- 𝐃𝐢𝐞 𝐀𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞 // 𝐃𝐧𝐟 -

fourteen

𝐓𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫/𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬
- 𝙼𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝙻𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚞𝚊𝚐𝚎
- 𝙳𝚎𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗𝚓𝚞𝚛𝚢
(A bit of fluff! :D)

𝐃𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦'𝐬 𝐏𝐎𝐕

This is it.

This is the last day in the house that George and I called home. It doesn't feel like home anymore when it comes to its last moments of living in it. That's how it's like for me, I guess. Maybe its just an act for me to adapt faster.

I stand in the middle of the living room, almost completely clueless. There's nothing much else to do as far as I knew. George was at any and every window staring outside, probably thinking of where to go. Where to run. We had already stuffed a bag with stuff we needed, waiting on the table as soon as we were ready.

The hours had passed by, laced with intimacy as we shared our last moments living like actual people. It's not every day that the world threatens to collapse underneath you, and it's not every day where every little part of it existing around you begin to combust.

Dust particles fly accompanied by the sunlight's dance, and I look at him again. How his dark browns turn into warm honey, the way of perfection that he simply just so effortlessly has that he can outshine even the intricacy of a marble statue. To be with such grace is almost overwhelming with how much love takes up every pint of blood my heart will ever manage to circulate.

This hell, this inescapable, crumbling wasteland will be the death of many. But he will be the death of me.

"You're staring." George says, smirking, making me snap out of it.

"Sorry, I-"

My face starts to burn up, but he cuts me off.

"No, no!" He exclaims.

"I like it."

A small smile tugs at the corners of his lips.

"Now, who's the one being full of themselves, huh?" I chuckle, trying to keep myself from bursting into laughter.

"You're such a big idiot." He replies, going in for another hug.

Being so connected to someone meant you'd never leave, right?

Then, why was the earth ending just as the last pairs of golden strings tied? To have been so incredibly lucky to find someone that you're finally comfortable to spend the rest of your life with, but the world takes all the time away?

I feel like that is one of the most painful things I'm inevitably going to endure.

I'm going to die.

But I won't die alone.

As the clock's hands taunt with its countdown to midnight, we talk about what to do. The sun will fall into the horizon's arms thus making the heat more tolerant.

"I don't know what to do when we're out." George sighs dejectedly, slightly anxious by the looks of it.

The chances of surviving without the luxury of a house with necessities were slim. Anyone would know that, though. Those who dragged themselves across the concrete without places to stay were probably gone by now.

"George, as long as we're not apart we are going to be okay."

I pull him into another fulfilling hug, reassuring him that we were going to come up with something.

He looks up at me and solemnly smiles, thriving in the comfort of my embrace. My head starts to throb at the exhaustion and how the heat was slowly eating away at my energy alongside it all. I signal to him that it's time to get some rest, because leaving first thing in the morning was a priority.

Oh, how easily procrastination can chip off what was meant to be a moment worth feeling for. But that should have been a lesson long learned by now, that, in a time like this, there is barely any time left for sentiment.

A few minutes have passed, and George is fast asleep. But my head won't stop throbbing. I can't get it to stop. Squeezing my eyes shut as tightly as I could was nothing more than a failed attempt to ease the noise, the ongoing cacophony of static.

I sit up, drenched in sweat, having met an impasse. Sluggishly, I try to drag myself to the kitchen sink, reaching out for the cold tap. The coolness runs down my throat as I drink from the small glass, barely noticeable on the counter by the glint of moonlight.

But it's just too much.

(Stay awake.)

I shouldn't.

(You need to go back.)

My head hurts.

(The pain should go soon.)

It fucking hurts.

Yet again, I find myself on the precipice of consciousness. The empty glass of water starts to blur.

(This can't be happening now.)

I feel dizzy.

The glass shatters on the ground, following a loud thud. I feel the stinging on my forehead, I feel the broken shards pierced into my skin. Not only that,

Blood.

Blood, blood and more blood.

Blood flowing. Blood trickling, everywhere.

(Scream for help.)

It hurts.

(Get George.)

I

Can't

Move.