I write tragedy, okay, it's just what I do, because I have a sick mind. I come up with all that lovely fluffiness in the last songfic, and then I ruin it all by thinking of various horrible ways to pull them apart. Don't hate me.

Or do, it's not something I can have any control over, really, is it.

Erm, so yeah, this song has fascinated me since I first saw the video. So much so that I did a media project on it in Year 12. Part of this story is inspired more by the video, but I don't want to give too much away.

Warning: Apart from the aforementioned tragedy, this fic contains heavy drug abuse and the effects thereof.

Song is owned by Placebo.

Song to Say Goodbye

You are one of God's mistakes,

You crying, tragic waste of skin.

I'm well aware of how it aches,

And you still won't let me in.

You should never have come to exist.

Can't you see what you've put me through?

No, of course you can't. Can you even see anything any more? Can you see anything besides that needle and whatever shit you're loading into it?

Better you'd been choked at birth than left to live and put me through this.

I mean, can't you see that I love you? I fucking love you, you little twat. And you go and repay me that by doing this to me. It hurts me to see you like this. When I can even see you. You hardly even let me see you any more. You just run and lock yourself away and pump yourself full of god knows what and leave me down here worrying about you.

You selfish little bastard.

Sometimes I really do wish you'd never been born.

Now I'm breaking down your door

To try and save your swollen face,

Though I don't like you any more,

You lying, trying waste of space.

I've pounded the door, and there's no response. It's locked, so I know you're in there.

Vince, open the door, open the fucking door!

You're making me worry about you.

You come back, and you haven't even left the flat for days, and you come back with another black eye, and I'm wondering where the hell this one came from. Did you go to the dealer without the money you owe him? Did you try to steal something? Were you mugged; some sick twisted freak saw an addict as just another easy target? Or maybe you just walked into a lamppost again looking at your own bones in a window.

And now you're doing this.

Honestly, if you'd answered, told me to fuck off like you always do, I would have. I'd have left you locked in there to die like the human trash you are.

But you haven't. You won't answer or you can't answer, and that means there's something wrong, so I have to smash my way in to find out what the hell you've done to yourself this time.

If you were conscious, I'd let you die.

Before our innocence was lost,

You were always one of those

Blessed with lucky sevens

And a voice that made me cry.

Oh God.

You…

No!

How the fuck could this happen to you, of all people? How can it be you down there? That emaciated skeleton, twisted on your back surrounded by needles, barely breathing. If I didn't know it was you, I wouldn't have believed it.

God, you used to be so beautiful. And look at you now. If you knew what you were doing, you'd have hated what you've done to yourself.

You were always pale, the Shoreditch Vampire, and now you look like you need more blood in you. Look at you; you're grey. You were always skinny too. In fact, you weren't even always that skinny, when I first met you. Jesus, you're like a parody of yourself. You're just a skeleton with that hideous grey skin stretched over you. I remember how that t-shirt used to hug your figure so nicely, how happy you were when you found it, and now it's hanging off you, limp as you are. You're a mess. You're a tragic, wasted mess.

Are you awake? Are you looking at me? Can you see me, Vince?

All I can see is those bug-eyes fixed on me. How in the hell did they get even bigger? Your face is so bony now, they look like they're popping out of it. I think they're going to make me sick. So huge. They're so dry. My god, are you even remembering to blink?

But under that, they're still the same eyes. Still the same blue, just they look darker now, with your pupils so dilated. Still the same blue. Still the same man underneath. Just with a broken mind.

God, are you reaching up to me? I'm here, don't worry, I'm here. That little cry, that cracked, broken whine. Was that you? How can that be you? You used to sing, Vince, remember that? You had a beautiful voice. You could make people jump for joy, or forget everything they'd ever known. You could bring them to tears.

You had everything. Why did you go and give it up?

You were Mother Nature's son,

Someone to whom I could relate.

Do you know why I sought out you, instantly? I know everyone goes for you first, but not for the reason I did. They come to you, or they came to you, no one comes any more, because you were that urban legend, Vince Noir, Rock and Roll Star. They thought association with you would make them look better. I never cared about that. I mean, look at me- do I look like someone who cares about that?

No, I saw something else in you. Something you tried to cover up. And maybe you covered it up because it was something I liked. Because you were ashamed of me. Or maybe it was because you wanted to keep it just for me. I still tell myself that sometimes, you know, when I'm feeling like there might still be a chance for us.

I always… I saw the beauty in this world, you know. I was fascinated with it. And so were you. I could tell as soon as I saw you. We were thinking the same things; we just had different ways of showing it. I was open about it, always trying to understand, to analyse, to learn. And you were just happy to appreciate, just as happy up a tree as you were under a neon light, just as admiring of birdsong as those painful electro beats. You told me you weren't, but you were. I know you were. We were two sides of the same coin, you and me. Opposite ends of the same curve.

And I know you're still in there somewhere. Wake up, why won't you bloody wake up? I know you're still there, just say something, look at me, anything.

That's it, reach for me, baby, reach for me. Shit, you know I didn't mean it. I could never mean that.

I don't want you to die, Vince.

Now I'm trying to wake you up,

To pull you from the liquid sky,

'Cause if I don't we'll both end up

With just your song to say goodbye.

No, no, don't go limp! You stay awake, hang in there, I'm not having you leaving me just yet.

Wake up, you stupid fucking idiot!

Yeah, yeah, I'm shaking you. That hurt? Well good, it'll keep you awake. If you fall asleep now, god knows what might happen to you. I'm not risking that, you hear me! I am not letting this happen!

Can you breathe? Shit, you can't breathe. Come on, turn over. How can someone so light be unable to hold up their own weight? Jesus, you're in worse shape than I thought. You know what I'm gonna do now? I'm gonna give you a smack, as hard as you fucking deserve, right there between your shoulder blades. And it'll hurt you, but that's good, because you look like you need reminding that you're still alive.

Let it out, let it out, it's disgusting and it stinks, but at least it's not blocking your airways any more. That it? Come on, get away from it; I don't want you getting any more messed up than you already are.

That's it, little man, just breathe. Hold onto me, keep yourself upright, and breathe. Jesus, you feel like I'm holding a twig.

You need help, you know. You've got yourself into a really bad situation here, and you need help to get out of it. You can't see the damage you've done to yourself, but I can. It's a horrible sight. You stupid child, you need help.

My oh my,

A song to say goodbye.

You look disturbing, there. The seat dwarfs you, and the road's tossing you around like a little rag doll. You look like you've already died once. But there's something else, now that I've let you fall asleep. You're peaceful, even if you look disgusting. You're almost cute.

I'm so sorry I had to do this. I had no choice, little one, I hope you understand that. I can't cope with you any more.

Come on, wake up. You're here. Don't move, I'll get you out. Look at you, I'm practically carrying you. You can't even walk on your own any more.

How could I have let you get into this state? It won't happen again, I promise. You deserve the best, and nothing but. And you'll get it. I just can't handle it.

Here, take him. Please, be careful with him, he can hardly stand.

Oh, god, baby, please don't think badly of me for this. You know I can't handle it. I know I'll hear your whimpering and I'll feel your fingers as you try to keep me back, but you know I can't handle it.

You know I can't stay.