I pull my car up and stop in front of a house. I pull a piece of paper out
of my pocket and check the address to confirm it.
Yes, his house.
I pull the keys out of the ignition and lean back in my seat. I admit, I was nervous, but I really couldn't tell why. It kinda reminds me of when I'm in the room, and its dark but not quite dark enough, light enough to see shadows. And my mind just keeps bringing up damned monsters from stupid kid tales, or made up creatures from my own imagination. I know, completely sure that they don't exist, but I always have to turn on a light, sit up and look around. for hours until I just pass out. Fake fear, I know the monsters don't exist, and I know that if I turn off the light and lay down that the abominable snow man isn't gonna leap up on me and rip me to shreds. It just feels like it would happen, I'm not even scared of death, I mean, I've nearly died a couple times, being a gundam pilot, I was faced with death day after day. I just don't find being ripped to shreds by some huge hairy ugly thing to be something I would want.
Ok, I was sure I was just hesitating now. I was almost scared to knock on the door, and I couldn't pinpoint why. I've actually been feeling kinda paranoid for a little more then a day now. I've gotten this way before, kinda paranoid, and sometimes it was because something really bad had actually happened, and other times actually nothing happened.
I take a deep breath and open the car door, big accomplishment; I step onto the pavement but don't fully get out of the car yet.
I've been worrying about him lately. for apparently the same reason I'm scared now, there is no reason, I just have.
I step onto the road, close the car door and walk up to the front door. My hands are shaking the slightest bit.
Honestly! There's nothing to be scared of, I feel so stupid! Just like those nights when I can't sleep for the childish reasons.
I reach my hand up to knock on the door and pause. My stomach is in knots and my chest is tight. Damn, I get so annoyed with myself sometimes.
I swallow and knock loudly on the door.
..
Silence. I knock again.
..
Still nothing.
My stomach twists even tighter, and I start to get more scared with myself. I'm breathing shallow now, which pisses me off even more.
He's probably listening to his music super loud like he normally does, or he cant hear anything anymore from listening to his music that loud. I knock again, louder this time.
I should just turn around and go home. I came uninvited, he didn't even give me his address, and I managed to find it myself. He's probably doing fine, I'm just a paranoid freak.
Still. I would feel better if I saw his face, we hadn't actually met in real life for a couple months, sure, we talked on vid-phone but it's a lot different.
I run my fingers through my blond bangs and knock again; my heart's beating a little faster now. He still hasn't answered the door.
I check the doorknob and to my surprise find it unlocked. Trying to push away my stupid childish fear I step in and call out his name.
No response.
"DUO!!" I call again.
Nothing.
He has to be home, his car was still out in front of his house, and he would NEVER leave his house without locking the door, I know that much about him.
Then I noticed the slightly funny smell. I wracked my brain on what it could be but I couldn't think of anything, just a vague scent, kinda. metallic, but not quite. And it wasn't terribly strong either, just. vague. But my hands were shaking more now, my breath was shallower, my heart was being faster, a slight cold sweat was forming on my brow.
I felt positively terrified, and positively angry at the fact I did. I took a deep breath and closed the door behind me as I walked a little further into the house, calling out his name a few more times.
I walked a little further, my legs starting to shake only the slightest bit. I come to a door that, according to the words on it -is the residence of the god of death- I chuckle slightly, though my stomach flips -again-. I knock on the door a few times; call out his name a few times, and after doing that, without getting any response. I open the door slowly.
I cover my nose and mouth with my hands as the unidentifiably smell becomes overpowering. A split second later my mind overcomes the powerful scent and takes notice in the room.
My legs collapse under me and I sink to the floor, still covering my mouth, unable to close my eyes.
The first thing that came to mind was that there was a robbery. A very destructive robbery.
Then I saw the spots of blood scattered around almost the entire room, the walls, the floor, there was even a spot or two on the ceiling. There was glass everywhere, shards of mirrors, broken chairs, a computer and a stereo were crashed into each other, shreds of posters were on the floor and some remains on the walls. My mind could barely take in the amount of damage; it almost resembled a small war zone.
My mind echoed the word 'murder' as I took notice of the blood again. I was then able to close my eyes. I breathed deeply, trying not to pass out, and at the same time trying to resist the urge to throw up right then and there. I ran my fingers through my hair a few times, my heart was pounding against my ribs, and beating so heavily it was all I could hear. I don't know how long I sat there breathing, not looking at it all, but I eventually got over the initial panic and took a deep breath, halfway standing up, supporting myself on the door frame.
"D-Duo.. its.. it's me.. Quatre. are.. are you in here." I called out hopelessly, barely more then a whisper. God please don't let him be in there, PLEASE don't let him be in here.
using the wall as support I walked a little further into the room, stepping slowly, my legs almost feeling as if they weren't there. I look around the room, paling at the amount of destruction. Then my eyes fall upon my worst fears.
"Ohmygod! DUO!" I run over and kneel down next to him. Barely breathing, heart pounding, my hands were shaking violently, my entire body felt cold, my mind was on shut down as I could barely take in the barely distinguishable body of my best friend.
My knees felt damp. My stomach twisted as I realized I kneeled down in his blood.
It didn't feel real. He. he.. Duo. it couldn't be him. He.. he was. destroyed. Mutilated. My god! there must have been close to a thousand individual slashes, deep.
Oh my god.
I reached my hand out slowly, shakily, and touched his face.
I twisted my body away from his as fast as I could and threw up.
His body was still warm. He was still fucking warm!
I threw up until I couldn't anymore, I just dry heaved.
I wiped my mouth on my sleeve. Hot tears were pouring uncontrollably down my face.
I slowly turn back around to face him, my entire body shaking uncontrollably. There's blood everywhere. he's.. he's completely destroyed. tears pour down my face.
It's sickening. Unbelievable. This cant be real.
I expect to wake up at any minute.
The destruction.
More tears pour down my face, I take hold of him by the shoulders and pull his still warm, lifeless body halfway into my lap, literally sobbing.
Everything feels so empty, unrealistic.
GOD I HATE THIS!!
I cling to Duo's lifeless body and sob uncontrollably. His still-not dry blood soaks through my clothing.
I loved him.
God.. how could this happen.. why did this happen!! Dammit. I.. I was gonna call him and invite him over for tea or something.. and tell him. that I loved him. I knew he loved me too.. I could just tell.. we both knew, we just never said it..
I cling to him tighter.
I loved him.. I loved him!! And he..
He's dead.
The mere thought that he.. my love.. could be dead felt WRONG, invasive.. unreal. I felt sick. So. Utterly. Sick.
Through my tears I noticed the fairly large amount of razor blades scattered around the floor, and his hands, bloodied up with shards of mirror, glass and wood.
There was a razor on the floor near where his hand was.
I almost threw up again.
He did this to himself.
I started to hyperventilate.
How could he have done this to himself?!
Just the fact that I thought someone did this to him felt a little better then knowing he did this. he killed himself. He. why.. why didn't he call me or come over or SOMETHING?!?
He didn't love me. or.. didn't know .. that I loved him.
Guilt.
This is my fault. I.. I should have known something was wrong.. I should have called earlier.
If I just called before I decided to come over I might have been able to stop this. he.. he hasn't been dead long. he.he.
He's dead. The man I loved is dead.
I wanted to spend my life with him.
I tried to wipe my tears away, as a cold calm overcame me. I picked up a razor from the floor.
I was still crying, still hyperventilating. I looked at the razor, everything looked blurry as tears continued to stream down my face.
I never really ever thought of suicide before, not seriously before, sure, every now and then I wished I was never born, or thought I would be better off dead. But I never really considered suicide. during what I called the darkest time of my life Duo was there. He made it all so much better.
For the longest time I tried to convince myself that it was a stupid childish crush or something, or not even that, just someone to cling to in the war, a friend. I even saw him as family, or the closest thing I had to family at one point. I thought I was just clinging, and that in due time I would get over it and actually fall in love with someone else, perhaps even a girl, since I never really considered myself gay, until I met him.
But it wasn't a stupid obsession. It never lightened up, it just kept getting more serious, every time I would hear his voice, or see his face I would realize just how much he meant to me. When he would tell me things about his past, or present or just joke about nothing I fell in love, every word he ever spoke threw me that much deeper. I didn't care if it made me gay or not, I didn't care even if he really didn't love me back, just to know that what I felt for him was true, and that I would be able to be with him, even if only as friends on the weekends or over the phone. Everything was so perfect for me to just know that somewhere he was out there, maybe thinking of me the same way.
I loved him. With everything I was I loved him.
And he's dead.
I stared at the razor, there was dried blood on it. His blood. 'And soon it will be mine too' my mind whispers in silent surrender.
I felt so cold.
I pulled my sleeves up, not so much sobbing anymore as I was just silently crying. I loved him. I'm nothing without him.
I put the razor to my wrist and stared. I felt so cold. I didn't think I could do it. I wasn't afraid of death. but suicide. was something completely different.
I looked at his body again, at all the gaping wounds, all the blood.
For a while I even admired him, how he could always be so lively, how he could make me laugh. He was always so much stronger then I was, with almost everything. I looked up to him. I always said I didn't want to be -exactly- like him, but I guess on some level I did.
He did this to himself. He committed suicide.
I take a calmer, deep breath and pull the razor deeply through the entire length of my arm. Blood immediately began to form and pool up, quickly rolling down off my arm.
If he could do it. I could do it.
I take the razor and weakly do to my other arm what I did to my first one.
I drop the razor on the floor, and entwine my fingers with Duo's. Our blood mixes with each other's. Keeping my fingers still in his I wrap my arms around him, hugging him from behind. My tears continue pouring down my face, wetting his shorter hair.
I couldn't even comprehend what he was feeling. the anger that was so clearly shown in the destruction of his room, the complete mutilation of his body, even to the limit of cutting off his braid.
Pain was lacing through my body, pain of so many levels I couldn't even think to count them.
Things began to feel a little floaty. I was aware that I was dying, I knew I did indeed split my veins open.
I knew I was dying. I was dying and Duo was dead.
We would be together forever.
Just how I planned.
I'm not positively sure if I closed my eyes or if my vision went black, but its dark, and I'm feeling decidedly weak.
If there was such a thing as afterlife. I could only hope I spent it with Duo.
I loved him.
Yes, his house.
I pull the keys out of the ignition and lean back in my seat. I admit, I was nervous, but I really couldn't tell why. It kinda reminds me of when I'm in the room, and its dark but not quite dark enough, light enough to see shadows. And my mind just keeps bringing up damned monsters from stupid kid tales, or made up creatures from my own imagination. I know, completely sure that they don't exist, but I always have to turn on a light, sit up and look around. for hours until I just pass out. Fake fear, I know the monsters don't exist, and I know that if I turn off the light and lay down that the abominable snow man isn't gonna leap up on me and rip me to shreds. It just feels like it would happen, I'm not even scared of death, I mean, I've nearly died a couple times, being a gundam pilot, I was faced with death day after day. I just don't find being ripped to shreds by some huge hairy ugly thing to be something I would want.
Ok, I was sure I was just hesitating now. I was almost scared to knock on the door, and I couldn't pinpoint why. I've actually been feeling kinda paranoid for a little more then a day now. I've gotten this way before, kinda paranoid, and sometimes it was because something really bad had actually happened, and other times actually nothing happened.
I take a deep breath and open the car door, big accomplishment; I step onto the pavement but don't fully get out of the car yet.
I've been worrying about him lately. for apparently the same reason I'm scared now, there is no reason, I just have.
I step onto the road, close the car door and walk up to the front door. My hands are shaking the slightest bit.
Honestly! There's nothing to be scared of, I feel so stupid! Just like those nights when I can't sleep for the childish reasons.
I reach my hand up to knock on the door and pause. My stomach is in knots and my chest is tight. Damn, I get so annoyed with myself sometimes.
I swallow and knock loudly on the door.
..
Silence. I knock again.
..
Still nothing.
My stomach twists even tighter, and I start to get more scared with myself. I'm breathing shallow now, which pisses me off even more.
He's probably listening to his music super loud like he normally does, or he cant hear anything anymore from listening to his music that loud. I knock again, louder this time.
I should just turn around and go home. I came uninvited, he didn't even give me his address, and I managed to find it myself. He's probably doing fine, I'm just a paranoid freak.
Still. I would feel better if I saw his face, we hadn't actually met in real life for a couple months, sure, we talked on vid-phone but it's a lot different.
I run my fingers through my blond bangs and knock again; my heart's beating a little faster now. He still hasn't answered the door.
I check the doorknob and to my surprise find it unlocked. Trying to push away my stupid childish fear I step in and call out his name.
No response.
"DUO!!" I call again.
Nothing.
He has to be home, his car was still out in front of his house, and he would NEVER leave his house without locking the door, I know that much about him.
Then I noticed the slightly funny smell. I wracked my brain on what it could be but I couldn't think of anything, just a vague scent, kinda. metallic, but not quite. And it wasn't terribly strong either, just. vague. But my hands were shaking more now, my breath was shallower, my heart was being faster, a slight cold sweat was forming on my brow.
I felt positively terrified, and positively angry at the fact I did. I took a deep breath and closed the door behind me as I walked a little further into the house, calling out his name a few more times.
I walked a little further, my legs starting to shake only the slightest bit. I come to a door that, according to the words on it -is the residence of the god of death- I chuckle slightly, though my stomach flips -again-. I knock on the door a few times; call out his name a few times, and after doing that, without getting any response. I open the door slowly.
I cover my nose and mouth with my hands as the unidentifiably smell becomes overpowering. A split second later my mind overcomes the powerful scent and takes notice in the room.
My legs collapse under me and I sink to the floor, still covering my mouth, unable to close my eyes.
The first thing that came to mind was that there was a robbery. A very destructive robbery.
Then I saw the spots of blood scattered around almost the entire room, the walls, the floor, there was even a spot or two on the ceiling. There was glass everywhere, shards of mirrors, broken chairs, a computer and a stereo were crashed into each other, shreds of posters were on the floor and some remains on the walls. My mind could barely take in the amount of damage; it almost resembled a small war zone.
My mind echoed the word 'murder' as I took notice of the blood again. I was then able to close my eyes. I breathed deeply, trying not to pass out, and at the same time trying to resist the urge to throw up right then and there. I ran my fingers through my hair a few times, my heart was pounding against my ribs, and beating so heavily it was all I could hear. I don't know how long I sat there breathing, not looking at it all, but I eventually got over the initial panic and took a deep breath, halfway standing up, supporting myself on the door frame.
"D-Duo.. its.. it's me.. Quatre. are.. are you in here." I called out hopelessly, barely more then a whisper. God please don't let him be in there, PLEASE don't let him be in here.
using the wall as support I walked a little further into the room, stepping slowly, my legs almost feeling as if they weren't there. I look around the room, paling at the amount of destruction. Then my eyes fall upon my worst fears.
"Ohmygod! DUO!" I run over and kneel down next to him. Barely breathing, heart pounding, my hands were shaking violently, my entire body felt cold, my mind was on shut down as I could barely take in the barely distinguishable body of my best friend.
My knees felt damp. My stomach twisted as I realized I kneeled down in his blood.
It didn't feel real. He. he.. Duo. it couldn't be him. He.. he was. destroyed. Mutilated. My god! there must have been close to a thousand individual slashes, deep.
Oh my god.
I reached my hand out slowly, shakily, and touched his face.
I twisted my body away from his as fast as I could and threw up.
His body was still warm. He was still fucking warm!
I threw up until I couldn't anymore, I just dry heaved.
I wiped my mouth on my sleeve. Hot tears were pouring uncontrollably down my face.
I slowly turn back around to face him, my entire body shaking uncontrollably. There's blood everywhere. he's.. he's completely destroyed. tears pour down my face.
It's sickening. Unbelievable. This cant be real.
I expect to wake up at any minute.
The destruction.
More tears pour down my face, I take hold of him by the shoulders and pull his still warm, lifeless body halfway into my lap, literally sobbing.
Everything feels so empty, unrealistic.
GOD I HATE THIS!!
I cling to Duo's lifeless body and sob uncontrollably. His still-not dry blood soaks through my clothing.
I loved him.
God.. how could this happen.. why did this happen!! Dammit. I.. I was gonna call him and invite him over for tea or something.. and tell him. that I loved him. I knew he loved me too.. I could just tell.. we both knew, we just never said it..
I cling to him tighter.
I loved him.. I loved him!! And he..
He's dead.
The mere thought that he.. my love.. could be dead felt WRONG, invasive.. unreal. I felt sick. So. Utterly. Sick.
Through my tears I noticed the fairly large amount of razor blades scattered around the floor, and his hands, bloodied up with shards of mirror, glass and wood.
There was a razor on the floor near where his hand was.
I almost threw up again.
He did this to himself.
I started to hyperventilate.
How could he have done this to himself?!
Just the fact that I thought someone did this to him felt a little better then knowing he did this. he killed himself. He. why.. why didn't he call me or come over or SOMETHING?!?
He didn't love me. or.. didn't know .. that I loved him.
Guilt.
This is my fault. I.. I should have known something was wrong.. I should have called earlier.
If I just called before I decided to come over I might have been able to stop this. he.. he hasn't been dead long. he.he.
He's dead. The man I loved is dead.
I wanted to spend my life with him.
I tried to wipe my tears away, as a cold calm overcame me. I picked up a razor from the floor.
I was still crying, still hyperventilating. I looked at the razor, everything looked blurry as tears continued to stream down my face.
I never really ever thought of suicide before, not seriously before, sure, every now and then I wished I was never born, or thought I would be better off dead. But I never really considered suicide. during what I called the darkest time of my life Duo was there. He made it all so much better.
For the longest time I tried to convince myself that it was a stupid childish crush or something, or not even that, just someone to cling to in the war, a friend. I even saw him as family, or the closest thing I had to family at one point. I thought I was just clinging, and that in due time I would get over it and actually fall in love with someone else, perhaps even a girl, since I never really considered myself gay, until I met him.
But it wasn't a stupid obsession. It never lightened up, it just kept getting more serious, every time I would hear his voice, or see his face I would realize just how much he meant to me. When he would tell me things about his past, or present or just joke about nothing I fell in love, every word he ever spoke threw me that much deeper. I didn't care if it made me gay or not, I didn't care even if he really didn't love me back, just to know that what I felt for him was true, and that I would be able to be with him, even if only as friends on the weekends or over the phone. Everything was so perfect for me to just know that somewhere he was out there, maybe thinking of me the same way.
I loved him. With everything I was I loved him.
And he's dead.
I stared at the razor, there was dried blood on it. His blood. 'And soon it will be mine too' my mind whispers in silent surrender.
I felt so cold.
I pulled my sleeves up, not so much sobbing anymore as I was just silently crying. I loved him. I'm nothing without him.
I put the razor to my wrist and stared. I felt so cold. I didn't think I could do it. I wasn't afraid of death. but suicide. was something completely different.
I looked at his body again, at all the gaping wounds, all the blood.
For a while I even admired him, how he could always be so lively, how he could make me laugh. He was always so much stronger then I was, with almost everything. I looked up to him. I always said I didn't want to be -exactly- like him, but I guess on some level I did.
He did this to himself. He committed suicide.
I take a calmer, deep breath and pull the razor deeply through the entire length of my arm. Blood immediately began to form and pool up, quickly rolling down off my arm.
If he could do it. I could do it.
I take the razor and weakly do to my other arm what I did to my first one.
I drop the razor on the floor, and entwine my fingers with Duo's. Our blood mixes with each other's. Keeping my fingers still in his I wrap my arms around him, hugging him from behind. My tears continue pouring down my face, wetting his shorter hair.
I couldn't even comprehend what he was feeling. the anger that was so clearly shown in the destruction of his room, the complete mutilation of his body, even to the limit of cutting off his braid.
Pain was lacing through my body, pain of so many levels I couldn't even think to count them.
Things began to feel a little floaty. I was aware that I was dying, I knew I did indeed split my veins open.
I knew I was dying. I was dying and Duo was dead.
We would be together forever.
Just how I planned.
I'm not positively sure if I closed my eyes or if my vision went black, but its dark, and I'm feeling decidedly weak.
If there was such a thing as afterlife. I could only hope I spent it with Duo.
I loved him.