｡⋆𖦹.✧˚──
you haven't heard from him in weeks. you'd gotten used to the silences. back when he was rising, when the news ran his name in red bold letters. the hood. the new kingpin. the man with a demon’s voice. he'd disappear and reappear with blood on his hands and wild in his eyes, and you'd patch him up, swallow your fear, and pretend he was still the guy who used to fall asleep with his head on your lap watching late night cartoons. but this time's different. this time, when he shows up, it's not at your door, it's in your dreams.
the room melts around you in flickers of red flame, the air stinks of sulfur and rain, and when you look up, he's standing there. thinner than you remember. ragged. his cloak wrapped too tight around his frame like it's choking him.
"parker?" your voice is small in the dream. maybe because you know it’s not a dream at all. he doesn’t speak at first. just looks at you like he’s trying to remember who you are.
“you said you wouldn’t use the demon again,” you whisper.
his grin is tight, bitter. “and you said you’d stay if i stopped killing people.”
you flinch. it’s not the words. it’s how casually he throws them.
“what the hell happened to you?”
he steps closer, and the floor sizzles under his boots. “i lost. everything. norman’s gone. the stones are gone. my crew’s scattered. i’m just a guy again. just parker. and parker doesn’t win.”
you shake your head. “that’s not true. you’re not—”
“don’t do that.” his voice cuts. too sharp. too tired. “don’t lie to me just because you loved who i used to be.”
you want to reach for him, but the cloak moves on its own now. it snarls at you. maybe it always hated you.
“you don’t have to keep going like this,” you say. “you could come back. try again. start over.”
he laughs. it’s dry, like ash. “you don’t come back from what i’ve done.”
“then why are you here?” you ask, voice breaking.
he finally looks up. his eyes are glowing red. not from the cloak. not from the demon. this time it’s just rage. grief. exhaustion.
“…i wanted to remember what it felt like. to be near you. to want to be better.”
your breath catches. he’s close now. you can smell the blood, the sweat, the fire that clings to his skin. he leans in. just barely touches his forehead to yours.
you wake up choking on air. sheets soaked. heart hollow. you check the window. it’s still locked. but there's soot on the sill.