The paper crumbled against his moving hand, dragging the marker along; making lines, patterns. Tom's tired eyes traveled along the lyrics of a song that made sense once upon a time, when love made sense. When love existed, survived. His blonde hair fell in front of his eyes, lying gently on his skin, so still. The lyrics did not belong to him, it wasn't his creativity he'd blamed along with others. Just another song from the past, a better past.
The background, surroundings even, were silent. No music played, no TV was on. Though a song; the song, replayed in his head over and over again. Along with the memory that changed his life around. He didn't know Danny wasn't happy, he didn't know that the end was that close that it just passed by him; slipped through his fingers, just as the black ink from the marker.
He could almost remember the smile that brightened up even the darkest nights. Though, the amount of forged bliss was almost suffocating. Tom was never the one to say it was going to be okay, it was always Danny comforting him in the darkest times. The times now only became darker and gloomy. As the time passed, only did put all the silence together.
"Tom." The way that he said Tom's name, looking into his blue inviting eyes. Danny would never yell at Tom after a rough night. His smile was heartening, never twisted. "I-I'm sorry Danny… I didn't mean to…" His cries muffled against Danny's shirt, their embrace almost glowing. "I know you didn't Tom, it's okay." Danny's sweet smell took over Tom's senses, making the pain almost disappear.
Tom clenched onto Danny's shirt for dear life. "I love you, Danny." "I love you too, Tom." Danny began to rock Tom, almost like a child. "You make me feel so happy, Dan." His response was not words. Danny kissed Tom's hair, humming a song, a lullaby at the most.
Tom wished that Danny told him what was going on, that the depression was slowly taking over his body, soon to the extent where it put him underground at 19 years of age. His scarred wrists grazed against the corners of the desk, new cuts still sensitive. Tom's body flinched at the sharp pain, some of the cuts from the previous hours only being coated by dry blood. The lyrics written in black pen began to fade away as the marker sunk into the thin paper.
The marker twisted and turned with the verse of the song burning into his mind, being a simile so irrelevant that it made sense. He also longed to go back to the moments why Danny had not looked at him when he'd mentioned the word "happy". Only once did he find Danny crying.
His brown curls hung over his head, slouching on his side of the bed. "Dan?" Tom knocked on the door. Danny's head raised, a smile on his lips. "Hey, hun. Come here." Danny waved over gently. Tom took small steps, watching Danny wipe his eyes. "You crying?" He sat down beside Danny, lightly touching his shoulder. "I'm okay." Danny smiled weakly, wrapping his arm around Tom's middle. "You've been good with everything?"
"Yeah." Tom nodded, holding out his bandaged arms. "No new ones since May." "I'm proud of you, Tom. I really am." He smiled, kissing Tom on the cheek, resting his nose on his skin. "Me too." Tom sighed.
The attention to detail on the movement of the marker wasn't on Tom's mind, yet it was still perfection. Not enough to make catch his attention though. The room began to darken, night time taking over his room, haunted him everytime. Without thinking, he turned on the lamp, which illuminated the desk, along with the drawing he'd been working on for the past hours. Slowly but surely.
His tired eyes were glued opened, he couldn't sleep. He hadn't slept for months, the never fading afternoon where it'd ended, forever. His eyes wouldn't close, he didn't have to tell them to not. Not a single part of his body wanted to see it again, but that one part wouldn't let it go, forced him to relieve it.
It'd been a year since Tom had cut himself, the first scars began to fade, showing new, healthy skin. He was proud himself, his life was finally turning around. "Danny, I'm home!" Tom called out through the uncomfortably silent house. The TV was on, but It'd been muted, no sound to replace it. "Danny?" Tom said again, louder even, closed the door behind him. He checked the living room, bathroom. In the kitchen, a door was opened. The cutlery drawer.
Suddenly, a loud bang came from behind him; the sound of falling from the bedroom. He whipped his head around, seeing a long shadow, the silence growing immensely dark, frightening. "D-Danny?" His voice was a whisper, choking on his tongue. He crept to the bedroom, where the door was opened a crack. Carefully, he pushed it open, the hinges making a screeching noise as it revealed the bedroom, and Tom's biggest fear. "No." he gasped, tears immediately forming in his eyes, falling down his face.
His knees gave out, falling down to the ground, staring into Danny's now lifeless eyes. Danny had lost his colour, the red liquid seeping through the large horizontal cut along his throat, the knife still drenched in fresh blood. Tom couldn't bare look, pressing his face into the carpet as it absorbed his tears, sobs and screams. "Danny, please… No… no." Tom's voice muffled against the carpet, hands clenching into tight fists. "DANNY!" he screamed at the top of his lungs, echoing through the silent house.
The loud buzzing sound filled Tom's ears, signifying a new day. He hadn't realized he'd fallen asleep through the night, everytime he'd seen the memory, he couldn't tell anymore if he was day dreaming or sleeping. The black marker laid beside the paper, revealing the picture of the small characters on a curved hill. His groggy eyes, staring at the page, small lyrics of 'love' behind it. His face remained into a frown, his smile lines disappearing.
He raised his head, almost feeling a familiar presence behind him. He sighed, feeling imaginary lips at his ears, hands around his waist. "Don't waste your time on me." The distant voice of Danny being the only form of noise for the past months, which could've been a year, he'd stopped counting. Though, it wasn't the first time. Tom sat up, feeling the hands disappear. Tom crossed the floor, stepping over the black hole that'd been replaced with hardwood floor. The presence followed him with close eyes.
Tom stopped in the kitchen, opening the drawer, taking out a familiar object. It's wasn't the first time, but this was the last. "Tom." The voice echoed again. "Don't waste your time on me." He shook his head, holding the knife to his throat, the same one that'd been coated with Danny's voice. He gulped down the doubting lump in his throat. "You're already the voice inside my head…" He muttered, a single tear strolling down his cheek. The only tear he'd shed for a long time.
"I miss you." Tom whispered, slashing the knife along the skin, his skin, falling to the floor.
The house grew to a deadly silent. The marker and paper still, no breeze, no wind. Tom's drawing created significance, Jack and Sally. Together, forever. Dead or alive. The two characters just a silhouette but showed a greater amount of love than any couple, an inspiration.
Danny smiled, real. He held out his hand. "You alright with everything?" Tom grabbed onto his lover's hand, pulling him up on a familiar hill. One with a twisted curl at the bottom. His eyes traveled along his arms, seeing scars along his arms, as well as his neck.
Both boys had long scars along their neck, but smiled. A smile on Tom's face, the lines growing, his dimple regaining health. "Never better." He said, staying close to Danny. "Will this ever end?" Tom asked, looking into his lover's big blue eyes, curls falling before them. Danny grinned, before giving Tom a long out waited kiss. "It'll never end."
It'll never end.