Warning: Suicide, so if you're uncomfortable with that, I suggest you do not read this. Later on there may or may not be some violence, not too graphic or anything but I thought I should put that out there, just in case.
Dedicated to my friend, Peper, who also gave me this prompt. I just fell in love with it. It's a little confusing at first I'll admit, but bear with me.
Disclaimer: All characters belong to CP Coulter.
Cross my heart,
And hope to die,
Before I have the chance to lie
To you, my dear, who I wish no harm.
But I know, in the end, this will turn out wrong.
He hadn't meant to die.
Not really.
But whether he had meant to or not, it didn't matter anymore.
What's done is done.
Is…Is this what it was like to disappear?
He wasn't quite sure if he did feel anything—at all.
Nothing.
That's what it was.
Limbo.
Forever suspended in-
Nothing.
There are studies about how prisoners are driven mad during prolonged periods of time spent in solitary confinement.
Humans are social creatures. It isn't purely the need for physical touch but the emotional and mental need as well.
Humans need interaction.
To be near their own kind.
Humans cannot spend all their time—stuck—listening to their own thoughts, it drives them mad.
Humans, he thought, are not supposed to be here.
Was that a tug?
But, he couldn't feel, could he?
He wasn't-
He couldn't feel.
Yet suddenly, a wave of heat washed over him—if there was a 'him' at all—it was burning, painful.
It ran through him, whatever he was made of—atoms, particles—they were on fire with the shock of the pain that was coursing through him.
Something was pulling him.
If he still had a body, it would be described as being pulled by the pit of his stomach, flying every which way and not having any idea of what was happening because he had forgotten.
Julian had forgotten what it was like to feel.
….
He could feel.
One final tug and the nothingness vanished.
He vanished.
He had forgotten pain.
He had forgotten a great number of things.
He had forgotten himself.
Logan Wright didn't feel.
His heart was pumping. He was breathing. He could feel the grass against his legs and the rough bark against his back.
But he didn't feel.
He didn't think he deserved to feel, especially now, as he leaned against the tree that stood tall by his grave. He still took his pills.
He felt his fingers rip apart pieces of grass uselessly, he stared at the grey headstone but he didn't see it.
He wasn't there.
He was lost in the nightmares that had once plagued him during the dark hours of the night and now crept into his mind during the day—he had thought it would be safe. That maybe the warmth of the sun could keep the dreams and his fears away, but of course, he was wrong. Memories bombarded him, day and night, he was too exhausted to sleep.
He turned his gaze towards the small pond, with dulled green eyes.
They were hardly even green anymore. Nearly black.
Had Julian been there to see it, it would've shattered his already broken heart.
But Julian wasn't there, and Logan was barely living.
It had only been a few weeks.
Two weeks, three days.
Seven hours.
37 minutes.
Logan had started counting hours and minutes…how odd, he had only thought that it was something people did in movies and TV shows to be overly dramatic.
But there was nothing dramatic about this.
He realized he had to count the hours. He had to know how long it had been since his best friend died. He couldn't focus without making sure he knew how long it had been and then he had only the empty future without him to look forward to.
And sometimes he forgot.
He simply forgot.
Just this morning, he had gone into his room to return a long lost shirt that he had found.
He continued to tear the grass.
Derek had walked in—he had been looking for Logan—of course, he knew he would be there. He had simply leaned against the doorway as Logan stood in the middle of the empty room, not moving, not noticing him at all for a little less than an hour before Derek finally decided to pull him out.
He'd seen the defeated look in Derek's eyes when he saw that Logan had been clutching the shirt in his hands before limply dropping it on the floor.
And he had also seen the broken look in Derek's eyes when he sank to his knees and covered his eyes, hiding his tears that suddenly decided to fall, relentlessly.
It was the first time he had cried since that night.
Logan turned back to the smooth headstone, the letters of his name clearly standing out and dancing across his eyes.
A light breeze ruffled his hair and clothes, sweeping through the leaves overhead and caressing his skin as he leaned forward and brushed his fingers against the stone, it was cool to the touch.
He fiddled with the tulip, flipping it in his hands as his slender fingers played with the waxy white petals. He hadn't been able to put a flower at his grave yet. It felt too final, he wasn't ready to say goodbye just yet.
He didn't think he ever would be.
Not when he knew.
All those years….
Julian never uttered a word.
And now he never would.
Logan could only hear it from Derek, but he didn't want to anymore. He didn't want to hear it ringing in his own ears as he lay awake at night, waiting for the exhaustion to take him and put him under but it never did. Over and over again, it was like Julian was there, whispering in his ear. It was driving him mad.
He closed his eyes, tilting his head back; his eyelids were dark with lack of sleep.
He didn't want to be reminded about how he ended his best friend's life.
Julian opened his eyes.
Why was he seeing blue?
The lightest shade of blue he had ever seen, it was searing into his mind, and he felt as if he hadn't seen the sky in-well-forever.
He blinked, the bright sun bringing tears to his eyes as he took a deep breath, fresh air filling his lungs.
It felt as if he hadn't been him in a long time.
A sound broke through his thoughts. He lay still, debating about whether he even wanted to move.
…Could he even sit up?
He wasn't quite sure, he hadn't remembered what that felt like.
The feeling of being able to feel overwhelmed him for a brief moment and he gasped, his eyes clamping shut with the frustrating confusion that threatened to drive him over the edge.
He heard the sound again and he slowly sat up.
He was in some sort of field, but he blinked and soon there were grey headstones sticking out of the ground.
Then flowers—
—then clouds—
—then grass—
—and then—
—people.
Dressed in black, tears tracked down their faces and their eyes filled with grief. Grief and pain from losing a loved one.
Something inside him flinched at the sight.
Though it was just a funeral, there was nothing to be disgusted or fearful of.
Well, he thought, I shouldn't impose.
Rolling unsteadily to his feet, he stumbled a bit before regaining balance.
He had no idea why he was there.
Must've been a dream.
All of it.
The roses, the stalker, the pain and constant fear.
The pills.
He felt something nagging at him, there was something else disturbing about that dream, something else important—very important.
He couldn't quite put his finger on it.
….Green?
Something very green.
He mused as he silently walked past the group of mourners, they didn't notice him at all. Could something be 'very green'?
His dreams never made sense. But they weren't supposed to, were they?
He still didn't know why he was here in this cemetery, or what happened.
And for some odd reason, it didn't bother him. Something told him that he should care and he should be worried—more than worried—but he pushed it away.
Something very green?
He made an annoyed sound in the back of his throat, forgetting that the mourners were there but when he glanced up at them-not a single one of them saw him. Slightly confused, he rushed past, something was off. Nothing felt right.
He realized that it wasn't that they didn't notice him.
They didn't see him.
He panicked.
Why couldn't they see him?
He was there, wasn't he?
Suddenly, that feeling of being pulled came over him again and he felt that maybe he was still dreaming. Urgent tugging—someone, or something, was obviously trying to get his attention.
He looked down at his wrist, a thin red string was tied around it and he stared at the line that was pulling him. The string was taut and started pulling harder as he continued to stubbornly stand still.
He felt the slight edge of fear creep into his thoughts—but what could he be so scared of?
Finally, the pull won and Julian reluctantly let it guide him—following the path to whoever was pulling on the opposite end.
It wasn't long before he started to approach the edge of the cemetery, it was nicer here, a small pond, a few trees. His gaze traveling down the string as far as he could see, it seemed to lead to the tree closest to the pond.
He lazily walked up, curious about who was pulling him when all of a sudden, something felt terribly wrong.
Everything felt terribly wrong.
He was suddenly too conscious of how he did not feel his clothes, no soft brush of fabric.
The leaves on the trees were quivering in the wind and ripples traveled across the water of the pond yet he did not feel the breeze against his own skin.
The sun was blazing brightly, it was the afternoon, and he should be squinting. He should have felt the heat on his skin.
But he didn't.
He wanted to stop walking. Everything told him to stop walking, he was screaming at himself to stop and run as far as he could in the opposite direction.
But he kept walking towards the tree, a figure sat at the base, his feet moving on their own, as if a siren were calling and beckoning but-like the entranced sailors they sang to their deaths-he kept moving forward.
Close your eyes, close you eyes, close your eyes.
He kept his eyes open.
And—
Everything hit him.
That missing piece, the other part of his dream.
What happened after the pills.
What he had been pulled back from.
Why he didn't feel the warmth of the sun.
Nothingness.
A broken voice seemed to flow from his lips as he finally stopped walking.
He was dreaming.
A nightmare, the nightmare, it was real.
Something very green.
"-Logan."
See—I've been known to fall in love
But sometimes love just is not enough.
And my heart will stray, before too long.
So please forgive me…
When I sing this song.