Dying Slowly
"I'm dying slowly" he huffed, throwing himself in his bed, making a head-dive into his pillow, letting the cold, soft cotton caress his baby soft cheek. He sight, because this was to comfortable, but if he was to lie in this position then he couldn't breathe
So he took a last big inhale of the lined, to make him relax, to remember.
He grabbed his pillow and curled up around it.
As he lay there with his black hair ruffled by the bed, he was still numb because his brain was still in shock.
How could it have happened? how could the fates be so cruel to him?
Had he not done everything in his power to help? What was wrong with the universe? He decided that there were no Gods, because if there were how could they let this happen? How could all his happiness have been turned into tears?
He toke long slow breaths to smell the lined, to make him numb, to make him relax, and to make him forget.
To forget the pain that came with the memories.
He fell asleep and dreamt of warmth, the kind of warmth that ony could exist between people, he was lying in bed with warmth and comfort of a person om his back.
He dreamt of hands ghosting over his body, dreamt of whispering voices and of soft pleas.
He dreamt of golden hair in the son, long and clearly.
He dreamt of the most beautiful storm grey eyes that had ever existed. He dreamt of hidden smiles and stolen kisses in the dark.
He dreamt of summer camp, oranges T-shirts and Yankee caps.
How could he ever dream again?
He dreamt of dream that came true.
But now the dream was only a memory of something that ones was. The dream had turned into a nightmare.
Again he took a deep of the linden, it still smelt of her.
He broke in to tears, he was in fact dying slowly.