[He gets right back into stance to shoot again, aiming at a fresh spot on the dune. Before he pulls the trigger, though, something swims in his head and suddenly, it is something else: a rooftop billions of miles away and a year behind, shooting a different target with a different person watching... But Ian was standing right where Stephen is, he's pretty sure, and Mickey was just as silent, and they were both miserable and angry then, too.
Today, the memory grinds enough on his nerves to make him want to lose it. He uncocks the gun and turns away, tossing it lightly into the sand, pressing the heel of his other hand to his eye.]
no subject
Today, the memory grinds enough on his nerves to make him want to lose it. He uncocks the gun and turns away, tossing it lightly into the sand, pressing the heel of his other hand to his eye.]
Fuck.