AN: Based off the song "Asleep" by The Smiths.
Enjoy.
The rain dispensed downward as he sauntered through the vacant streets of the city. The water slithered across his features washing away the tears that he wasn't even sure were falling. His clothing was soaked all the way through as he paced himself from one block to the next. Everything had fused collectively to become a distorted blur so much that he wasn't sure he was headed in the right direction anymore.
He pulled the diminutive liquor bottle out of his pocket and tossed it down before he realized he had even detached the petite crimson cap. He tossed the undersized glass bottle against the brick wall—the reverberation of the devastated glass raining down upon the wet sidewalk didn't even cause him to flinch as he continued on his way.
With blood shot eyes he finally made it back to his apartment. It felt so foreign. What had formerly been their home was now just a vacant shell of what used to be. He left the keys in the tattered door as he walked without delay into the bedroom, collapsing onto the bed, his face still saturated from tears.
He picked up the phone on his bedside table, dialing the numbers that were so memorable he didn't even have to gaze at the touch pad. With the room swarming around him, he elevated the phone to his ear—it went directly to her voicemail. At the sound of her voice, he twisted on his side, coiling into a fetal position—his hand which detained the phone fell loose, thumping the pillow with a soft grace.
His fingers washed across the touch pad for a second time, this instance pushing the redial button, he waited until he could hear her voice and sustained this habit for the next two hours before the room went black around him and he drifted off into another a world, a better world.
"Tommy," her voice was just a murmur, a faded and distracting siren that he loved so much, "Tommy," her thumb made spherical motions over his silky cheek.
His scarlet eyes cracked open just a slit, sufficient for him to make out the shadowed contour of her body, perched so benevolently above him.
"Tommy," she brushed his hair off his forehead.
"Sing me to sleep," he muttered, "Sing me to sleep, I'm tired and I want to go to bed," he trembled at her touch.
"Tommy, what is going on with you?"
"Just sing me to sleep," his head was slowly shaking back at forth, "Just sing me to sleep and then leave me alone," his eyes were heavy, he could no longer keep them open, "Don't try to wake me up in the morning."
"Tommy?" her voice was on the threshold of breaking down.
His voice was hushed and tranquil, "'Cause I will be gone."
"What are you talking about? Where are you going?"
"Don't feel bad for me, I want you to know," he skewed his head up towards her, opening his eyes, tenderness washing over every inch of his body, "Deep in the cell of my heart, I will feel so glad to go," he mumbled, drifting back off into a black oblivion where she was here because she loved him, not because she was concerned about him.
"Tommy! Tommy!" she half yelled to his insipid body.
The tears began to scamper down her face as she frantically reached for the telephone on his beside table, before realizing that it wasn't there.
"Tommy, stay with me," She reached over his serene body and seized the phone from his hand, the resonance of her voice replaying into her ear. She held the phone away from her, the numbers distorted, before swiftly hanging up and calling 911.
She wept into the phone, "Please, I need an ambulance right away, my boyfr… my… something is wrong."
"What's wrong?" the voice was so calm on the other line.
"I don't know, I just came over and… I don't know."
"I need you to look around is there anything there? Any empty pill cases, alcohol bottles?"
Jude reached towards his bedside table, her hands trembling as she urgently searched for any sign of anything, she knocked over a cup of water, his books, his watch, she opened the top drawer to find three drained bottles of prescription drugs.
Desperately trying to get the words out that the operator needed to hear, she ruptured into tears, the world stopped moving around her as the phone slipped from her hands and hit the floor. She sobbed over his body, shaking his shoulders, shouting his name.
"Jude?" he questioned looking up at her.
"Tommy, what did you do? What did you do?" she managed to solicit over hiccups and dry tears.
"Sing to me," he requested, "Sing me to sleep."
She shook her head, "I can't," she reached down engulfing his body in her arms, his heart was beating rapidly. She rested her palm against his chest—this is how it used to feel when she would sleep beside him in their bed.
His breathing was sluggish and short, his body so motionless and cold.
"I don't want to wake up on my own anymore," his voice was tranquil, flat, and hushed, "There is another world, there is a better world."
"Tommy…"
"Well, there must be, there has to be," his head wobbled against the lush pillow, "sing to me, sing me to sleep," he requested one final time before closing his eyes once again.
Her voice was innocent and pure, through left-over tears she sang to him, her words, the very last thing he heard as he took his final breath, with the melody of the distant sirens in the background.