Work Text:
He can’t sleep.
Again.
Nothing to do in the middle of the night.
Nothing to eat in his small apartment.
He has been scrolling for hours now and finally decides to close his phone.
Only to turn it on again minutes later.
A few notifications decorate his lock screen.
There’s one from Yone, which he will probably answer later.
For now, he swipes it to the left, already forgetting about it.
He misses last summer.
Like every other summer, but this one in particular.
He remembers when he could get himself drunk, laughing with his friends, dancing all night long.
Running as fast as he could, fueled by the alcohol kicking in at the right time.
Winter is so cold. And he misses those moments.
He also misses the attention he didn’t get on his birthday.
Two months ago.
He gets dressed.
He needs to go out a little, just to cool down.
He keeps his pajama shirt but changes his shorts for warmer pants.
He puts on his famous lilac sweatshirt, adds the first jacket lying on his couch, laces up his sneakers and heads out.
He almost forgets his keys.
He locks the door behind him.
Puts on a random playlist and places his headphones over his messy hair.
He has to go down four floors before the fresh air finally hits him.
The city is quiet at this time.
No one, no cars, just the streetlights here to light his path and the angry wind to remind him they are in the middle of February.
The current song isn’t striking enough, and he knows exactly what he needs.
He needs to feel something deep inside.
Harder than usual perhaps.
That’s what he’s thinking about.
To hurt himself.
No, to hurt his brain.
This fucking brain that thinks too much, forgetting it has to survive.
So he clicks on the playlist he still shares with him, unable to delete it after everything.
Ezreal looks up at the sky.
The stars are so shiny despite the light pollution.
He finally crosses the road, beginning his little night walk.
The empty streets feel odd to him, even a bit scary, to be honest.
You never know what kind of creep could be lurking in the dark spots.
He misses last summer.
Really bad.
It felt less dangerous with him around.
Now he is alone, still leaving a large spot besides him, as if he wasn't really alone.
But he has to defend himself.
Walk by himself.
Keep his thoughts to himself.
That’s scary.
He doesn’t even know if he could really stand up for himself.
He grabs his keys in his jacket’s right pocket, making them stick out between his knuckles, Wolverine-style.
Could this work as some kind of self-defense?
Probably not.
For a few minutes, his thoughts wander elsewhere. The music isn’t distracting them, and maybe he feels at peace.
For a few minutes, even if he is thinking, it feels like a break.
For a few minutes, he allows himself to forget about him.
Shit.
Break is over.
He shouldn’t let his grip tighten that much around the keys.
He only wanted to hurt his stupid brain for working that much, he can’t leave traces of all that on his perfect hand.
His perfect skin.
He has to take care of it, and of everything else.
Because it’s part of the job. That’s what he signed up for.
At the same time, the music changes to one of his songs.
Definitely not an Ezreal choice.
Some emo-core rap with a hint of dubstep, whatever it is.
He turns around the corner.
He knows this place so well.
A little park, with some benches, trees and a playground.
Those trees seem a bit menacing, but he keeps walking.
No one knows what could happen in those bushes.
He tries not to think about it and sits on a not-so-dirty bench in front of the playground.
There’s a sign over there, and he can read:
“Strictly for children from 6 to 12 years old.”
Who really cares about that?
After a while, he eventually frees his keys from his palm, taking his phone in both hands in a hurry.
He shouldn’t do it.
But it happens so fast, and he can’t help it.
It's time.
He opens the message app way too quickly, his heartbeat in sync with the song.
Enough time has passed.
am sorry.
He types so fast those little letters.
Thank you, Piano Tiles.
Brain empty, he presses send.
He then looks back at the stupid photo of him smiling and showing his middle finger with a stupid kawaii cat filter.
He turns his notifications off and shuts the screen down.
He knows exactly what he ruined.
He just doesn’t know how to fix it.
And this will do for now.
He takes a deep breath, as if he had completely stopped breathing for the last thirty seconds or so.
Now it’s just him, the cold air, the few stars above him, and the music they used to share.
The rules were so simple back then.
“One of yours, one of mine. No shuffle. No skip.”
They both agreed to it.
He leans even more against the bench he chose.
It’s so cold.
So lonely.
So quiet.
And he’s so bored.
Of course, he could pretend everything was still like before and go to the little playground just a few meters away.
But who would watch him?
He needs him so much.
If he were there, they would’ve gotten something to eat before coming here. Probably something cheap and greasy, because nothing is really open at this hour. They would’ve sat on this bench — probably because it’s the closest one to the playground. Ezreal would have stolen one of Kayn’s already cold fries with a soft giggle. He would’ve chased after him, forcing him to climb onto the childish structure, trying to flee and pretending to rule over the place. He can’t attack him, because his love is stronger than a stupid soggy French fry.
Before leaving, Kayn would’ve left a trace of their passage on the playground. Could be anything. A silly “love ya” with a little grumpy smiley face, or a “Kayn was fucking here.” Of course, Ezreal would’ve crossed out the “fucking” multiple times, hoping nobody could read it and misinterpret it.
They could have.
They could have fucked here.
Or at least made out, on the structure, Ezreal being slightly taller than him, or on the bench, trying to sit more and more on his lap.
Pressing hard against each other.
Wanting to become only one.
As they should have been from the beginning.
And then they would’ve run as fast as they could back to their apartment.
Like during those summer nights.
Ezreal sighs.
A big one.
Like the kind you let out when you have to leave that thought behind and just move on.
He focuses his attention back on the sky.
It’s as if there are fewer stars than before.
And the dark color of the night is slowly changing.
He should check what time it is.
He goes for his phone again, after what feels like an eternity.
He needs a reason to go find his bed.
But.
There’s an answer on his lock screen.
go to sleep.