Uwu Baka falsettos

Kevin

tw; death, murder, suicidal thoughts

Whizzer stared at the busy road.

"Maybe I should just kill myself. It's not like it'll affect anyone, the only person who let me stay with her just kicked me out." He laughed at himself and rolled his eyes, shrugging off the idea.

The words repeated in his mind over and over and over like a mantra. They wouldn't fucking stop, it was like some goddamn assface was screaming in his head and the little voice never stopped.

I can't feel a thing anymore.

Whatever.

He continued to walk, his hands in his pockets. Whizzer found a bench to sit on, before grabbing his phone.

An old friend had texted him asking if he 'wanted to come to a party tonight'.

What else could Whizzer do? He didn't have a house to go back to, so...

Why not?

He replied to the text saying 'Sure. What's your address?"

The woman replied with her address, and then Whizzer was on his way.

Partying in Park Slope. Yaaaay, I guess...

When he finally ended up there, he was greeted by a random man and a slap to the ass. Whizzer groaned . "Nope, not gonna happen."  He flipped off the dude before he walked away.

He stopped in his tracks and spun around. The man by the door was wearing a hoodie from the Fulton Flea. As was half of the other d-bags surrounding him.

Whizzer turned back around and walked into the kitchen. Alcohol, good. He took a red solo cup and filled it almost to the brim, taking a sip from it before picking it up. He didn't want to spill it on his jacket.

A blonde girl in her twenties ran over to Whizzer. "Hey, are you gay?"

Whizzer sighed. Who just goes up to someone and asks that??

"Yeah."

"Good, follow me."

He did so without question. He didn't really care about what was going to happen. If it was something that would affect him for life he could just kill himself. No big deal.

The blonde lead Whizzer to another man. Curly hair, short-ish. Looked gay.

Was gay.

Whizzer found that out quickly, because after the girl left, the other man asked Whizzer a very simple question.

"Wanna make out?"

Whizzer smiled. He didn't know he could smile anymore. He nodded and walked over to the other, who quickly got to it.

You can assume what happened next.

He made a deal with the man, who he later found out was named Marvin, that Whizzer could live with Marvin as long as he would cook, clean, and fuck.

Easy for Whizzer.

He went home with Marvin that night, and in the morning, he woke up and went for a walk.

He was trying to get inspired. Maybe feel something, for once. He saw one of his old neighbors who was seemingly moving into Marvin's neighborhood. They talked.

'What's goin' on? Oh, that's so crazy, wow.'

It made him tired.

There was jackshit to do in Brooklyn. Absolutely. Jack. Shit. Everything had either already been done or was forbidden.

An hour later, he was making dinner and rambling on and on to Marvin.

"You know, I think I need a change. Maybe I need to feel some heaven, or something."

"I can help you with that after dinner." Marvin joked. Whizzer let out a 'heh'. He found it funny, sure, but he was incapable of laughing.

"Whatever you say, Marv."

There's no fire in the flame. Everybody looks the same to Whizzer. Except Marvin. Marvin is special.

Ten minutes later, they were sitting across from each other, talking.

"Marvin, I don't care where you were on 9/11. You didn't even live in New York at the time, so, it wasn't really, like, a thing for you. Okay?"

That earned an eye roll from Marvin.

Another hour passed. They fucked. Two more hours passed, and Whizzer was on another walk.

His eyes landed on a woman on Atlantic. Whizzer casually walked towards her before grabbing her hair. The woman turned frantic as he dragged her behind a building, then wrapped his hands around her neck with all the passion he could rally.

He realized they were by that club that's owned by Beck.

Whizzer dumped her body in the alley nearby, taking her ID and phone out of her pocket. Her name was Trina Weisenbachfeld. She had a husband and a child.

He began to sweat a bit, but overall was still numb. Whizzer shrugged off the fact he'd just murdered a woman with a family as he took his first step that would lead him away from the crime. The sounds of the cars along the busy road next to him were soothing.

Soothing enough for someone who couldn't feel a fucking thing anymore. Someone who felt that everything had been done before, and everything was shitty, and living was a terrible chore, and there was nothing new to do in Brooklyn.

Nothing new to do in New York, or America, or the universe.

Nothing new to do in Brooklyn.

He closed his eyes as he crossed the street, taking a deep breath, not paying any attention to all of the oncoming traffic.

Everything went dark.

Nothing new to do in Brooklyn anymore but get hit by a car and die.