Where is my Boy
Grell-centric short drabble, loosely based off of the Faultline song with the same title. Warning for character death.
I dreamed you had died. A few nights ago, I dreamed you had died. I woke up crying. I was alone in bed, crying and shaking, and you were dead. You were dead. Gone. What was I supposed to do? I did not know. I didn't know where you were. I just wanted you back in my arms, because I never got the chance to tell you how much I love you. And that was what pained me the most - I had lost my chance to ever, ever tell you how I feel about you. Because you were gone.
Where is my boy?
I saw you come out of a scene
Maybe in some kind of dream
Something that never comes
I woke up, and I called your number. My hands were shaky and I dropped my phone twice. I dialed your number, but I'm pretty sure I got it wrong the first time - blame the shaking. "Fuck." My eyesight was still blurry, from both the tears and the lack of my glasses. But I took a deep breath to calm myself down. I redialed the number, but you didn't pick up the phone. It was four fifty-two in the morning and you didn't pick up the phone. I called again. Nothing. That's when the panic settled in. Why weren't you picking up your phone? I felt dizzy. I needed a smoke.
I'll race in to find you
I'll race in to find you
My hands were still shaking when I picked up the cigarette box. You know where I keep it hidden, and I know you know. You act like you don't, but I know you do. I know it upsets you, but my breath never smells of tobacco, so you don't complain. I know you smuggle some of them sometimes, though I'm not sure if you smoke them or if you just want to rid me of my vice by removing it from my life. But I'm stubborn and you know I just go out to buy some more. You know all these things. I lit a match, but I burned myself on accident and I dropped it. I light another one and bring it to the cigarette on my lips, lighting it. I knew I was shivering but I couldn't feel it. I knew because I had a hard time lighting that smoke, it wouldn't sit still. But I lit it anyway, and stumbled to the kitchen chair. I usually smoke at the window or in the balcony, but I needed to sit down. I would just burn some incense later, I thought. I still had my phone, I tried calling you again. You still weren't picking up. Were you really gone?
I open your eyes to my world
I see you come out of it all
Unharmed and unscathed
What was I to do, if you were? I love you. Was I supposed to just move on? How? How, when you changed me so much? I don't remember what life was like before I met you. We didn't like each other at first. We didn't like each other at all. But then, somewhere along the way, something happened. Love happened. I am not sure how, and I think you were rather surprised yourself, specially that one day when you grabbed my wrist and kissed me. That day I knew, we were meant to be. It's funny when you think about it, since we're so different. You're ice, I'm fire. You're calm, I'm passion. You're a quiet stream, I'm a waterfall. We're different. And yet, we complete each other. We balance each other out. One cannot exist without the other anymore. You know me, and I know you. Sometimes I think you know me better than I know myself. Other times, well, it's reversed - and I know you better than you do. But now you're not there. You're not there. Where are you? Why don't you pick up the phone.
Calling "where is my boy?"
I have seen you so often
I cry "where is my boy?"
Oh, have you all forgotten?
I crushed the cigarette in the ashtray then. I sighed, and ran my hand through my hair. What I wouldn't give for a drink then, but you keep a no-alcohol-in-the-house policy. I'm not sure why, you say you just don't like alcohol. It probably has to do with that time when you had to drag me home from that bar, thoroughly wasted, after watching me grind against some other man. You didn't like it. I apologized, but you wouldn't come around for weeks. I thought I could handle that alcohol, turns out I couldn't. You didn't take me to another bar after that, even if I swore I wouldn't drink so much again. You let me have one glass of wine when we dine out, and that's it. I picked up my coat and walked out the door, dialing his number instead. Ring. Ring. He picked up.
So where is my boy?
When I kneel in your arms
I flew awry
Where is my boy?
"Sempai?"
"Where is he?" I could hear his sigh then. He wasn't expecting me to call so late, but he picked up anyway. He knows what's wrong.
"Sempai..." He repeated, with some concern in his voice. I let out a half-strangled cry at that. He was trying to be condescending and I hate it. I hate it I hate it I hate it. Why couldn't he be more alarmed? Why isn't he trying to help me find you? Lord, why?
"Where is he, dammit! Fuck, Ronald, I need your help!" I was shouting while the front door to my apartment building slammed shut behind me. I can't remember have dressed, but I must have, because I wasn't wearing my nightwear anymore. And I was crying and shaking, with my cellphone in one hand and the other clutching my coat tighter around myself.
He sighed. "Grell, it's past five am. You know where he is. Don't... Don't do anything stupid. I'll see you in the morning." He hung up then. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. It was starting to snow then, and I wasn't there yet. Somewhere along the way to you, I started running. I ran and I ran and I ran. I threw the gates open, I was nearly there. I fell to my knees when I reached you.
"Why? Why did you leave me? Where are you? Why are you not here with me?" How foolish of me, to think you could listen. You can't. You can't listen to anything anymore. I was still crying, banging my fists on the cold dirt beneath me. "Fuck you, William! Fuck you! You promised you'd never leave me! You promised! Why!" I looked up to trace your name on the gravestone. I held on to it. You weren't there anymore. You were gone.
You were gone.
You were gone.