SILENT HILL ONESHOTS.

What Is Love?

James had thought he'd known was love was. He'd been married after all, and he'd loved his wife— or so, he had thought.

But months had passed since the events of Silent Hill. A place filled with dark memories, which had cared to forget. Push aside. It had been a place full of misery, loss, and agony. So, when he had met Harry Mason, the novelist searching for a little girl, he was utterly confused.

"You know she's dead." James would tell Harry, persistently. He didn't know why, and perhaps it had been a bit blunt for two strange men who had just met.

But Harry would always pause. He'd get this look in his eyes; something James couldn't place. He'd crane his neck to look at the blond, giving a pathetic excuse for a smile and simply saying, "I know. But I have to do something."

James' chest would feel a pang. He'd felt the same way, searching for Mary. His wife. His life partners. His spouse. And he had taken her life from her. How could he? Harry just walked on ahead of the man, unknowing, that he was a murderer. He felt guilt spread across his chest, down his gut. A sick twist of pain.

Somehow, though, in the midst of this foggy, unforgiving town Harry would make the time to check on James. To give him a smile. To talk about his normal life, as if either of them could go back to their normal lives. The brunet would always seemingly try to find the best in things. The irony left a sour taste in James' mouth.

"You already know what I did before... well, here. But what did you do, James?" Harry would ask one day, after introducing James to a young woman whose name he didn't care to learn. Her outfit was almost comical; it was clear she was a nurse, but her attire was something straight out of a cliché horror film. Skimpy and maybe a bit off-putting. It wasn't all that far off from the nurse creatures James had also had a run in with.

"Me?" He'd blink. There would be a long pause, as both men would stare at each other. Harry's face soon to flush some, in embarrassment.

"You don't have to tell me. But since you've decided to tag along, I was hoping to get to know each other a little better–"

Another pause from James. Processing. He didn't deserve such kindness. Silent Hill was made to punish him for all the terrible things he'd done. Mary. Laura. Eddie. Angela. Though, he'd finally answer. "I was an office clerk. Nothing fancy."

Harry would also pause. Shorter, however. Seemingly thankful James spared him the embarrassment. "Really? That does not seem fitting for you, James Sunderland." A chuckle would fall past his lips.

The blond's heart fluttered, there. Instinctually, he wanted to protect Harry. Such purity in a place like this. How was that even possible? It wasn't! It just didn't make sense!

James had never considered it from Harry's perspective, either though. Who was this man? Hunched over, eyes shadowed, and quiet. Like there was something eating away at him. James hadn't looked in a mirror since— well, since right before he'd entered Silent Hill. His scruff was longer now, eyes sunken in from lack of sleep. Blond hair turned dull, almost grey in the foggy light. His clothes stained and torn in some places.

It wasn't pity Harry felt, but genuine worry. But was this just another test? Another person for him to lose? James was strong, that much was sure. He could go from being lost in his own thoughts, to slaying whatever creatures came near them, like there was no tomorrow. It was feral, almost. Like a primal sort of rage and spite that fueled him. It should have scared Harry, but... he found himself welcoming it. He and James would escape this place. He would make sure of it.

"When we get out of here... I need a damn drink." James would chuckle, one morning or night. Who even really knew? It blended together, now. James would even crack a small smile, the corner of his lip twitching upwards.