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now playing..
"Chlorine" -Twenty One Pilots
April 4th, 2012 1:19pm
The ruffling of leaves from the wind outside accompanied the strumming of the guitar in your hands.
Your fingers pressed against the strings to form a G chord—the muscle memory imprinted into your mind. The strumming pattern is as easy to you as breathing, the song simply second nature.
It's been two weeks since Brian left.
The first verse of the song came up, the lyrics leaving your lips in a soft tone.
"Another turning point, a fork stuck in the road. Time grabs you by the wrist, directs you where to go"
The metal cuff was still attached to your ankle, and it's beginning to hurt.
"So make the best of this test, and don't ask why. It's not a question, but a lesson learned in time."
Your fingers made their way to finger an Em chord as the next few lyrics came up, the sound of birds singing their songs mixing in with your playing.
At first you were worried because of your deteriorating food and water supply, but after some time, you simply gave up. Not much else you can do.
"It's something unpredictable. But in the end, it's right. I hope you had the time of your life."
You played out the next few chords, the familiar song very dear to you. Brian's guitar sat comfortably in your grasp, your fingers strumming the strings—leaning against the concrete wall.
"So take the photographs and still frames in your mind. Hang it on a shelf in good health and good time."
You didn't know what else to do other than to just play the guitar. Frankly, you didn't have anything else to do. It'll only make your slow death of either starvation or dehydration a little less painful by having some familiarity to rely on.
"Tattoos of memories, and dead skin on trial. For what it's worth, it was worth all the while."
The sun radiated into the near empty room, the concrete walls bland—other than the frequent crack or mystery stain and mold.
"It's something unpredictable. But in the end, it's right. I hope you had the time of your life." Your playing was interrupted suddenly by a figure stumbling into the room, causing you to jump.
"Brian?" You called out as his limp figure fell to the concrete floor. You scrambled to your knees, putting the guitar aside as you came to his aid—chain rattling as you quickly moved.
His hoodie was stained from the slash in his chest, your hands taking off the mask that covered his face before chucking it aside.
"Fuck, Brian, stay awake." You shook him.
Out cold.
You muttered a swear under your breath as you dragged his body into your lap, pulling the hoodie off of him.
You grab his satchel, taking out a medical kit in the side pocket before hurriedly taking his black shirt off.
"You motherfucker.." you muttered, cleaning up the wound to the best of your ability. Your mom worked as a nurse, so you knew the bare minimum of patching things like this up.
You tore off his gloves, feeling his wrist for a pulse whilst working on the wound itself.
You took a split second to appreciate the fact that he kept the bracelet on after all this time before getting back to work.
You weren't sure why you had started to, but a small hum to the tune of the song you were previously playing emitted from your lips, occasionally breaking out into a whisper-lullaby of lyrics.
"Stay with me, now." You took your time, but still tried to work fast but efficiently, your hands trembling slightly as you worked.
You noticed a scar on his neck.
Circle with an X through it.
The operator symbol.
It's like the middle ground between a burn and a knife scar, but with some weird twist to it.
Though you paid it no mind as you continued to work on the primary wound.
