Disclaimer's Note: See first chapter-I'm too lazy to post it again. Oh, and
I don't own the song or the person singing it.
Song: Breathe Again by Toni Braxton
* * * * *Johnny's POV* * * * *
Damn you, Robert, how could you do this to yourself? After everything we've done together, you go ahead and kill yourself? Or at least try to? I thought you were stronger then that! I had so much faith in you. . . and you let me down. . .
I never told you that, of course. But I think you knew. You always looked so hurt whenever you looked at me. Was it that obvious? I'm known for kinda wearing my heart on my sleeve-everyone is always able to tell just what I'm feeling, no matter how angry I seem.
Anger. So far, I've used anger to cover up everything. But I'm so easy to see right through.Damnit Robert, why did you go and do it?! Didn't you realize how much we all cared about you?!!! How much I cared about you?!!! Answer me, you slit-wrist corpse!!!
//If I never feel you in my arms again, If I never feel your tender kiss again, If I never hear "I love you" now and then, Will I never make love to you once again? Please understand, if love ends, Then I promise you, I promise you that, That I shall never breathe again. Breathe again, breathe again, That I shall never breathe again.//
Okay, okay. You're not really a corpse. At least, not yet. But I'll admit it-I have very little faith of ever seeing you alive again. I'm glad I walked in when I did - you must've just slit your wrists.
I'd made up my mind. I was going to tell you how I felt about you. I decided I couldn't stand one more hurt glance my way. Oliver HAD told me that you loved me. I was waaay too nervous to make the first move-what if you didn't love me anymore? Oliver never lies, and he told me that you yourself told him how much you cared for me. But people's opinions do change. I'd shoved that all aside, however. I knew I wouldn't be able to last much longer in "what if" land. So I walked down to your private suite in the castle. I didn't even bother to knock - I just barged right in. And I saw you. . . lying there. . . on blood soaked sheets. There was so much blood, I thought it was a major wound, like someone had stabbed your heart to shreds or something. But that wasn't the case. When I realized the only wounds on you were the slits in your wrists. . . and that there was blood on your attack ring, which was separate from the rest of your blade. . . I swear I just about died. Oliver says I went hysterical. Wouldn't surprise me if I did. I have no memory as to what I did after I found you like that. Luckily, you were still alive. I was relieved, at first - I though I'd lost you, and that I'd never see you again. But after sitting by your bedside for one week, I'm beginning to give up hope. I think I can take solace in the fact that you're happy now. You must be - you committed suicide. Only people who are really depressed do that.
//And I can't stop thinking about,
about the way things used to be,
and I can't stop thinking about,
about the love that you made to me.
And I can't get you out of my head;
how in the world will I begin
to let you walk right out of my life
and throw my heart away?
And I can't stop caring about,
about the apple of my eye,
and I can't stop doing without,
without the center of my life.
And I can't get you out of my head,
and I know I can't pretend
that I won't die if you decide
you won't see me again. //
I just can't stop thinking about. . . well, about you. About what good friends we used to be - we were always together. About what a good couple we might've been. About your tall, lean body and chiseled face. About your keen red eyes and shiny (highly gelled) lavender hair. Good grief, how much hair gel did you use anyway? About all your qualities, good and bad, physical and mental. There's so many "what if"s. . .
// If I never feel you in my arms again,
if I never feel your tender kiss again,
if I never hear "I love you" now and then,
will I never make love to you once again?
Please understand, if love ends,
then I promise you, I promise you that,
that I shall never breathe again.
Breathe again, breathe again,
that I shall never breathe again.//
That does it. Who the h*** do I think I'm fooling? Gods, Robert, I want you to be alive, I honestly want you to, but you've been in a damn coma for what? A week? Seems like longer. How on earth can I be so calm? I'm so. . . well. . . I don't know how to put it. I'm thinking about so much stuff, and all at once. Things like "why did you do this to me, Robert?" and "what if I told him sooner" to "Tyson, the day I get my f***ing hands on you, you're gonna be deader (if that's even a word) then the food you eat AFTER you've eaten it."
Yeah, yeah, I know. It's surprising that someone as supposedly stupid as I am can be plagued by so many thoughts at once. Goddamnit, how come everyone thinks I'm stupid? Robert, my love, is that what you thought of me, too?
// And I can't stop thinking about,
about the way my life would be.
No, I can't stop thinking about,
how could you love me then leave?
And I can't get you out of my mind,
God knows how hard I've tried,
and if you walk right out my life,
God knows I'm sure to die.
And I can't stop doing without,
without the rhythm of my heart.
No, I can't stop doing without,
for I will surely fall apart.
And I can't get you out of my mind,
and I know I can't deny,
and I would die if you decide
you won't see me again.//
Is that why you left me, Robert? Someone gave you negative feedback for loving someone so stupid? Good grief, Robert, I sincerely hope not.
Technically speaking, Robert, you're not dead yet. But you might as well be. You look dead. Actually, come to think of it, right now Oliver looks more dead then you do, and he's 110% alive. I know that because he's sitting on the opposite side of your bed right now. I have no clue as to how I look right now, but judging by how Oliver looks, at the very least, I probably look as ashen and as grim-faced as he does. I think people who are dead are ashen-faced, but I'm not sure. I've never seen a dead person before, but Robert, IF you die - I refuse to say when - I probably will have. And I know for a fact that it will be the worst memory I ever have.
But if you survive. . . IF you survive, and I'll admit, your prospects for that aren't looking too good right now. . . well then, my beloved, we'll just have to have a little talk, now, won't we? [We should probably get together on Gustav's day off-we'll want our privacy. And no, I don't mean it like THAT.]
But there's still that one pressing factor. . . what if. . . you don't. . . make it?
//If I never feel you in my arms again,
if I never feel your tender kiss again,
if I never hear "I love you" now and then,
will I never make love to you once again?
Please understand, if love ends,
then I promise you, I promise you that,
that I shall never breathe again.
Breathe again, breathe again,
that I shall never breathe again.//
Well then, I'd join you, to whatever afterlife awaited us.
Suddenly, the machines hooked up to you start beeping like crazy. The doctors and nurses start rushing in, and I begin marveling as to how such a tiny room can hold so many people. Gradually, they begin to leave, one by one. I'm preoccupied, however, with watching you at the moment. At last, there is only one doctor in the room. He tells us how you're doing. However, I'm not really paying attention to him UNTIL I realize he's telling us how you're doing, and by then, he's finished and has left the room. Oliver, obviously sensing my state of clueless-ness, motions for me to lean over. I oblige, and he whispers something in my ear.
What the. . . no way. . . And to think we doubted you all this time, Robert. I'm sure I have the biggest grin on my face right now, but I don't care. Robbie buddy, you came through for us, you really did. Sorry I ever doubted you for a moment, Rob. I remember how you used to give me cr*p every time I called you either Rob, Robbie, Bert, Bertie, Bob, or Bobby. Hey, they're all abbreviations for Robert, right? I'm trying to save time over here!!!
Looks like I'll be hearing you give me cr*p for calling you that again, after all. Looks like I'll be able to call you all that stuff. You have no clue as to what happened, now, do you? Well, I'll give you a clue.
Life just got a whole lot better.
* * * * * And that's another chappie done!!! Well, how do you think Robert's doing? Tell me in your review!!! Sorry if I seem a lil' demanding with the reviews, but I'm a newbie here, so I need some encouragement. When I'm encouraged to write, I'm inspired to write and I wind up writing more!!! So if you like this story, review it, and I'll post another chapter up, where you can find out just what's going on with Rob!!!
Song: Breathe Again by Toni Braxton
* * * * *Johnny's POV* * * * *
Damn you, Robert, how could you do this to yourself? After everything we've done together, you go ahead and kill yourself? Or at least try to? I thought you were stronger then that! I had so much faith in you. . . and you let me down. . .
I never told you that, of course. But I think you knew. You always looked so hurt whenever you looked at me. Was it that obvious? I'm known for kinda wearing my heart on my sleeve-everyone is always able to tell just what I'm feeling, no matter how angry I seem.
Anger. So far, I've used anger to cover up everything. But I'm so easy to see right through.Damnit Robert, why did you go and do it?! Didn't you realize how much we all cared about you?!!! How much I cared about you?!!! Answer me, you slit-wrist corpse!!!
//If I never feel you in my arms again, If I never feel your tender kiss again, If I never hear "I love you" now and then, Will I never make love to you once again? Please understand, if love ends, Then I promise you, I promise you that, That I shall never breathe again. Breathe again, breathe again, That I shall never breathe again.//
Okay, okay. You're not really a corpse. At least, not yet. But I'll admit it-I have very little faith of ever seeing you alive again. I'm glad I walked in when I did - you must've just slit your wrists.
I'd made up my mind. I was going to tell you how I felt about you. I decided I couldn't stand one more hurt glance my way. Oliver HAD told me that you loved me. I was waaay too nervous to make the first move-what if you didn't love me anymore? Oliver never lies, and he told me that you yourself told him how much you cared for me. But people's opinions do change. I'd shoved that all aside, however. I knew I wouldn't be able to last much longer in "what if" land. So I walked down to your private suite in the castle. I didn't even bother to knock - I just barged right in. And I saw you. . . lying there. . . on blood soaked sheets. There was so much blood, I thought it was a major wound, like someone had stabbed your heart to shreds or something. But that wasn't the case. When I realized the only wounds on you were the slits in your wrists. . . and that there was blood on your attack ring, which was separate from the rest of your blade. . . I swear I just about died. Oliver says I went hysterical. Wouldn't surprise me if I did. I have no memory as to what I did after I found you like that. Luckily, you were still alive. I was relieved, at first - I though I'd lost you, and that I'd never see you again. But after sitting by your bedside for one week, I'm beginning to give up hope. I think I can take solace in the fact that you're happy now. You must be - you committed suicide. Only people who are really depressed do that.
//And I can't stop thinking about,
about the way things used to be,
and I can't stop thinking about,
about the love that you made to me.
And I can't get you out of my head;
how in the world will I begin
to let you walk right out of my life
and throw my heart away?
And I can't stop caring about,
about the apple of my eye,
and I can't stop doing without,
without the center of my life.
And I can't get you out of my head,
and I know I can't pretend
that I won't die if you decide
you won't see me again. //
I just can't stop thinking about. . . well, about you. About what good friends we used to be - we were always together. About what a good couple we might've been. About your tall, lean body and chiseled face. About your keen red eyes and shiny (highly gelled) lavender hair. Good grief, how much hair gel did you use anyway? About all your qualities, good and bad, physical and mental. There's so many "what if"s. . .
// If I never feel you in my arms again,
if I never feel your tender kiss again,
if I never hear "I love you" now and then,
will I never make love to you once again?
Please understand, if love ends,
then I promise you, I promise you that,
that I shall never breathe again.
Breathe again, breathe again,
that I shall never breathe again.//
That does it. Who the h*** do I think I'm fooling? Gods, Robert, I want you to be alive, I honestly want you to, but you've been in a damn coma for what? A week? Seems like longer. How on earth can I be so calm? I'm so. . . well. . . I don't know how to put it. I'm thinking about so much stuff, and all at once. Things like "why did you do this to me, Robert?" and "what if I told him sooner" to "Tyson, the day I get my f***ing hands on you, you're gonna be deader (if that's even a word) then the food you eat AFTER you've eaten it."
Yeah, yeah, I know. It's surprising that someone as supposedly stupid as I am can be plagued by so many thoughts at once. Goddamnit, how come everyone thinks I'm stupid? Robert, my love, is that what you thought of me, too?
// And I can't stop thinking about,
about the way my life would be.
No, I can't stop thinking about,
how could you love me then leave?
And I can't get you out of my mind,
God knows how hard I've tried,
and if you walk right out my life,
God knows I'm sure to die.
And I can't stop doing without,
without the rhythm of my heart.
No, I can't stop doing without,
for I will surely fall apart.
And I can't get you out of my mind,
and I know I can't deny,
and I would die if you decide
you won't see me again.//
Is that why you left me, Robert? Someone gave you negative feedback for loving someone so stupid? Good grief, Robert, I sincerely hope not.
Technically speaking, Robert, you're not dead yet. But you might as well be. You look dead. Actually, come to think of it, right now Oliver looks more dead then you do, and he's 110% alive. I know that because he's sitting on the opposite side of your bed right now. I have no clue as to how I look right now, but judging by how Oliver looks, at the very least, I probably look as ashen and as grim-faced as he does. I think people who are dead are ashen-faced, but I'm not sure. I've never seen a dead person before, but Robert, IF you die - I refuse to say when - I probably will have. And I know for a fact that it will be the worst memory I ever have.
But if you survive. . . IF you survive, and I'll admit, your prospects for that aren't looking too good right now. . . well then, my beloved, we'll just have to have a little talk, now, won't we? [We should probably get together on Gustav's day off-we'll want our privacy. And no, I don't mean it like THAT.]
But there's still that one pressing factor. . . what if. . . you don't. . . make it?
//If I never feel you in my arms again,
if I never feel your tender kiss again,
if I never hear "I love you" now and then,
will I never make love to you once again?
Please understand, if love ends,
then I promise you, I promise you that,
that I shall never breathe again.
Breathe again, breathe again,
that I shall never breathe again.//
Well then, I'd join you, to whatever afterlife awaited us.
Suddenly, the machines hooked up to you start beeping like crazy. The doctors and nurses start rushing in, and I begin marveling as to how such a tiny room can hold so many people. Gradually, they begin to leave, one by one. I'm preoccupied, however, with watching you at the moment. At last, there is only one doctor in the room. He tells us how you're doing. However, I'm not really paying attention to him UNTIL I realize he's telling us how you're doing, and by then, he's finished and has left the room. Oliver, obviously sensing my state of clueless-ness, motions for me to lean over. I oblige, and he whispers something in my ear.
What the. . . no way. . . And to think we doubted you all this time, Robert. I'm sure I have the biggest grin on my face right now, but I don't care. Robbie buddy, you came through for us, you really did. Sorry I ever doubted you for a moment, Rob. I remember how you used to give me cr*p every time I called you either Rob, Robbie, Bert, Bertie, Bob, or Bobby. Hey, they're all abbreviations for Robert, right? I'm trying to save time over here!!!
Looks like I'll be hearing you give me cr*p for calling you that again, after all. Looks like I'll be able to call you all that stuff. You have no clue as to what happened, now, do you? Well, I'll give you a clue.
Life just got a whole lot better.
* * * * * And that's another chappie done!!! Well, how do you think Robert's doing? Tell me in your review!!! Sorry if I seem a lil' demanding with the reviews, but I'm a newbie here, so I need some encouragement. When I'm encouraged to write, I'm inspired to write and I wind up writing more!!! So if you like this story, review it, and I'll post another chapter up, where you can find out just what's going on with Rob!!!