**WARNING- MAY BE TRIGGERING. VIEWER DISCRETION ADVISED**
Carols and Cecil arrived at the studio early on Monday.
"I love you," Carlos told Cecil for the hundredth time that day, pecking his cheek.
"I love you, too." Cecil gave Carlos' hand a gentle squeeze then promenaded into his studio, his home.
Carols drove away to his laboratory.
Cecil sat down on his chair, spinning around once or twice. "Ah, home sweet home."
He got his laptop out, setting up the news and his microphone. He put on his headphones and started up the music.
"Good morning, Night Vale. How are you all doing on this lovely day?" He cleared his throat and straightened his bow-tie. "Yesterday, or however long ago it was since we don't have a standardized way of keeping track of time, The Little Old Lady Who Secretly Lives in Your Home died. We don't know how she died or what time during the day it happened, but when Hiram found her, she was lying on the floor not breathing.. We will be holding a funeral for her at the church near Arby's. In other news, Hiram McDaniels has offered to take her place as director of the town board. There will be voting whenever you feel like it at the town hall. Just go down and cast your vote." There was a rapping on the door. "Hold on, listeners. There's someone at the door." Cecil got up and walked to the door, looking through the tiny peephole. His breath escaped him. It was Carlos. But he was all battered and bruised, tears running over his face. "Listeners... It's-" He opened the door and embraced Carlos. "Carlos. Oh, my Carlos. Why are you like this? Who did this to you?"
Carlos shook his head, his shoulders moving rhythmically up and down to his sobs. "I can't-"
"Listeners, I'm sorry. Let's go to the weather." He pressed a button on his headphones, starting the weather. Cecil took the shaking Carlos into his arms, holding him tightly.
Carlos went limp in Cecil's arms, dragging them both to the floor of the studio. "My father... My uncle... They did this to me..." His sobs seemed to shake the room.
"What? Why?!"
"B-because you and I are dating... They don't like it..." Carlos pulled away from Cecil, wringing his hands in his lap.
"But they didn't have to hurt you! Did you call the authorities?" Carlos shook his head. "Did you call 911?" Carlos shook his head, again, hanging it low. "Why not?"
"So many people don't like us, or those like us... I didn't know who to call..."
"Carlos... I thought you went to your lab."
"I did. But they were there... Waiting for me. I'm sorry, Cecil. I love you. I don't think I can handle anymore of this."
Cecil reached out to hold Carlos' hand, but Carlos pulled away. "Baby, please don't give up. You have so much to look forward to. Don't give up. Please."
Carlos shook his head and got up, wiping his face on his torn coat sleeve. "Good bye, Cecil... I love you." And he walked out the door.
Cecil stayed there, crying on the floor where his boyfriend had sat.
Carlos got to Cecil's house and locked himself in the big bathroom with a pencil sharpener and a bottle of Cecil's heavy duty pain killers. "I'm so sorry, Cecil Gershwin Palmer. I'll always love you..." He mumbled as he took a pill and took a blade off of the sharpener.
As he slid the sharp edge along the length of his arm, blood slowly trickled to the floor. Carlos kept slicing his light coffee skin open, not bothering to clean up the floor. The bottom of his left arm was open in many spots. Carlos took a handful of pills and swallowed them dry. His vision started to blur as he pulled out his phone to text Cecil one last time.
I love you, Cecil. 3 xoxo
Carlos soon lost consciousness after that, lying on the bathroom floor of his boyfriend's house, surrounded by his own vomit and blood. No one knows what was going through his head or why he did what he did instead of seeking help. Cecil stopped doing the radio show and moved away from the house where Carlos had killed himself in the master bathroom. No one dared mention Carlos to Cecil lest he go into a fit of rage or have a breakdown. Cecil's doctors upped his dose of one painkiller a day to two or three a day, to make his headaches from crying lessen. Cecil died a few years later in a car crash. He had been drinking after taking twice the recommended dose of his meds. At least he got to join his love in the afterlife.