{Overgrow} A Collection of Short Shorties

"Please Don't Go"

WARNING!!! CONTAINS CHARACTER DEATH AND MENTIONS OF BLOOD!!!
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A very angst-filled story to start off the book
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Aaron x Bellamy
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Bellamy belongs to -dontmindme_
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Pretty much none of this is canon I just like to make myself sad
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Aaron intertwined his and Bellamy's fingers together as they walked, taking his boyfriend's free hand in his. Their dogs, Taz and Comet, strode ahead; the Doberman nearly stepped on the small corgi as he stopped to press his nose into the blades of grass, seeking out a scent that had caught his attention. Comet was getting old—Aaron thought to himself—the gray had spread past his muzzle and engulfed the white stripe up his nose, almost his entire face had changed color due to old age. He knew that Comet was an older dog when they started dating, and a few years had passed since then, and while he didn't know Comet's exact age, he could tell that he walked slower, he had a harder time getting up on the couch, and he no longer would bark from his spot on his dog bed if a stranger knocked on the door. And as he got older, so did Aaron.

Aaron no longer had such a baby face as he did in his late teens, while his cheeks had lost a bit of their roundness, he wasn't chiseled in any shape or form, but it made him look older than he previously did. He was still as lean and thin as ever, but his style in clothes had matured, and instead of those electric blues and vibrant yellows he adopted more bleak colors into his wardrobe. He more more mellow shades now, and his style has formed into what could actually be defined as a style in comparison to his mismatched outfits from when he first met Bellamy. He was still reckless, but not in the way he was before, he didn't seem to actively seek out danger anymore—though he did welcome it when it came by, a habit that even years of dating Bellamy couldn't fix.

All these changes yet...Bellamy remained unchanged. As the boogeyman, Aaron knew he didn't age, that thin smile was still as confident as ever, and his attitude was pretty much the same from when they first met all those moons ago. He still had that stubble that gave Aaron a beard rash if he didn't trim it in a timely enough matter, that slicked back hair that he styled when he got out of the shower every morning, and that alluring sense of style composed of almost all dark colors. He was just as captivating as ever.

Bellamy seemed to sense that Aaron was studying him, and his eyes slid over to meet his gaze. A small smile spread on his face and he cocked an eyebrow as if to ask him why he was staring.

"What do you think happens when you die?" Aaron blurted, clearly taking the boogeyman off guard by such a philosophical question. It was just like Aaron, though, to ask something so deep without thinking.

"I don't know." Bellamy answered after some thought. The answer seemed plain, so he added. "It's a big question, what do you think?"

"I don't know either. I've thought about it before, and I don't believe in a heaven or a hell, I guess it's...nothingness? Everything just ends there. Which seems kinda lonely and sad." Aaron said, there was a pause, after all, how could Bellamy really respond to that—he continued. "But, that's a long time away. I've got decades to think about it, who knows, maybe I'll make something up about the afterlife and make a new religion. It'll be really cool and I'll have tons of followers, and they'll all worship me." He jested, turning the heavy topic light again. He was never one to dwell on sad topics for too long.

"That sounds like a cult, you're going to make a cult." Bellamy responded, suppressing a laugh.

"No! Well, maybe."

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It was three years later. It was the start of a new year, four hours into it, to be exact. Soren had a party; he invited some faces that Bellamy had recognized and others that he didn't, and despite the fact that Aaron knew none of them, he had met so many new people that he talked himself sleepy. Well, that combined with the alcohol he drank made his eyelids flutter and Bellamy could tell that he was tired from the way that he had slipped his hand into his and knocked their shoulders together weakly, a sign that it was time to go.