The lonliness was too much.
(Give me a sign)
He was (((Given))) never given a chance.
He should have been drowned
Burned
Thrown away
For what he had been born as.
One.
Two.
Three.
Never was and never has been.
(Give me a sign to stay. One goddamn look and I won't leave.)
"You can't stay."
Diego pushing his out the door.
"You can sleep on my couch if you stay clean."
Vanya calm but stern.
The others...
The others never spoke of it.
Hushed voices and smiles when he entered the room.
Mom didn't talk about it, she didn't know.
It would break his heart.
It didn't exist.
(Give me the one thing I need, baby. A life without fucking up the one good thing I had.)
It didn't exist.
So why deny it then?
Late nights and bottled shared with friends that he couldn't talk to.
No one understands a washed out child hero.
Books.
Comics.
Toys.
People don't get you, but they get the piece of you they want.
They told him he'd get better.
They always told him that.
Breathing was overrated when all he wanted was to drown.
But why did his lungs still fight when given the choice?
Death was following close
and he would greet it like an old friend.
(Baby, the door has shut. You're on the other side.
You can't come back in.
I won't let you.
You won't let you.
Call me if you need anything.)