"Robin, please…"
"Brian, I'm sorry but no!"
"B-but…I love you…"
"Gold, no. I love Blaze, not you. Get over it already!"

...

The conversation bounced around in the boys head as he stared down at the wooden boards beneath his feet. Brian was mentally beating himself up as he pondered on what he could have said to possible change what had happened, but every which way he looked at it it all ended the same. Robin, the vampire of his dreams, hated him and loved that assassin bastard Blaze over him. For reasons he couldn't exactly tell why. Was it that he was a weirdo? Ugly? Unappealing? Sure he was a tad on the heavy side, but he wasn't that bad… was he? Maybe it was something about enjoying setting things on fire or a red hoodie that deflected her attention.

Gold sighed, brushing his short black hair back out of his face. He looked up and gave a quick look around his room. It was a small room; very little furniture. It had a bed, a small desk that doubled as a chest, a chair, and a bureau with a round oak boarder mirror. Books, some open facedown and others closed, littered the floor along with cigarette butts and empty brown beer bottles. A well-crafted iron dagger, an untouched six-pack, some general survival tools and a second identical folded hoodie sit next to some more mundane items on the bureau across the room from him.

Nothing interesting; Brian looked back down at his feet. His thoughts drew back to what had happened with Robin, and the hurt in his heart came back. It was horrible, but familiar. This wasn't the first time he had his heart broken, let alone by the same person. It felt like something inside of him was dying and sinking to the bottom... Something poked at his mind, and he looked back up at the six pack of beer.

"Perhaps a drink can clear my head…" The fire demon mumbles, standing up from the side of his bed draped in orange sheets. After pulling on some black pants and shoes from beside his bed he slumps over to the bureau and grabs the cardboard handle of the pack and a lighter and heads out through the door. It opened to the outside which led to a ladder from the tree house to the ground.

Blinded by the sun, Brian raises his arm and covers his eyes; once the glare goes away he clenches the cardboard handle with his teeth and climbs down the ladder. He rushes past the others, who were chatting about their plans for what to do about the Tree of Death, and heads out for nowhere in particular.

The next hour consisted of wandering around the local forest, setting fire to random bushes, stabbing trees and guzzling the beverages he'd brought with him. By the third drink he'd become woozy and stumbled over a root, collapsing to the ground and shattering two of his empty bottles. Crying out in pain as pieces of the glass pierced his hand; he wearily decided he should head back. Halfway back to the house he began to speed up, realizing his hand was sliced open and that he got a lump of mud in the wound.

Bursting through his house door Gold stumbled over to his desk and flung it open, rummaging blindly through it trying to find something to clean the wound. To his dismay the only thing he found was a bottle of water.

"Well fuck…" Brian grumbled to himself, and dry heaved as his stomach gave a sudden lurch. Standing shakily back to his feet he rushed over to his bureau. Catching himself on the edge to keep from falling over, he glances up at his reflection. What he saw was pathetic. His eyes were completely glossed over and his hair was a rat's nest; his golden tanned skin was streaked with dirt and the fire in his left eye was dimming. Trying his best to focus his dizzy vision, he stands straight and pops the water bottle open and shakily holds his open hand out.

Briefly preparing himself for the pain, he dumps it into his hand and shrieks at the burning sensation of the water touching his flesh; his palm turns deep red and he drops the bottle and falls to his knees, clutching onto the wrist of his burnt hand. Brian places his forehead against the bureau as some tears streak down his face. Gasping he stands back up, only to stumble in his intoxication and fall to the floor. The room was spinning, and for a long time he lay there in pain.

Finally a few minutes later Gold's vision stopped swimming, and the pain dulled a bit, but suddenly it was his heart that was becoming unbearable. A deep feeling of loneliness was washing over him, and giving up the will to stand up; he just lay there on his side staring at the floor. About an hour later he woke up after passing out; the wound on his hand had stopped bleeding and the burn on his hand had healed. Brian groans and slowly sits up, remembering why he decided to drink in the first place.

Robin.

"Damnit…" The pyro chokes, and sits his back against the bureau sobbing into his hands. He felt so lonely; he didn't have anyone, unlike the others. Nobody particularly liked him being around; his brother wanted him dead; his family was all zombies. Gold began to sob harder in more pain. Was he worthless to them? Robin hated him…. Robin hated him. Those words echoed in his head. Why her? If she was happy with him he wouldn't mind so much, but she made him feel so worthless, so unloved.

Brian choked back the tears and struggled to get a grip on himself. Brushing his tears and the dirt away from his face, he stood up against the weight of his sadness and leaned on the bureau to stare at his reflection. Glancing down at the stuff on top, a certain object glinted in the light of the torches and caught his eye. It was small, a bit bigger than his eye, with a metal protection case that slipped off.

It was the razorblade he'd use to open letters... but the longer he stared at it, the louder an idea for a different use in his mind grew. Tearing his eyes away from it he looked at his reflection with an unsure expression, and then back to the razorblade. With a small spark of hope his conscious argued on the idea. Maybe… It might just… make the pain stop. He reasoned. Hesitantly he reached down and picked it up, flicking the cover off with his thumb.

The fire demon glanced around the room for a moment, then forced the blade into his pants pocket, then grabbed the remaining three beers and stowed two of them in his hoodie pocket. Without a word he stalked out of the camp, popping open the drink in his hand and up ending it.

Trudging through the forest, he came to a small quiet grove and overhanging of trees at the foot of a mountain. It was peaceful, and quiet, with just the sound of the breeze and quiet chirping of animals. Brian sniffled; finding a nice shaded spot beneath the nearby trees, he threw his back against the stiff trunk of the overhanging tree and inched down it to the ground.

Gulping down two of the bottles of bitter but warming fluid, Gold lost himself in his thoughts, which gradually grew more and more clouded with each sip. Reaching his third bottle, something poked his leg in his pocket. Reaching into his pocket with his free hand, he pulled out the unmasked razor blade. Oh yeah, he'd almost forgotten he brought that. Why did he bring it again…?

The reason dawned on him and he sunk down, that feeling of hopelessness and the horrible feeling that he was utterly alone and unloved returned. His heart grew heavy and he felt the tears returning again. The voice of reason spoke against what he was about to do, but he shoved it to the back of his clouded mind and gently put the near empty beer bottle down beside him. Brian shuddered, letting out a shaken breath and turned his arm up so that his wrist was showing.

He carefully folded his sleeve up and bent his hand back; the tears came back. They did this to him. This was the only way to… to maybe get some relief. Slowly raising the razorblade, he put it to the edge of his wrist, pressing down so he could feel the pressure of the blade. He choked out a sob and pinched his eyes shut; with a moment's hesitation he quickly ran the razorblade across his wrist, cutting the skin open and letting out a small splurge of blood.

Brian cried out in pain, but bit his lip and choked back the sobs. He opened his eyes and looked at what he had done. The cut grew a thick steady stream of crimson which dripped down his hand and to the grass. It stung badly, but after a moment came a second of bliss. Gold breathed heavily, a single tear running down his face. After a moment, a weak smile came to his face; it was like a heavy force that had been in his heart just gave away… and it felt amazing. Raising the blade back to his wrist he ran over it again, deepening the wound and increasing the bleeding. It still hurt, but he ignored the pain.

"It… hurts." Gold moaned through a sad fang ridden smile. Taking in the moment of relief, he leaned his head back and shut his eyes, but as fast as it came the feeling vanished, and all that was left was the sting. When the bliss went away, Brian snapped to his senses and yelled in pain; it stung so badly. It was like someone pressed hot charcoals against his wrist; the blood spilled down his hand and pooled in the grass beside him.

The fire demon shuddered and broke into a fit of sobs, dropping the razor and burying his face into his hand; the tears wouldn't stop coming. He was shocked at what he'd just done, and how pathetic he was becoming. He was pathetic. His heart hurt worse than before; Robin, why couldn't she just see how much he cared about her. In a final effort, he stood up and raised his bleeding wrist, letting the blood drip on the tree and he drew a shape on it with his hand. He then slumped back to the ground, leaving a heart marked in blood with a single drop slipping down the center on the tree, forming a crack.

After that, he just gave up. Brian sobbed, letting his wound bleed as he began to turn pale. If it weren't for the mix of nausea and blood loss that caused his voice to weaken, he wouldn't have heard Robin and Blaze's distant laughter as they walked down the dirt path towards the clearing where they would share cake and joyous memories. Where they would find him bleeding out, with a broken heart...