Title: Mad World
Author: EA Karras (email@example.com).
Disclaims: Put on your cringe hat.
Author's Notes: Tara Blue.
Story Notes: Prequel to Mad Love but to be read after. Violence and death of a major character. Grumble grumble. Dammit. You all wanted to know what happened.
His fingers were shaking as he settled into the bath, the steaming hot water
almost burning his flesh as he lay back, taking a deep breath and picking up
Fraser's newly sharpened shaving razor from the towel that lay beside the
He had to do this. Nothing had been right since Fraser had left. /He/ hadn't
been right since then. It was his fault, Fraser's. He'd done this to him.
"You killed me, Fraser..." he whispered, bringing the razor to rest against
the veins of his wrist. He pressed hard, a drop of blood popping free as the
blade just barely punctured his skin.
And then he swore, throwing the razor across the room with a cry. He heard
it clatter against the toilet and bent over, feeling so goddamned stupid.
This whole thing was...idiotic. Killing himself over /Fraser/? God. What the
/hell/ was he thinking? No one was worth that. Not Fraser. Not Stella. No
Slowly, he leaned forward and buried his face in his hands. He needed help.
Fast. He'd actually intended on doing this thing...
Sobbing, his shoulders shook hard. His voice echoed in the small bathroom,
and he didn't hear the door open. Didn't even notice that anyone else was
/in/ the room until he felt the cool hand gently touch his shoulder.
"Fraser?" His voice was hoarse, and he looked up oh so slowly. Not wanting
to see Fraser like this, not wanting Fraser to see him like this. He stared
at the cold eyed figure that was looking down at him. "What..."
He never had a chance to finish the sentence. Hands shoved at him hard,
pushing him down into the tub, under the water. Strong arms pinned him
there, held him even as he thrashed, kicking out desperately. He tried to
land a blow. Tried to prise the fingers off of him.
Ray's lungs were near bursting, his vision filled with bright sparks as he
struggled to free himself. He was not going to die like this. No. No.
He managed to raise up just enough to breathe as his attacker leaned
backwards to retrieve the razor from the floor. "No. No!" he spluttered,
choking on the water. "Fraser!"
A hard hit to the chest, and he was back under the water. Oh /God/. This was
not happening. No...
As his struggles weakened, he felt a slicing motion at his wrist. His eyes
open wide with the pain of it, and blood began to blossom through the still
warm water. The same motion at his other wrist, and he finally screamed.
Took water into his lungs, swallowing. There was too much of it.
And then, as everything began to darken, his attacker...his killer leaned
forward, all dark and beautiful, and kissed his dying lips.