Their Little Beauty (MxMxM+)

Chapter Seventy: You+Us=Forever

He could feel that something was wrong the moment he got out of the taxi. It was not the slightly ajar front door, nor the observation that every light in the home was off. It was that Jesse had not sped out of the front door to meet him, practically climbing up his body and wrapping their limbs around him in a hug so tight it ached. That was their daily ritual.

It made Briar scared to go inside. And yet, this was a dream, so his feet carried him inside anyway. Past the threshold he went, stepping further and further into the dark interior of his home. It was so eery, unlit and lacking the warmth of his lovers.

"B-Briar" a voice called, and it sent spikes of cool ice into his heart. He knew that voice, but not the tone it was spoken in. The little fox had never sounded so... meek before.

Upon walking through the kitchen however, and entering the Living Room, he understood their quiet voice. There they lay, in a room with damaged furniture, their body a heap of blood and shards of glass from the broken coffee table.

"Jesse! Jesse, oh fuck, Jesse" he cried out, sliding to his knees aside them, uncaring of the glass or blood. Briar sought out the wounds upon their rapidly cooling body, growing more and more fearful as multiple came into sight. Jesse had been... stabbed? Who? Why? What kind of person would hurt someone so sweet and kind?

"Y-you're home..." they smiled; teeth stained red and lips quivering with tremors. A small and pale hand reached up to the crying boy's cheek, holding him so very weakly. "I thought I'd d-die alone," they whispered tearfully.

"You're not gonna die!" he screamed, frantically feeling his pockets for a phone that did not exist. "C'mon... where the fuck is it?!".

"Be careful. He'll b-be back. You need to g-go...".

"Who? Who'll be back? Hey, open your eyes. J-Jesse? No... no!" he screamed, shaking their limp body. But when that small and pale hand slipped from his face, landing on their mutilated torso, he knew... Jesse was gone.

"You should've just listened to me, Bri. Then this wouldn't have happened".

Standing in the archway to the kitchen, where Briar and his lovers had stood many times before, was Harlow. His eyes and the metal glint within his hand were the only things illuminated in the whole room. And all that was heard for a few still moments were the drips coming from the wet knife in his hand, blood seeping into the hardwood flooring.

Jesse's blood. Harlow had... he was... he'd k-killed...

"Devon! Quinn! Q-Quick, c-call the police!" he screamed, wondering where they were. Why hadn't they come when he'd screamed, or when Jesse was being attacked?

"Shh. They'll be back any minute. Then we can greet them together".

And right on time, Briar heard car doors in the driveway along with the low murmur of chatting. They were home.

"No... no! D-don't touch them, please! WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME?! WHAT DID I DO WRONG?!".

Suddenly, the man haunting him was crouched right in front of his face, the knife in hand brought so close to Briar's face the stench of blood and metal made him gag. He pulled Jesse closer, needing to keep them safe in death, even if he had been unable to in life.

"If you had just listened... they wouldn't all be dead".

"All? What do you-".

They were there. All around the room, in various stages of death. Stephen took his last breath right afore Briar's eyes, choking on the liquid suffocating his lungs. Quinn was decomposing in the corner, as a heap of horrific smelling fluids. And D-Devon hung over the back of the sofa lifelessly, rivulets of red dripping from his outstretched hand. Every friend Briar had made, every co-worker he'd met... they were all... because he...