I so special that I get to—“
His cheek stings before he even realizes Isa had stomped forward and slapped him. It takes a moment to register anything else, and when he finally comes to his senses both the nausea and the rage has passed. Instead, all he can focus on are the tears streaming down his friend’s face and the hands now placed on his shoulders.
“We’re not special! We’re probably cowards and idiots! But I had to! Because,” Isa chokes back a sob himself, “Because if we didn’t live, then who would remember any of them!?”
Isa is shaking. It occurs to Lea then that maybe his friend had bottled everything up for his sake. That maybe he hadn’t gone numb, he needed to appear strong because Lea had been a complete and total wreck. Isa must have finally been unable to help it. And what’s more, what he said.
Who would remember any of them?
Lea’s blood runs cold as he dwells on that thought. Finally, he places his hands on Isa’s shoulders, mirroring him. He’s crying now, but the urge to vomit doesn’t return with the tears. Instead, he smiles a bit, whispering apologies over and over.
“We’ll live for them, then. And we’ll make sure we never forget them or what they died for,” Lea whispers definitively. Isa nods and smiles, too, and then he shifts to just sit next to Lea for awhile. Even now, the sound of cannonfire and the smell of gunpowder haunts them in the room that is actually silent. Their bodies bear bruises and other wounds, both hidden away beneath their clothes and clear as day—Lea a bullet wound in his right shoulder, Isa a large scar across his face. It would probably always haunt them, Lea figures. The wounds will probably scar, Doctor Ansem had said. Badges of pride to say they had survived the night—he’d been under no illusions as to where they had been, after all.
But Lea’s okay with scars, because scars mean a visible memory and a story to tell of the boys on the barricade who died trying to change the world.