He dropped to his knees, blankly staring at the small letter he was left before it fell. With his hands trembling before him, he looked hopelessly up to the picture of the man he loved… But he was gone now; gone without ever leaving a mark of his existence as the rain poured just outside the door. The soft pitter patter meant nothing to him before he slowly arose from his knees. Francis wasn't sure what he could do, his mind in a haze as he stepped into the unforgiving December rain without a second glance back. He had loved Alfred… No, he still loved Alfred. His feet crunched the browned leaves as he trudged along the sidewalk, hands shoved in his pockets as the relentless wind wisped his hair about.
The American had promised his return… But all that was left of him was the memories. His hair became matted as he walked aimlessly, not even looking to see where he was going. He didn't care where he was going anymore. He smiled and chuckled, looking up before him as the road began to wind and the weather became as rigid and cold as his heart. There was nothing without Alfred, nothing. As Francis walked on, he found himself walking through a forest, thick with brush and trees that sheltered him from the rain. The twisted smile that worked its way onto his lips made him realize something: there was no meaning to his life even with Alfred. All the people around him didn't care about him: they only saw him as a tool for their own use and even the love of his life had used him.
There would be a funeral, people lamenting his death… No, they would be burdened by his death and miserable he was no longer around for their amusement. He laughed again, running a hand through his hair before looking at his hand. A steady stream of blood oozed from it from where his nails had pierced the skin. He watched the gleaming trail drip from his hand and dilute from the water, although he turned his head to the side as his eyes marveled at it. He began walking again, finding his other hand had done the same before seeing a clearing ahead.
Francis soon found pleasure in seeing his own blood and clawed at his arm, smirking widely once his own scarlet ran down his arm in small rivers. He continued to do the same to his other arm and stared as the blood dripped from his fingertips in a path behind him. Once he was close to the clearance, he collapsed with a warped chuckle. He let himself be doused in the cool rain that would've fallen with or without his consent and finally let his nails sink into his neck. There was no pain, only the pleasure in knowing he could no longer be used by those he once held close. Soon, there was a pool of blood gathering around him as he made more bashes to his throat, his head lain back and his eyes closed. He was finally free, only knowing he was once he could no longer feel the soft plips of rain on him and his heart came to a stop.
Francis,
This will be difficult, but I have to say… I've moved on. My life is not here, so this is goodbye.
I love you.
Alfred