Can't you tell that this is all just a contest?
The one that wins will be the one that hits the hardest
Please, please, don't leave me
His knuckles are white as he grips at the kitchen counter, his breathing deep and labored. His whole body is shaking as he tries to calm down, tries to keep from another outburst. He swallows, and his grip on the counter loosens. His fingers ache, and the sharp edge of the counter has cut into skin. Blood drips from his hands, but he soon wipes it off on his pants, staining the fabric red. It takes a few minutes, but he finally stops shaking, but he still feels light. As if he's about to fade away into nothingness. As if he's about to fade away from existence.
His legs barely work as he stumbles into the living room, where remnants of the fight still remained. Shards of glass litter the floor, and they crunch under him as he walks towards the steps. He stops in front of the staircase, the shaking returning as he stares up at the top, knowing full well that it's impossible to avoid what comes next.
He sucks in a deep breath before taking one step up, the wood creaking under his weight. The ascent is slow, as he takes his time with each step up. When he finally reaches the top, his heart is about to explode out of his walk down the hallway to the bedroom is agonizing, and when he reaches the door, he's dizzy, out of breath. He turns the doorknob and pushes the door open.
Lars is standing out on the deck, wisps of smoke twirling around him. He glances behind him, but says nothing. He does nothing.
Then he realizes that Lars is waiting for him to come outside.
Cool air blows in through the open deck door, and Erik shivers. He wants to run, to hide. But he can't look away, turn away, from his problems. Not tonight, at least. Not tonight.
Soon he's standing beside Lars, refusing to look at the taller man. Instead he stares out into the water, watching as the waves crash against the rocky shore.
He knows exactly what's coming, but it doesn't lessen the pain.
Finally, Lars speaks. "We did it again." He says quietly, glancing down at Erik.
Lars sighs, before shaking his head. "Why do we even keep trying?" He tosses his cigarette over the deck and into the water below. "What's the point of all this?"
There isn't one." Erik answers, biting his lip as he rests his head against Lars' arm. "I don't think there ever was one, to be honest."
"So what do we do now?"/p
Erik doesn't have an answer. Maybe there's nothing they can do. Maybe it'll always be like this between them, a never ending cycle of screaming and shouting, watching as objects shatter against the wall, inches away from the other's head.
Maybe it'll always be them fighting, as willpower and meaning fade away.
"I don't know." Erik answers, letting out a bitter laugh. "What do you think we should do?"
"I don't know."
There's a time of silence between them, as they stare out into the water.
Erik wonders if he could jump over the edge, if Lars would let him and watch as he fell into the waters cold grasp. Or if he would catch him. Save him.
He hates himself, for even thinking for a second that Lars would let him die, let him kill himself.
But he hates Lars more. For being the reason that he wanted to jump over the edge.
He wonders if Lars feels the same.
If he also wants to jump over the edge.
"This has to stop." Lars says, looking down at Erik. "This has to stop now."
Erik swallows dryly.
"Then make it stop."