There are gravestones in the ranch.
The world keeps turning. The sun rises and sets, the stars shine in the sky.
The worst endings, Tango thinks, are the clumsy ones.
They'd been apart, when they died.
It'd been abrupt, like the snap of fingers. Like the severing of string.
For a few precious seconds, Tango had looked around, eyes wide. Instinctually, he searches for warm, brown eyes.
He bleeds on the steps of somebody else's home, and thinks, no.
This can't be it.
And all too quickly, nothing.
Tango doesn't recall closing his eyes, but he wakes up.
He's sitting on the grass, and the sun is out, bright as the wind tussles his hair. In the distance, there's a figure.
His heart leaps in his throat, "Jimmy?"
Jimmy turns to him, eyes filled with mirth. He smiles like clouds parting for the rising sun, and it's so familiar and breathtaking that Tango stops, just a hair's breadth away.
Jimmy tilts his head, his dimple more prominent with his smile. It turns sad, and he comes forward, closing the distance between them. He cups Tango's cheek, wiping a tear away with his thumb.
Tango hadn't realized he was crying, but now he can't stop.
"Jimmy- What, how..." He hiccups. "I wasn't- I'm sorry-" Is all he can say, before strong arms envelop his frame, and Tango shivers, aching with how much he had needed this.
"It's okay, Tango." Jimmy tells him. Tango's tucked his face on the space between Jimmy's neck and shoulder, breathing in deep.
He smells the faint scent of wheat, lingering on him from their time on the ranch. There's a hint of wood and spice, and a smell so distinctly Jimmy that Tango can't help but hold him tight.
"It's not the end," Jimmy says, and he suddenly sounds far away. "As long as we keep going, there isn't an end."
Tango holds him like a man starved, crying out when he feels Jimmy start to slip through his grasp. "I don't want to let go." He pleads. "I want to go home."
Tango feels a hand in his hair, and he looks up.
Jimmy pushes his hair back, pressing a soft kiss on his forehead. When he talks, Tango can feel the words on his skin.
"Home is wherever we go," Jimmy squeezes him tight, and only now does Tango realize that he's trying not to cry. "I'll find you." Jimmy says, voice firm in a promise.
Jimmy sniffs, eyes wet with tears. They hold each other tight, both afraid to let go.
"I'll find you," Jimmy repeats, throat going tight. "In every single life."
Tango makes a helpless, broken noise. "We'll build another ranch," He sobs. "We'll build as many as we want."
Tango knows a thing or two about rebuilding, about rising from the ashes. He knows, like he knows himself, that Jimmy does too.
So they hold each other. Two souls, intertwined.
Then, like a candle snuffed out, there's nothing.
>Respawn?
>Yes No
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