Work Text:
I’m sitting right here in the bathroom that used to be ours. The bathroom that is in the apartment that used to be shared.
I’m taking in uneven breaths. I’m trying to stay calm. I know myself that I can’t do it. I’m starting to tremble and my eyes are burning with tears but nothing falls out. My vision is blurry and my mouth feels dry. I’m pushing my legs up to my chest. I hug them like it would help me. It won’t. Nothing will.
I feel a lump in my throat. It’s made out of words I never got to say, laughs I never got to share and tears that no one wiped away.
The clock is ticking. Second by second, minute by minute I become more aware that I am alone. I sit in almost complete silence, the only sound I can hear being my own quiet sobs.
I run my fingers through my already messed up hair and I exhale loudly. I’m trying to think. I’m trying to sort things out but I’m not able to function. It’s like I‘m in life support and suddenly someone pulled the wires off, simply just plugged me out of my only hope in life.
I hear voices. Someone is talking to me. But no, I’m alone at home.
I try to wipe my eyes but when I do that, new tears come streaming down. The voices are talking to me inside my head. I can now hear clearly what they’re saying. How I’m a failure and how I couldn’t save him. Who could have? He was a victim of his own mind.
NO! Stop! It was my fault. I didn’t know…
I fall into a peaceful sleep consisting of the best memories we shared together, all the places we went to and all the times I got to look at his beautiful eyes.
He was beautiful. I remember that he was beautiful. I can’t picture him completely anymore. I don’t remember what his hands looked like or how he walked next to me. I can’t remember the way he smiled or the way his hugs made me sparkle inside. It’s like he is only a trailing memory. I don’t want him to be that.
I try harder picturing us sitting next to each other and having a laugh. I dream about the walks in the nearby park and all the coffee places we went to together. I’m dreaming about us.
I wake up hours later still on the cold tile floor surrounded in a puddle of tears. I try to sit but my arms are weak and I can’t lift myself back up. I smash back into the ground, my cheek pressing against the floor of the bathroom. I’m trying to stop crying but I can’t.
My stomach is turned into knots and I feel like there are way too many tears to cry. I’m not able to cry all of it out. I feel sick. I haven’t eaten anything today or yesterday either but I can still feel all of the acids in my stomach coming up fast. I try to move to the toilet as quickly as possible. When I reach it I barely can open the lid before I throw up everything I still have inside me. I’ve not vomited like this in ages and it hurts my throat. I’m gasping for air in the middle and then I’m back to leaning over the toilet again. I start to cough vigorously and I fall back on the ground. I feel terrible in every way possible.
After I have calmed down from the rapid vomiting I want to try to get up again. I slowly start to stand and I almost fall again before I can grab the towel holder. I hold on to it for dear life and I start to push myself forward and it works.
I walk slowly all the way to his room’s door until I collapse to the floor again. The last thing I see is a room that still has all of his stuff in it. A room that once was filled with great ideas and creativity just like he was. I feel like blacking out and I do after a few seconds. Things start to blur together and after that it’s all black. Maybe someone will wake me up and maybe that someone is him. Maybe I can see him again.
But when I open my eyes I am alone again. Alone in this stupid hallway. When I realise this I start pulling my hair and I want to scream. When I try to let out a loud scream all that escapes from my throat is a raspy and a breathy squeak. I try to yell again but with the same result.
I roll on my side and I look at his room. He could be making a video now. He could be doing a live show. He might be sharing his amazing, bright ideas with me. He might be holding me in his arms. Maybe he could be doing all that if he was here. But he is not and it’s stupid to wish it to happen. He is not coming back. I won’t be seeing him anymore. He is gone.
A tear escapes from my left eye and as it happens I have decided to see him again. I won’t be crushed by this. I will make my own choice. And I am choosing to be with him. It hits me like a strong wave hits the strand. I am going to see the love of my life again. I am. Going. To. See. Him. And with that I get up even though everywhere in my body hurts. I close the door to his room. I am not crying anymore. Why should I?
I walk to the bathroom. I know what I am doing. I know. I turn on the lights and for a moment I am shocked with what I’m seeing in the mirror. It’s a boy with dark hair and a fringe but the once beautiful hair is now messed up and disgusting. My pale skin contrasts with my hair. My arms look like they don’t have any muscle in them. I look so weak standing here in front of the mirror. I look so vulnerable.
I am weak. I am vulnerable. I am every horrible thing I can think of without him. I am nothing actually. I am a shell. Just a stupid shell. Nothing inside. All gone.
I don’t know if I can actually see him. But I want to try at least. So I pick the way he used because I know it will work. It worked for him.
I see a light orange pill container when I open the cupboard above the mirror. It says his name on it. It’s empty like I thought it would be. I throw the empty container on the ground and I find another one in the back of the shelf. I take it in my hand and I realise it hasn’t been opened. So I open it and I pour a handful of the white, boring pills in my hand. I look at them for a while like I am searching for something.
The pills are like me in a way. Boring, useless and hated. I know he didn’t take his medication. I place the pills in my mouth and I swallow them down at one go. I never really liked swallowing pills but I’m taking these ones down for him.
I start filling the tub with warm water. I jump in even though it isn’t full yet. I don’t care. I’m letting the water fall on my clothes and I won’t stop it. I’m not going to stop the water running. Eventually it fills the tub and streams down on the floor and after that under the closed bathroom door. Eventually.
I have never loved a person as much as I loved him. He knew I loved him and I knew he loved me back.
He was perfect in a way I could have never been. He was always embraced the way I wasn’t and he respected his career more than I did. He did everything better than I. He smiled more than I did even though half of those gorgeous smiles weren’t real. He wasn’t a faker. He just wasn’t feeling happy enough to smile.
He always talked to me about the things he is going through and I couldn’t really understand him. Not until now. I understand him perfectly. I understand how bad he was actually doing. Nothing really made him happy. He said that the only reason he kept trying to smile was me. I didn’t believe him. But he wasn’t really a liar. He never lied.
When we were just kids, around the age of 18, I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him. He made me feel right in all the ways possible. He made me feel complete. He was everything I didn’t have earlier in my life.
When I realised that I loved him I knew I was never going to be broken again. And that was what happened until now when he is gone. I am broken because he is gone. And soon I will be too.
We will always be together. With that I felt the pills taking me down. I felt my breathing getting harder and I realised I was actually going. No turning back. I didn’t even want to turn back. I wanted to see him.
My stomach was twisting and turning, a terrible pain stinging me in the gut and so with the last inhales and exhales that I managed to do, I shattered one last tear and whispered:
“See you soon."