Chapter Text
Twilight looms over the farm, the evening sky mottled with deep purples and dark blues like an ugly bruise. Memory and Thought circle high above them, their squawks providing the soundtrack as the five of them exit the farmhouse and step out onto the porch. Odin looks up and sees black storm clouds gathering off in the distance.
“That doesn’t look good,” Bob says, inclining his head towards the horizon.
“No, it doesn’t,” Odin says, flipping up his eyepatch to get a better view. “Hopefully the rain holds off until we’re done here. Fried equipment is the last thing we need.”
Tor’s holding his Mjölnir replica by its leather-wrapped handle as he walks next to Odin, the hefty steel head resting on top of his shoulder. There’s still a ‘no hammers in the studio’ rule after Tor destroyed Odin’s amp cabinet a couple of years ago, but it goes with them whenever they tour. He carries it out on stage, swings it around, works the crowd into a frenzy before Odin makes his grand entrance. These days, Thor’s Mighty Hammer is as important to their image as Odin’s eyepatch.
“Incoming,” Tor says, lifting his hammer to point off in the distance.
A single shade lopes towards them, sledgehammer held out to the side, dragging against the ground. Cynthia doesn’t hesitate, turns on her flashlight and aims it at the shade, blinding it. Daisy stands next to Cynthia and raises the rifle to her shoulder, clicks off the safety, aims, and fires. The shot hits the shade square in the forehead and it dissipates in seconds.
“Hells bells, Odin,” Daisy says, turning to look at him, eyes wide and full of fear. “Those are the things we’re fighting?” She shudders. “It’s like it crawled right out of my nightmares.”
Odin puts a reassuring hand on her shoulder and gives her a little squeeze.
“Stick with Cynthia and keep your distance from them. Stay in the light. You can do this. This nightmare’s almost over.”
Daisy and Cynthia bound up the stairs as Tor, Bob and Odin pause by the side of the stage. The Old Gods form a huddle, arms wrapped around one another’s shoulders, foreheads pressed together. They take three synchronized deep breaths and each lets out a whooping cry as they break the circle. It’s their pre-show ritual, been doing it for years, and that’s not about to change tonight, even with all the evil in Bright Falls bearing down upon them.
There’s a nervous energy in the air as the band approach their instruments, the stage illuminated in harsh white light. Tor sets the hammer down next to his drum kit and settles onto the seat. Odin and Bob pick up their guitars, feedback whining and crackling as they plug in the cables connected to their amplifiers. Cynthia and Daisy stand by the table at the back of the stage, taking a last minute inventory of the boxes of ammo and magazine clips.
Odin struts over to his microphone and sings a line, makes sure he can hear himself clearly in the sound amplified by the floor monitors in front of him. There’s no audience, no adoring fans to impress with his tightly controlled vocals, but he still wants - needs - to find his pitch. Every note has to be perfect to maximize the music’s power. He flexes his right hand, still sore and painful from last night’s altercation with Hartman, but it’ll hold up. It has to.
Memory and Thought alight on the stage in front of him and hop up and down, cawing. Odin smiles at his wise messengers, recalls how they brought him back from the brink in the dead of the night and gave him a new song. Their presence, their guidance, is a welcome comfort.
Thunder booms in the distance as the storm clouds roll closer.
The hairs on the back of Odin’s neck stand on end as he turns towards his bandmates, moonshine and magic coursing through his veins. The three of them look at one another, all kitted out in their battle armor, ready to wage war against the darkness devouring this town. Odin flips his eyepatch back into place. He nods at his brother and Tor whoops, starts counting down from three.
The opening guitar riff comes howling through the amplifier and Memory and Thought take flight, twirling up through the chill night air. It’s one of their older songs, a fan favorite, full of energy to pump up the crowd and set the tone for the evening. Odin steps on his distortion pedal and places his hands on the fretboard and strings of his bass, waits for his cue.
Tor’s drums crash behind him and music flows through Odin’s mouth and fingers as he begins to sing and play. The rhythm reverberates through him, the low growl of his bass contrasting with the high falsetto of his voice as he sings the first verse and it sounds divine.
Odin closes his eyes and feels the music swirling around him, focuses the intention behind his words, the desire to draw the shades towards them like moths to a flame.
It f*cking works.
The Taken arrive slowly at first, lumbering towards the stage, Daisy’s semi-automatic rifle easily dispatching them as Cynthia’s spotlight holds them in stasis. The two women dance around each other, shouting instructions, movements awkward at first but quickly becoming more choreographed as they stun and shoot, stun and shoot.
Memory and Thought soar above the battlefield as the shades grow in number. They dive-bomb the monsters, raking at their faces with sharp claws, distracting them long enough to give Daisy and Cynthia some breathing room to reload.
The band keeps playing, the shades keep coming and the guns keep firing.
They’re on their sixth song when Cynthia runs up to Odin’s right side and starts gesturing wildly towards the distance. He’s half-blind with the eyepatch on, can’t see anything to the left of the stage, Daisy and Cynthia only visible when they’re working the spotlight to his right. Odin turns towards his left and squints, follows the direction of Cynthia’s hand.
Her spotlight pierces the night, illuminating the edge of the far field and the mob of Taken trudging right towards them.
The buzzing in his head reaches a fever pitch, then, and a jagged sliver of pain impales his battle armor, lancing his heart. Zane is nearly there, so close to typing the final words that will rip him from Odin’s arms and erase himself from this world. Odin staggers back from the microphone stand and turns to face Tor and Bob, the rising wind whipping at his long leather coat.
“It’s time,” Odin says. “We play the song now.”
Tor smacks his drumsticks high in the air as he starts the countdown.
The power they felt in studio is nothing compared to the raw energy that arcs between them as Children of the Elder God comes roaring to life on the stage. Bob is on fire, fingers flying across the fretboard as he plays the opening solo, the notes accentuated by the crack of Daisy’s rifle.
Warriors, torchbearers, come redeem our dreams
Shine a light upon this night of otherworldly fiends
Odin’s might be your guide divorce you from the sane
Hammer’s way will have its say, rise up in their names
Odin can’t help but grin when he hears Tor unleash a boisterous cry at the mention of his hammer. Odin didn’t understand the significance when he was writing it, but he knows now that this is a rallying song, their rallying song, exactly what they need to protect Zane as he saves them all.
Oh, Memory and Thought
Jet black and clawed
His ravens soar through the air as he sings their names, claws outstretched. They plunge towards the approaching horde, ripping and scratching at faces and outstretched limbs.
Odin’s opening his mouth to sing the rest of the chorus when he sees a hulking shade pluck one of the ravens out of the air as it dives past. He feels the sickening crunch as the monster wrenches its fist around the raven’s neck, snapping the delicate bones within.
The shade flings the raven’s lifeless body to the ground and resumes lurching towards the stage.
The remaining raven screeches as it swoops down to claw and peck at the Taken that killed its twin, Odin screaming at it to fly away, but it’s too late. There’s so many shades now, too many for Cynthia’s spotlights to snare, and Odin’s heart seizes when another colossal monster snatches the bird out of the sky and crushes its neck within its fist.
Despair tears through Odin as he stares out at the army of nightmares before them, drawing closer with no end in sight. He’s stopped playing, stopped singing, just stands there as terror squeezes his heart like a vise. He hears Bob call his name and begins to turn when he spies a tendril of pure darkness racing through the sky towards him.
There’s a burst of unimaginable pain as the black smoke burrows into Odin’s right eye, tunneling straight through to his brain. He sinks to his knees, blinded, screaming in agony. Swirling nightmares surround him as all sound fades away. He’s drowning again, the darkness pulling him under, lungs gasping for air as frigid brackish water pours down his throat. He paws uselessly at his neck, choking, his nightmare repeating itself, except there’s no children of the Elder God to save him this time.
Let me in, Odin, the darkness in his head croons. So much pain burdening such a small, fragile heart. I can take it all away, make you feel whole, complete.
Odin feels hands grabbing at him, shaking him. He screams again, strains against the bonds holding him tight, but it’s not enough - he’s not strong enough - as he sinks deeper and deeper into the abyss.
I can bring him to you, the voice continues. When I Take him, after I’ve Taken you, I promise you will be together, warm in my embrace for all eternity.
It’s all he wants. God, how it’s all he wants: to hold Tom’s hand in his own as their skin grows wrinkled and paper thin; to make the most beautiful music together, the poetry of Tom’s words combined with the raw emotion of Odin’s voice; to hear a lifetime of I love you’s whispered in his ear; to stare into those perfect blue eyes and see all the joy and desire in the world reflected back at him.
Tom. He wants Tom. He wants the promise of this future that’s been stolen from them.
That’s it, the voice whispers as his resolve shatters. More tendrils slip through the cracks, worming their way into his mind. I can give it all to you if you’ll just let me in.
Odin’s body goes limp as the cold darkness washes over him, through him, takes him over. His eyelids flutter and begin to close when he sees it.
There’s a spark in the inky blackness before him, the smallest pinprick of light.
Odin’s eyes fly open and he stares at that bright spot, the tiniest glimmer of hope. A memory comes to him, a promise he made this morning when he was wrapped in his lover’s embrace, their bodies sweat-soaked and intertwined. A promise to be strong, to not follow Tom over the cliff of desperation.
It’s a promise he had every intention of keeping when he made it and it’s a promise he intends to keep now.
Radiant white light blooms inside his chest as he steels himself and pushes back against the invasive force in his mind. He thinks of his family, his best friend, the people who love him and depend on him, the people he vowed to keep safe. The voice in his head screams as the light races through his body, burning away the darkness consuming his soul. Odin surges up from the bottomless depths of the cursed lake, the bright presence within his heart propelling him towards the light.
Odin crashes back into his body and opens his eyes, relief cascading through him as his right eye registers Tor and Bob standing over him, faces white and panicked. The water’s gone from his throat, his lungs, but he still coughs and heaves.
“Jesus, bro, what the f*ck just happened? I felt something in there with you,” Tor says, pointing to his head.
“Long story,” Odin says. He takes Bob’s hand and allows himself to be pulled up to standing.
The darkness is gone, but the dull ache behind Odin’s right eye remains.
Gunfire erupts to his right, Daisy shooting off five rounds before the magazine clicks empty. Cynthia repositions the spotlight and picks up the rifle at her feet, drops another shade as Daisy goes to reload the magazines.
“Odin, you have to do something,” Cynthia pants as she racks another round into the rifle’s chamber. “There’s too many of them. We can’t keep this up for much longer!”
“Tom is nearly there, we just need to give him a few more minutes.” Odin turns and looks at Tor and Bob. “Play the song again, from the second verse.”
There’s something different, this time, as he opens his mouth to sing. The brightness that saved him is still there, flowing through him, filling the void left by the deaths of his ravens. The buzzing in his head is so loud now, almost overwhelming and he knows they are so close to the end. The light coats his heart like resin, fending off the immense grief that threatens to pull him back under when he thinks about what comes next, what he has to do after he leaves this stage.
But first, he has to ensure they all leave this stage alive.
Scratching hag, you can rake your claws
and gnash your crooked teeth
You’ve taken slaves like ocean waves
now feel the ocean seethe
The words are barely past Odin’s lips when he senses the water coalescing beneath the stage. He can’t see it, couldn’t possibly begin to explain it, yet another inexplicable thing on a night filled with inexplicable things. He concentrates on the water as he continues to sing, draws energy from the white light burning hot within his chest.
Father Thor, bless this war, between the dark and the light
In their songs let their wrongs bring dissolution’s night
The water flows out from beneath the stage, illuminated by the bright lights. It’s a trickle first, then a steady stream, then a roaring tsunami. It knocks down the army in front of them, sweeping them off their feet, but the reprieve doesn’t last long. The nightmares regain their footing and charge forward through the flood, their bodies parting the water like shark fins.
Odin hears a scream behind him followed by the sound of Daisy’s rifle. He closes his eyes and concentrates harder, envisions the water getting higher and higher, as high as the stage, but even then he knows it won’t be enough, that they’ll just keep coming for them, will walk through the water, fully submerged, to get to them if they have to.
Oh, Memory and Thought
Jet black and clawed
Children of the Elder God
Scourge of light upon the dark
They’re on the final line of the song when thunder rumbles overhead, the storm clouds upon them, hanging low and heavy in the sky. Odin stops singing, blinks in confusion when Tor’s drumming comes to an abrupt end and he sees movement out of the corner of his eye.
Odin takes a step back from the microphone, turns his head to watch as Tor charges across the stage, Mjölnir held high in the air. Tor leaps off the edge, hurtles through the air as if buoyed by hurricane-force winds. He soars above the flood, a guttural war cry escaping his throat, as loud and fierce as the thunder itself.
Lightning arcs from the ugly dark clouds above them, jagged and impossibly bright, sparks flying when it strikes the hammer gripped in Tor’s hand. The bolt splits, fragments of light shooting off to impact the water below.
The electric current skitters across the roiling surface and the Taken turn to ash, one by one.
Odin watches in horror as Tor’s limp body falls through the air and hits the water with a splash, then disappears beneath the surface.
“TOR!” Odin screams.
He rips the guitar strap off his shoulders, his bass clattering to the stage. He shrugs out of his heavy coat, tears off his eyepatch, takes a step back then jumps.
The flood waters begin to recede as Odin dives off the stage. He swims over to the spot where he saw Tor go under, flails his arms about until he hits something solid. He grabs Tor’s unconscious body, wraps his arms around Tor’s chest as he plants his feet on solid ground. The water’s gone in seconds, flowing out from the farm towards Cauldron Lake and Odin hopes, prays, no one gets swept up in its fury.
The sky opens up as Odin lowers his brother to the muddy ground, rain pelting his back. Cynthia trains the spotlight on them, illuminating the surrounding area in bright light. He places his fingers against Tor’s neck. His pulse is there, erratic, but definitely there and he chokes back a sob.
“Tor? Hey, bro, talk to me, buddy,” Odin says. He leans down and puts his ear over Tor’s mouth, his palm on Tor’s chest.
Tor’s not f*cking breathing.
He won’t - he can’t - lose Tor too, not tonight.
Odin tips his brother’s head back, chin pointed skyward and checks again to see if he’s breathing.
Tor’s chest lies flat, unmoving.
Odin pinches his brother’s nose and leans down, breathes into his mouth. First one breath, then another, still nothing.
Bob sinks to his knees next to them and Odin looks up, meets his gaze, eyes wide with fear.
“Daisy?” Odin screams behind him as the storm rages above them. “Please call an ambulance, now!”
Odin leans down again, forces air into his brother’s inanimate chest. He lifts his head to take his own breath when Tor opens his eyes and gasps, sputtering as he coughs up water.
“Tor! Tor, can you hear me?” Odin frames his brother’s face with his hands. Tor blinks his eyes against the rain and looks up at him.
“That,” Tor says, voice ragged, “was f*cking awesome, bro. Did you see that sh*t? I f*cking smited their asses.”
Odin laughs as tears of relief stream down his face, mixing with the rain. He playfully smacks his brother’s cheek.
“Yeah, man, your hammer finally came in useful. Imagine that,” Odin says.
“My god, Tor, are you all right? I saw the lightning through the window. That was quite the dramatic finale.”
Odin closes his eyes at the sound of Zane’s voice. He was too focused on Tor, too filled with worry to notice the buzzing in his head stopped. Zane’s hand grips Odin’s shoulder and Odin reaches up to cover Zane’s hand with his own, rubs his thumb across warm, wet skin.
“I’m the god of thunder and lightning, of course I’m okay,” Tor says with a cackle. His laughter quickly devolves into a coughing fit. “Augh, sh*t, maybe not.” He holds his hand up against the torrential downpour striking his face. “Let’s get out of this goddamn rain.”
Bob grabs Tor’s hands and pulls him up to standing, then places Tor’s arm around his shoulders and grips him tight as they hobble towards the farmhouse.
Odin rocks back onto his heels and shoots upwards. He turns and pulls Zane to him, their lips meeting as rain cascades down and thunder rumbles above.
“Hi,” Odin says, leaning back to gaze into Zane’s eyes. They’re exhausted and rimmed with red and still absolutely gorgeous.
“Hello, love,” Zane says. He gives Odin a weak smile as he cups his cheek.
“Is it done?”
Zane nods.
“It is done. I need a few minutes to say goodbye, then we must be on our way.”
Odin clasps Zane’s hand as they turn and walk towards the farmhouse to rejoin the group on the porch. Tor sits on the worn planks, two blankets wrapped around his shoulders, Daisy crouched next to him and holding him tight. Cynthia and Bob stand behind them, huddled together under a blanket.
“I called the Sheriff’s Department. The paramedics are on their way,” Daisy says, looking up at Odin.
“Thank you, Daisy. For everything. You too, Cynthia,” Odin says.
Cynthia gives Odin a tight smile, her eyes welling with tears as she turns her attention back to Zane.
“I’ll go get the keys,” Odin says to Zane.
His pants and boots are covered in mud and Odin tracks it all over the floor as he walks into the house, but that’s a problem for later. After. He snags the keys from the side table and returns to Zane’s side. He picks up a blanket from the pile next to Tor and folds it over his arm.
It’s cowardly, he knows, but he can’t bear to watch Zane say goodbye.
“I’m going to wait in the truck,” Odin says. He leans down and kisses the top of his brother’s head. “Don’t fight with the paramedics, Tor. Let them take care of you, please. For me.”
Tor coughs and weakly pats Odin’s arm.
“Odin?”
Odin looks down at his brother. His eyes are wet, whether from the rain or tears, he can’t tell, but the sadness in them is deep and absolute.
“I’m sorry,” Tor says.
Odin nods, unable to respond, and jogs down the stairs and out into the cold rain. He wrenches the driver’s side door open and starts the engine, blasts the heater. He shivers, practically shirtless in the sheer mesh top, and wraps the blanket around himself.
He wills his brain to shut off as he sits there, the rain striking the roof a deafening cacophony. He pulls the blanket tight around his shoulders as he waits for heat to fill the cab. He peeks at the rearview mirror, sees the rain-blurred forms of Cynthia slumped in Zane’s arms and immediately closes his eyes.
An indeterminate amount of time passes - two minutes, three, five - before Odin hears the passenger door open. He looks over as Zane slides onto the bench seat next to him, sits close enough so their legs are touching. Odin removes the blanket and tosses it onto the seat beside Zane.
“Ready?” Odin says.
Zane swallows hard and nods.
There’s silence between them as Odin navigates the truck down the driveway, tires kicking up wet gravel, the two poets struck dumb by the enormity of this moment. Odin begs his brain to think of something, anything to say, but he’s so f*cking distracted by the incessant thrum of his racing heart, the maddening prattle of the rain against the roof. Besides, what words could possibly fill the void left by a lifetime of stolen conversations?
Zane presses himself up against Odin as he turns onto the main road. He slips his hand under Odin’s shirt, holds it tight against his chest right above his heart.
“Odin, darling, your heart is pounding.”
Odin thinks of Tor falling through the air, the snapping of bones as his ravens died, how close he was to giving in, to letting the darkness take him over, so desperate to avoid the pain of what they are about to do. Adrenaline rages through him, still high from the most important performance of his life, the raw energy mixing with grief and love and lust for the man seated next to him. He feels the pressure building behind his eyes, every emotion he’s held at bay for the last hour begging for release.
“I can’t,” Odin says, voice breaking. “It’s too much,”
“Shh, shh, don’t talk, I’ve got you,” Zane says.
Zane places his other hand on the back of Odin’s neck, rubs his thumb into the tense muscle. Odin sighs and leans his head back as the knotted fibers loosen under Zane’s grip. He moves his hand from the gear shifter to Zane’s thigh, needing to touch him, to feel him beneath his fingers.
They’ve only been driving for a minute, maybe two, when lights flash up ahead and Odin slows as a police car and ambulance speed past them towards the farmhouse.
“Oh, thank god,” Odin says.
“Tor’s going to be just fine,” Zane says, lips next to Odin’s ear.
The rain beats against the windshield as Odin steps on the accelerator and clutch, then shifts into a higher gear. The truck surges forward, the road before them now barely visible, the wipers unable to keep up with the onslaught of water bearing down on them.
“Odin, love, you can slow down. I don’t know what you did on that stage but I felt the darkness recede - temporarily, at least. You’ve bought us some time.”
“What do you…” Odin starts to say, but the words fall away as Zane presses his lips upon his neck and brushes his thumb across his nipple. Zane’s mouth and tongue dance along his jaw, so hot against his cold, damp skin. A soft moan escapes him when Zane gently bites down on his earlobe, flicks it with his tongue.
Odin’s brain empties as Zane’s hand inches down his chest towards his abdomen. He knows that’s exactly why Zane is doing this, this shared overwhelming desire to get out of their heads, to not think about how this is both the first and last time they’ll ride together in Odin’s truck. He shifts in his seat, his pants becoming uncomfortably tight under the devout attention of Zane’s lips and hands.
“Oh, f*ck,” Odin says, smacking his fist into the steering wheel as Zane traces the outline of his co*ck with his fingers, then flattens his hand and presses down, hard, with his palm. Odin’s hips buck involuntarily, seeking more friction, aching to grind against Zane’s touch. He swallows and forces his eyes to stay on the road, Zane’s fingers and palm teasing him, tiny bubbles of pleasure bursting with every little application of pressure.
“I just love watching you come undone before me, Odin,” Zane says, chuckling against his neck, “seeing what my hands, my mouth can do to you.”
Odin slides his fingers up Zane’s inner thigh to grasp his lover’s own growing erection.
“The feeling’s mutual, sweetie.”
He’s rewarded with a loud groan as he slips his hand below the worn elastic waistband and runs his fingers along Zane’s delicate foreskin.
The minutes fly by despite the truck’s slow speed, their words and ministrations growing more and more frantic as they turn onto the road leading to Diver’s Isle and Zane’s destruction. Odin emits a string of curses as Zane unzips his pants, freeing his leaking co*ck, and he doesn’t know if he’s ever been this hard, this horny, this desperate for someone else’s touch.
They’re nearly there, just a quarter mile to the pull-off, maybe less, when Zane breaks away to strip off his boots and sweatpants. The moment Odin’s been dreading this entire f*cking day is nearly here and all he can think about is watching Zane’s face contort in pleasure as he comes.
Zane is in his lap the second Odin puts the truck in park, his back wedged against the steering wheel and feet planted against the seat on either side of him.
“Wait, wait, hold on,” Odin says. He wraps his arms around Zane and slides over, moves them to the center of the bench, giving them more room.
The silver chains around Odin’s neck jangle as Zane tears at his shirt, rips the mesh garment over his head and tosses it to the floor, Zane’s own soaked t-shirt joining it a moment later.
Zane leans back and braces himself against the dash, lifts his hips so Odin can wrestle his muddy leather pants out of the way and down past his knees.
Their bodies crash together, rain-soaked and shivering, mouths meeting in a flurry of eager lips and hungry tongues. Odin scoots his ass forward to the edge of the bench, giving Zane enough room to wraps his legs tight around Odin’s hips. His head falls back as Zane rocks into him, their co*cks sliding together, and sh*t, between the adrenaline of the concert and Zane’s teasing mouth and fingers he’s already so close to oblivion. He looks at Zane, watches as his breath hitches and shutters in his chest and he knows it won’t take much to push them both over the edge.
Odin reaches between them and wraps his hand around their co*cks, so slick with precome, gripping them tight, holding them together. Zane leans back and props his elbows up on the dashboard, giving himself enough leverage to flex his torso, to grind his hips against Odin and f*ck into his hand.
Zane is so beautiful in this moment - his face flushed, wet hair tossed back, eyes closed in concentration, his bottom lip curled between his teeth - and Odin can barely look at him, this divine image illuminated by the soft glow of the overhead light. He places his other hand on Zane’s stomach, splays his fingers wide so he can feel the muscles writhe beneath his touch. Odin braces his feet against the footwell and thrusts up into his hand and against Zane’s co*ck, timing his movements to coincide with the slow rock of Zane’s hips.
Odin runs his hand upwards over Zane’s chest, savoring the sensation of Zane’s soft skin underneath his calloused fingertips. He stops to trace a circle around Zane’s areola, then gently flicks the erect nipple, eliciting a shudder and a moan. He cups Zane’s cheek and rubs his thumb across his wet lips. Zane opens his eyes and Odin groans when Zane takes his thumb into his mouth, sucking on it and swirling his tongue.
They stare into each other’s eyes, souls laid bare, nothing in their heads besides this undying love between them and the earth-shattering need to just feel their bodies as they chase their sweet escape. Their loud moans fill the air as they rock together, drowning out the hammering rain, truck windows fogging with the condensation from their frantic exhalations.
It’s not long before Odin’s legs begin to shake and Zane loses his rhythm, the roll of his hips now erratic and frenzied. Odin can tell Zane is close, nearly there, so he twines his fingers through his damp curls and draws Zane to him. Zane leans in to kiss Odin and god, his lips and tongue are so perfect, like they were made for Odin, their sole purpose to connect their bodies and hearts in this gentle and passionate way, with all the love and care in the world. Odin returns the kiss with fervor, a low groan rumbling in Zane’s chest as Odin rubs his palm over the head of Zane’s dick.
Odin breaks the kiss and tugs on Zane’s hair, pulls his head back as he tightens his grip on their co*cks and increases the pace of his strokes, the thrust of his hips.
“Need to see you,” Odin growls. “I want to watch you come.”
Zane’s lips part, mouth opening, his hooded blue eyes blazing with ecstasy and understanding. Odin twists his hand around Zane’s co*ck and Zane throws his head back, his chest heaving, breath coming fast and shallow. He screams Odin’s name as he spills between them, co*ck spurting and body shuddering with every wave of his org*sm. Odin stares into Zane’s eyes, memorizes each twitch of his face and this can’t be it, couldn’t possibly be the last time he’ll ever hear Zane sigh and call his name as he comes.
Zane surges forward, then, slips his tongue into Odin’s mouth before Odin can spiral too far, before reality can crash down upon them. Odin lets go, moves his hand to Zane’s hip as Zane reaches down to take over, rubs his thumb along the underside of Odin’s achingly hard co*ck. He wraps his other arm around Odin’s back, pulls their chests together, holds Odin close, kisses him with that perfect mouth as his perfect tongue thrusts and his long fingers grip and f*ck it feels so good.
Pressure builds within his core, nerve endings alive and singing with every twist of Zane’s hand and flick of his tongue. Odin moves his hand from Zane’s hair to his back, returning Zane’s embrace, their bodies and mouths pressed tight as Zane’s hand slides up and down the length of Odin’s co*ck. He whines as Zane breaks their kiss, pulls his head back to stare into Odin’s eyes.
“I love you.”
Odin comes with a cry and then Zane’s mouth is on his lips again, loving him, swallowing Odin’s moans as he strokes him through his org*sm, Odin’s hips bucking and stuttering. Zane keeps kissing him, keeps touching him until he’s spilled every drop and the aftershocks stop rolling through him.
The rain ends while they sit there, panting, Zane resting his forehead against Odin’s as they come down from their shared high. Odin feels Zane’s chest hitch beneath his palm and something wet strikes his face, rolls down his cheek.
“I can’t do this, Odin,” Zane says, voice hoarse and thick with emotion. “I can’t say goodbye to you.”
“Oh, Tom,” Odin says, fighting back his own tears. “Hold on. Come here.”
He guides Zane onto the seat next to him. Odin reaches down, removes his boots and strips his leather pants the rest of the way off his legs and throws them to the side. He picks up the blanket and uses a corner to wipe down Zane’s chest, abdomen and hands the best he can, then cleans himself. He wraps his arm around Zane’s shoulders, sits so close he’s practically in his lap. He pulls the blanket up around them, tucks it in around their naked bodies. He leans in and kisses the tears on Zane’s cheek.
“I’m scared, Odin.”
As much as Odin’s own heart is shattering in this moment, he knows he needs to be strong, that he must give Zane whatever he needs before he leaves this truck and walks out into the unknown. Odin places his hand against Zane’s chest, right above his heart, just as Zane did to him on the drive here.
“Here, Tom.” Odin presses harder, can feel Zane’s racing heartbeat beneath his palm. “Carry me with you here. I’ll always be with you and you’ll never be alone. Wherever you are, whatever happens to you, I will be here, thinking of you, loving you.”
The corners of Zane’s mouth tick upwards and his eyes brighten as he gazes at Odin. He slips a hand out from underneath the blanket and cups Odin’s cheek.
“Odin Anderson, are you writing me a love song in real time?”
Odin smiles and leans into Zane’s touch.
“I’m a songwriter, I can’t help but be a tad sentimental.”
Zane places his other hand on top of Odin’s and squeezes it, holds it tight against his chest. He draws Odin’s face to him and kisses him with wet, tear-stained lips.
“You’re a part of me now, Odin. Nothing can, or will, erase that. I won’t let it. Your love is the greatest gift a man like me could hope for and I will carry it with me.”
Odin’s own tears fall now, mixing with Zane’s as their lips meet to share in this grief, this pain.
A thought blindsides Odin then, so hideous, so unimaginable he can’t believe he didn’t think of it earlier, didn’t plead Zane to change this part of the narrative.
“Please tell me I won’t forget you,” Odin says with a gasp, “not like everyone else. I couldn’t bear it.”
“Oh, love, haven’t you realized it by now? This reality manipulation, whatever you want to call it, it doesn’t work on you. You’re immune. I know you’re special, Odin. Not just because of this.” Zane moves his hand to lightly press his fingers against Odin’s throat.
“When I wrote those cursed pages, those words intended to manipulate you - it should have worked, would have worked on anyone else, I am sure of it.” Shame flashes in Zane’s eyes as he glances away from Odin.
Odin presses his hand into Zane’s chest and grips his shoulder.
“Tom, look at me, please.”
Zane turns towards him, guilt and regret writ large on his face.
“I forgive you. Over and over again I forgive you. Whatever this is you’re feeling, leave it behind, here, in this truck. Let my love be the only thing you carry with you when you step out that door.”
Zane opens his mouth to speak when a guttural roar pierces the night. Odin closes his eyes, fights back against the deluge of tears just waiting to burst free. He has to be strong for just a few more minutes and then, only then, can he fall apart.
“We have to go,” Zane says, wiping his face against the blanket. “It’s time for me to end this.”
The blanket falls away as Odin leans down to caress Zane’s neck and chest with his lips. Zane groans as he licks a stripe down Zane’s abdomen, tasting the remnants of their love mixed together and drying on Zane’s smooth skin. He kisses Zane’s co*ck as he reaches down to grab Zane’s - his - sweatpants and shirt off the floor, then hands them to Zane.
“You know,” Odin says as he struggles to wrench his muddy, sopping wet pants back up his thighs and up around his waist, “you could have said something back at the farmhouse about us having more time. I could’ve changed out of these disgusting pants. Put on a real shirt.”
Zane lets out a snort of laughter as he slips his own clothes on.
“I think that outfit is sexy. Plus, I wanted more time alone with you. Once last chance to be selfish, I suppose.”
Odin thinks of Zane’s body as he flexed above him, the way he screamed Odin’s name.
“I’m glad you took that chance,” Odin says, pulling on his boots.
They exit the truck and step out onto the wet ground, the damp smell of rain and the lake flooding Odin’s nostrils. Odin hops up into the truck bed and rummages through the dry box, looking for flashlights. He grabs two of them and hops back down. He hands one to Zane and they turn their flashlights on, then clasp their free hands together.
It’s quiet as they make their way down the muddy dirt path, the silence broken only by the occasional far-off scream of a Taken somewhere in the woods. Odin notices a change come over Zane as they walk, his shoulders straightening, his stride lengthening, walking with purpose. Odin tightens his grip on Zane’s hand and squeezes, sends all the strength he has in him through his palm and into his lover.
Zane’s flashlight clatters to the ground when they reach the bridge to Diver’s Isle. He wraps his arms around Odin and kisses him, consumes him, lips desperate and pleading. Odin returns the embrace, the chill night air swirling around them, causing Odin to shiver as Zane runs his hands down Odin’s back.
Odin holds his flashlight up when Zane breaks away, wanting to see his face, to gaze into his eyes.
“You sounded magnificent tonight, by the way. I am so glad I had a chance to hear you sing, to hear your talented voice one last time.”
A memory flashes before Odin, then, of the first time Zane said those words to him at the farmhouse, the two of them naked in the studio, basking in the afterglow of their first coupling, the beginning of the end. Odin knew, even back then, that their path would lead to destruction and yet he still took that first step.
He doesn’t regret it, any of it, not for one second.
“The world may forget you, but you’ll live on in my heart, in my words, through my talented voice,” Odin says, smiling. “My love for you immortalized in song.”
He holds the flashlight steady and presses his hand to Zane’s chest.
“Don’t be afraid, Tom. Wherever you go, I’ll be right beside you.”
Zane lets out a choked sob and leans in to kiss him again, this time his lips reverent and gentle, and Odin knows this is it, their final moment, their last goodbye. His own tears start to fall as they part, Zane moving his hands to frame Odin’s face, his heartbroken eyes gleaming in the harsh light of Odin’s torch.
“I love you, Thomas. Forever and always.”
“And I love you, Odin. Don’t forget your promise to me, to live your life, to be there for your family, to not follow me into the dark.”
“I won’t forget and I won’t ever stop loving you. My heart is yours, Tom, for as long as I live.”
Zane kisses his cheeks and wipes Odin’s tears away with his thumbs. He steps back from Odin and leans down to grab his flashlight. He steps onto the bridge, then hesitates, turns back towards Odin.
“Stay here, love. Please don’t cross the bridge. I don’t quite know what will happen when I walk through that door and I need to know you’ll be safe.”
“I’ll stay here, I promise,” Odin says, his resolve shattering, voice clogged with emotion, and he has to say it this one last time while he still has the chance.
“I love you,” he chokes out between sobs.
Zane takes a step towards him, then stops, reaches out his hand to steady himself against the bridge’s railing. Odin hears a wrenching gasp tear through Zane as he fixes his flashlight on Odin.
“I love you too, Odin Anderson.”
The light of Zane’s flashlight disappears as he turns and resumes his steady march towards ruination.
There’s a ripping sensation in Odin’s heart as Zane’s silhouette recedes across the bridge. Odin opens his mouth to call out to him, to beg him to stay, to tell him they can still find another way to fix this together. He wants to tell him he can’t live without him, that he needs him, that they have so many poems left to write and songs left to sing, that their art could change the lives of millions and make the world a more beautiful, vibrant place. He wants to tell him there are so many lazy mornings left to spend wrapped in each other’s arms as the sun bathes them in its warm glow of promises and new beginnings. He wants to tell him the word love is too small, too narrow to define the rapturous explosion he feels in his chest every time Zane looks into his eyes.
But he doesn’t call out. He can’t make this any harder for Zane as he does this valorous, inconceivable thing.
Odin can’t breathe, his lungs simply refuse to work, and he can barely see through the tears flooding his vision. Surely this must be what dying feels like because he can’t imagine a worse sensation than the suffocating, annihilating pain tearing through him.
And then Zane’s form is gone, outside the bounds of Odin’s flashlight, the only indication of him the beam from Zane’s own flashlight as he continues on towards the cabin. The light bobs up and down when Zane ascends the porch steps, then stops.
The beam turns toward Odin, searching for him, but it’s too dark, and Odin’s too far for that pinprick of light to reach him. A shuddering breath escapes him, body screaming for air, as the beam turns away, then disappears completely, Zane swallowed by darkness as he enters the cabin.
The ground beneath Odin’s feet lurches and he sinks to his knees. An impossibly loud crack fills the air as the earth convulses, the world being torn asunder as surely as his own heart. The water surrounding the island erupts, all hissing bubbles and violent geysers of steam.
A panicked cry escapes his lips as the island begins to sink. Odin’s brain struggles to comprehend the sight before him, the onyx waters of Cauldron Lake rushing up to consume every vestige of the man he loves. There’s a wrenching tear as the bridge breaks free of its posts, dragged down by the weight of rock and dirt and wood as the island plunges into the depths.
Odin forces himself to watch, to stay on his knees until the lake’s surface is once again calm and serene, the wooden sign dangling above his head the only remaining trace of Diver’s Isle.
