And so here they were.


"What do you want, Tony?"

The sound of his own name in that voice made him flinch, and then made him angry. Nothing and no one should affect him like this.

"I've had enough, Jonathan."

"Enough of what?" He looked genuinely confused.

The shadow from the bridge overhead cast an unearthly shadow over his face. They had met up on that riverbank before. It was a nice place for a secluded picnic.

Fuck sentimentality.

The knife looked oddly dull in the gloom.

"Tony, what the fuck?" There was fear in his eyes.

Anger-hatred-despair-possessiveness-frustration-fear-attraction-disgust-pain-affection-confusion. It was a blur.

All feelings would go unrealised, meaningless. Now they had finally forced him to succumb to them they had no worth, no purpose. Bastard.

"Tony –"

"Shut up."

One lurch. Straight in the chest.

Jonathan made a single soft sound like a drowning hiccup.

The knife scraped bone as it passed between ribs. Soft yet firm fleshy resistance jerked over the blade, jolting to a stop at the hilt.

It was over.

The body slumped awkwardly at the knees and waist, the shoulders and neck drooping before finally falling to one side. Blood began to soak into the fabric closest to the wound. Glassy eyes stared into nothing.

Well, fuck.

He rolled the body into the water, along with the knife. Maybe now he could have that one last emotional thing to rid himself of the rest – closure.

The darkness seemed depressed and oppressive.

He wondered if Jonathan had ever heard of pathetic fallacy.

It should have been raining.

A/N: Latest edit: September 2016. This story goes down in my personal history as the most edited story I have available, to date. The amount of cuts mean that it would now fit nicely as a one-shot, but I'm unwilling to delete chapters from here in order to restructure it as they would remove the old reviews with them.