Hello! This was inspired by chapter 14 of Sleepover, it was one of the last lines. I said it completely and it just immediately sparked this story. And to the will of our dear josh111888, here's another drama/tragedy! (Yeah, I got that review) And, obviously, this is another one of my mushy stories, and one of my more touching ones…I think.
SUMMARY: Sam can't bear it. She needs him, although he doesn't need her anymore. When she goes to see him one last time, she can't contain herself…and falls in love all over again with Danny.
RATED: T for slightly mature themes and language.
In His Room
Black hair on black hair. Pale skin on pale skin. Black shirt on black shirt. Blue eyes on purple eyes. Oh, how she missed him. She'd get back at whoever did it for doing that!
Samantha Manson lay on her bed, raven hair spread out. Her eyes were glazed over, and her face tear-streaked. Mascara tracks fell down her cheeks. She always knew fate was cruel, but it never truly registered in her mind until the man did what he did.
She choked on her throat. It had been half a year. Why couldn't she get over it? Why? Something was always missing now, that's why. She couldn't stand it at all.
Choking her sobs in, holding them in as best she could, she grabbed the ladder from under her desk and she was reminded of Freakshow. She broke into silent hysterics. Why? His life was so short! Why did someone have to go and take it away so soon? Sam managed, however, to drop the ladder out her window shakily.
Sam checked the door. No one there. She placed one foot on the wooden block and went down. There. She got both feet on the step. Slowly, looking down about 30 feet, she began to move her feet down, clutching the rope tightly as if a comforter as she sobbed hysterically.
At last, she managed to make it down and she ran from the ally that connected her mansion to the apartment building. She ran all the way down the streets, jaywalking, to the ally of the Fenton household. It brought back really painful memories. In his room.
Sam found the ladder she had established the night of the loss. Sam collapsed on the ground, crying like a little child. She was a lost doll that no one cared for anymore. He was the last one to care for her.
She climbed up the ladder, splattered with red liquid and dried tears. Sam bit her lip, holding back tears as she clambered through the window silently. She was there. In his room.
The floor was damaged, an explosion and a hole to show for it. The walls were splattered with the same liquid. Rips of a black shirt and blue jeans lay on the dirty ground. A knife had brought his lamp to its doom on the floor, smashed. The night table was overturned and partially broken.
And on the perfectly untouched bed was a boy, sleeping peacefully. Black hair on black hair. Pale skin on pale skin. Black shirt on black shirt. Blue eyes on purple eyes.
But he wasn't sleeping anymore, Sam thought. Sam crawled on the smooth bed and stroked his head. His cold, pale head.
"I know you can't hear me, Danny," she said calmly, a small smile crawling onto her lips through the tears and mascara tracks. "But you know I love you. I hope you remember that much."
Sam fell on top of his body, pressing hers to his. "Don't forget that," she whispered, before leaning in on the young boy. The non-living boy.
Their lips touched. Sam was kissing a d e a d boy. But that boy was her boyfriend, and all she could think of was screwing the laws of physics. He was there, she knew it. He may have left, but he would always be there for Sam. As long as she was there, so was he. Always.
Black hair on black hair. Pale skin on pale skin. Black shirt on black shirt. Blue eyes on purple eyes.
Forever and ever.
In his room.
Fin
GRRR! More DS! Well, here's some more drabble for you. Have fun flaming it to the d e a t h!
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