toska - sapnotfound

you

i initially forgot to put this in the description of the book, but from here on there will be a tw for suicidal thoughts. just thought i'd put this here for those of you who started reading before i added it, and for those who missed it. stay safe guys <3

"george.."

he falls on his knees in front of the granite rock.

"i-i felt you, oh my god, i-"

his hands cover his mouth as tears threaten to spill.

"i was sitting in the kitchen, just eating a sandwich, a-and i felt something touch me.. i swear i did!"

he rambles desperately, not even caring for the tulips that have dropped to the ground.

"it was like- it was like a gust of wind, like it almost didn't exist, but it brushed against my back like you used to do, exactly like you used to..."

"i-i felt your hand, i know i did!"

his chest aches, not only because he ran as fast as he could to the cemetery grounds after the event, but also because his heart is weeping. it's shattering all over again, screaming in agony. pleading for its other half to come back. come back and calm it, love it until the end of times.

"i know i did..."

the pink flowers lay in the grass, wrapped up in plastic. they're vibrant and cheerful, the only source of light in the crippling darkness that plagues nick. flowers are his only comfort now. they're something for him to take care of, something that seals his heart and brings peace for at least a little while.

his house was full of plants when george lived, but it's even more crowded now.

he looks up at the inscriptions on the gravestone, those letters that he's gotten so used to. his eyes are puffy and red, his cheeks wet.

"maybe i'm just going fucking insane," he mutters, "maybe it was just some mindfuck."

"it could've been something i imagined, but.. i-i hope it was you."

the leaves on the trees above rustle in the wind, one falls and lands near the resting place. it's a sunny day, not too warm but not too cold either. nick decided to wear a plain hoodie, orange instead of the usual grey or brown. not that he left much time for choosing in the rush he was in.

the birds tweet and chirp, keeping him company where he sits, alone. he prefers to be alone nowadays, but nature isn't a bother. it chains him down to earth, reminds him that he's alive and breathing, that he exists. he's afraid he'd forget if it wasn't for the background noise; the wind, the trees, the animals. even the traffic sounds from the nearby roads help him.

it's the thought of having to be around other humans that scares him. he was never an outgoing individual, but after losing george things have snowballed out of control. it's like he doesn't trust them anymore, doesn't trust that they won't leave him too. whether it is by cutting ties, or by dying.

kind of hypocritical, since he's the one shutting everyone out of his life, making them leave. he hates himself for it. it's a vicious circle with no end.

"anyways, uhh.. h-how've you been?"

he dries his tears, trying his best to cheer up.

"uhm, no news from me, i guess."

"i've been to work, gone home.. laid in bed. and that's about it."

"it's hard to find distractions."

"i've tried some things, but.."

"i don't know, it's hard to stay on track and actually pick up hobbies."

"i'm not that talented anyway."

he runs a hand through his tangled hair, sighing. he really needs to get a haircut soon.

"my therapist suggested music, or maybe cooking..."

"but i suck at singing and cooking reminds me too much of you."

"it feels like nothing will help me."

"she keeps saying that it'll get better, but i don't know how much longer i can handle.. all of this,"

"how much longer i can hold on."

biting his lip anxiously, he confesses to his lover what he could never tell another person.

"sometimes i..."

"want to do stupid things. drastic things. i get urges. usually i can fend them off but-"

"but i'm afraid that i'll lose control one day."

his breathing becomes labored, hands trembling in fear. fear of himself.

"there's just- just not much to live for anymore."

"i get out of bed in the morning every day, but for what?"

"nothing ever happens. nothing changes."

"i live in a fucking bubble."

"i wish i could still feel."

he hits himself to stop the pain. to snap out of it.

"it's so pathetic, isn't it? it's like you were the only thing i had in life."

"i'm such a loser."

but deep inside, nick feels a safety. george is his safety net. he could never hurt himself, because that's not what george would want. it would break his fragile little angel heart.

george would want him to stay strong, power through the tough times. and even with his own fading hope, he can yearn for an end to the anguish, the grieving. long for it with the help of his lover.

only time will tell if that yearning is for nothing.

"i should plant these," he mumbles, absentmindedly.

he digs a small hole in the dirt with his trowel, making sure that the pretty pink tulips won't fall over. they join the collection with their pastel shade, however not standing out much amidst the cluster of colorful flowers. reds, blues, purples, yellows.

george couldn't see many colors, but he still loved them so.

as nick gathers the plastic from the flower wrapping, getting ready to say his goodbyes and leave, he feels something sweep across his back.

like the lightest, softest touch of a hand, the sensation travels from his right shoulder down to his left hip. like a subtle breeze, a gentle graze. he shivers, losing his breath. goosebumps appear along his arms.

"baby?"

he whispers it with a breaking voice.

and just as fast as it came, it disappears.

"baby.."