Happy Ending (MattxMello)

25. Sixty Years

Mello
I wake up and roll over, checking the clock next to our bed - 11:30am, 1/02/13.
"Good morning, Matt." I say to thin air. Suddenly, I find myself looking at the clock again. February 1st... There is something very familiar about that date, but my thoughts are slow. Then, it hits me like a ton of bricks. February 1st is Matt's birthday. Fresh tears slide down my sticky cheeks and I lay back down on the bed. Today, Matt would have been twenty years old.
"Happy birthday Matty..." I say to the empty room, my voice sounding broken and utterly defeated.

The reality of Matt's death forces itself into my consciousness once again, making me cry out with new pain and grief. Matt - my best friend, the love of my life - died when he was just nineteen. He seemed so much older than that. I forget sometimes that we were barely adults. Everything I was doing seemed so important, like my whole life depended on it... but the truth is that I'm just a kid, a kid who was allowed to play grownup for a while. My life had barely started, life doesn't end at twenty. How fucked up is that? If I had abandoned my plan, if Matt and I had stayed home that night and if we had lived normal lives... We probably would've lived at least another fifty years together, provided we lived to around the average age of death. Fifty fucking years. How many years did I spend with Matt? Well, we met when he was six and he died when he was nineteen. That's thirteen, but I have to take away the three that I spent with the mafia, so all together, I spent ten years with Matt. Ten out of the sixty we could have had.

I find myself laughing hysterically while tears flow continuously down my face.
"Sixty fucking years Matt! You hear that? We could have spent sixty fucking years together! My God... And what I wouldn't give for just one more day. But I can tell you now, even sixty years wouldn't have been enough. Forever isn't even long enough." My laughing has stopped completely, leaving me screaming and crying on the floor like the lunatic that I am. I pull myself up and punch the wall with all of the force I can muster. My arm drops at my side without consent and blood begins to drip onto the carpet. I don't know what to do with myself as I fall to my knees, screaming out of frustration and pain. So, I look to the sky and scream.
"TAKE ME! JUST KILL ME NOW! PLEASE?! Oh God, please?" And then I fall forward and puke up everything in me, retching and dry heaving until I'm too exhausted to hold myself up. I fall to the floor in the fetal position, covered in a mix of my own tears, blood and vomit. Now... now I have officially hit rock bottom. I am no longer a person, but an empty shell of what once was a person.

When I wake up, I want to puke again at the sight of what I have become but I don't. I pick myself up off of the floor and drag myself to the bathroom, sitting down fully clothed in the shower and letting cold water run over me. The tears have stopped because I'm probably severely dehydrated, but the crying doesn't. I sob into my knees until the cold becomes too much and switch off the water. I just want to die so bad. I strip and lay down on the bed, letting a complete numbness wash over me.

Someone knocks on the door about an hour later and after about ten minutes of knocking without a reply, the person just shouts through the door.
"Umm... I'm not really sure how to go about this, but I came over to check if everything was okay. I heard screaming coming from your apartment and I was just wondering if you needed help?" I don't want him to call the cops or anything so I get up, pulling on a random pair of boxers and a shirt and walk over to the door. I open it and lean on the doorframe, smiling sweetly at the probably thirty-something year old man standing in front of me.
"Hey, thanks for the concern but, as you can see, nobody's being murdered or anything. I probably do need help actually, but I don't really intend on getting any, so... Thanks for coming, see ya around. Or not. Actually, do me a favor?" He shifts nervously in his place but nods anyway.
"Y-yeah, sure. What is it?" I smile again.
"Well, if you don't see me in the next week or so, I've probably committed suicide and I'd really appreciate it if you could call the cops to pick up my body, kay? Thanks." I wink and shut the door in his shocked and horrified face. He knocks a couple more times but gives up eventually and I hear his footsteps becoming softer and softer until they disappear. He doesn't come back.