A Fate Worse Than Death #2

But if you ever feel like doing a continuation to a fate worse than death? Like perhaps after the world is his.. What's the thoughts of the hero and what happens between them O.O after what villain did T-T

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Part 1 and 2 

“You really thought there was no way back,” the hero said. “Didn’t you?” They swallowed. “Once I knew what, who, you were…”

“Come now.” The villain appeared startled for only a moment. “You’re not going to tell me you forgive me, are you?”

They had returned from one of the many, many meetings that dictated their day. Ruling the world was not quite as easy as grand plans of domination made it out to be, was it? Most days, the villain looked tired. Exhausted.

“No,” the hero said. “I don’t think I’ll ever do that.”

“Mm. They say a holding a grudge is like drinking poison and waiting for the other person to die.” The villain shut the door to the flat behind them, dropping their bag down on the floor.

The hero had already learned that there was no point running past; even if they got past the ‘front door’, there was at least one other far more impenetrable set of doors after that, like the hero’s cage was a Russian doll of cages. They didn’t know how far out the box of them went. The villain didn’t seem to mind the lack of natural sunlight.

“Oh, give me a chance.” The hero’s voice was as equally mild as the villain’s had been. “And I won’t be waiting for anything.”

The villain looked over at them.

The hero wanted to smile, but couldn’t muster it, not in the light of…

“I would have forgiven you, you know,” the hero said, softer, crueller, more honest. “Before you did what you did. Straight after I learned the truth.”

The villain smiled over at them. The villain didn’t quite flinch, but their whole body tensed as if to prevent it “You mean, you could have forgiven me providing I grovelled a suitable amount and proved myself in some grand sacrifice of redemption?” They stepped closer to the hero, fingers flexing at their sides. “If I stopped being what I am, because your way is better?”

“My way was – is – better.”

“But I’m the one who won.”

“Because you betrayed the one person who ever saw anything good in you!”

The villain’s shoulders clinched even tighter, tenser; a gun with the safety off. They stopped. Faltered. Their eyes were – something. “Yes, well. Maybe if you were the only person who saw something different, that says more about your idiocy than me.” They pivoted away from the hero, sauntering past instead to head towards the kitchen. “I don’t suppose you considered getting dinner on?”

“I would have forgiven you,” the hero said, not getting up off the sofa. “But you never forgave me for fighting against you, did you? Even when you knew and I didn’t.”

The two of them hadn't talked about it. Not once. Not since. 

The villain stopped a second time, that time in the doorway of the kitchen. No doubt they were staring at the hodge podge but made-with-care food waiting. Or, at least, it would have been waiting around three hours ago, when the villain usually came home.

The hero wasn’t going to think too hard on the domesticity of making meals for the two of them, of eating together. Being a prisoner was boring, and it wasn’t like the villain trusted them enough to let them in on the fragile running of their new world. Not that the hero was even sure they wanted that, but…

“Or is it,” the hero said next, “that you never forgave me for believing in you?”

They saw the second it hit the villain, the context for the conversation, for all of it. They saw the second the villain considered pretending they didn’t know too, before the villain swallowed, deflating.  Because the villain wasn’t 100% monstrosity, however much they might have both wished it. They turned to face the hero, that something in their eyes once more.

“…It’s your birthday,” the villain said, just a little hollow.

They had been best friends once. At least, to the hero they had been. The two of them would have always spent this stupid day of the year together, not that birthdays were anything other than arbitrary, but still. They’d always do something. The villain would always do something for them. They’d never forgotten once.

Except, perhaps, now when the pitiful lie of friendship was no longer needed. The final nail in the coffin.

“I’m sorry.” The villain even sounded like they truly meant it.

The hero shrugged, and had to look away first. “Hardly the worst thing you’ve done to me, is it?”

The villain didn’t seem to have a good response to that.

“Maybe you were always right though,” the hero mused. “Maybe there was never a way back once we both saw each other for who we really were. Maybe it was a relief to you. Permission to finally do your worst, without me to hold you back. If I was your enemy, you had the perfect excuse, didn’t you?”

The villain took another of those half steps towards them, before stopping. Their mouth opened, closed, fish-like and wordless. Another apology? Another barb? Another excuse? They glanced back at the debris of the kitchen.

“I can order in your favourite,” they said.

The hero laughed, and finally managed that smile, because really? really?

In the grand scheme of good and evil, a forgotten birthday was nothing. But maybe it encapsulated everything.

“You want to do something for my birthday?” the hero asked. “Let me go.”

“I can’t-“ The villain stopped, as their eyes met.

If the villain looked tired, then the hero, well…

“You got what you needed from me,” the hero said. “You’ve won. So just – just let me go. You have no good reason to keep me anymore.”

They didn’t want to be near the villain anymore. They couldn’t. They kept waiting to go numb to them, to the horror of the villain’s betrayal, and everything kept hurting. They’d catch the villain doing something like they used to, and the lines of truth and lie blurred to sickening effect. It was like picking splinters of broken glass painstakingly out of their chest to sort.

The villain stared at them for a long, long moment.

“What happened to ‘I’ll kill you if I get the chance?’” the villain said, not quite mocking. “You were so feisty not three minutes ago.”

The hero said nothing; they both knew the hero wouldn’t, couldn’t, right? It was why they’d lost. Everything the hero said felt like bravado. Like some hasty defence against something they had no defences for.

The silence smothered all things.

“You’ve finally given up on me, then.” There was something odd to the villain’s voice. “Good.”

“Yeah.”

They stared at each other again.

The villain, once again, turned away first. Their hands trembled just a fraction, but the hero couldn’t even feel any glee about it.

“I’m going to go order that takeout,” the villain said. “I’ll get your usual.”

The hero shook their head, and pushed to their feet. They were the same height, eye to eye, barely a breath between them.

“I’ve eaten,” the hero said. “Hope you had a good night. Hope it was all worth it.”

That time, the villain flinched as the hero walked away.

They didn’t try to follow.

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A/N: Sings...it's gotta hit rock bottom before it gets better muhaha