What Fresh Hell Is This? 𓅓 (Joshler One-Shots)

When Did We Fall Apart?

This isn't a joshler one shot (its actually banana fish) but this is my book that i treat like a diary and you cant stop me from posting.

I got overwhelmed at work (whats new) and wrote based on emotion and it feels really miserable to let the writing and the emotions fester so im sharing them with the void so i can feel less alone with it.

Raw and unedited gibberish. Youre welcome babes.

X

'You sound so familiar - where do I know your voice from?' Ash wondered, watching this pretty brown-haired boy speak to him from across a field of poppies that seemed to sweep them away, like violent tides of crimson in the wind. 'He's trying to tell me something - something important.' Ash tried to walk towards him, but it's like the field of flowers fought to pull them further apart with every step he took forward.

The brown-haired boy smiled at him in the distance, a smile so warm and tender it made Ash stop in his tracks. He didn't need to hear what was said, that smile gave him the assurance that whatever the boy had to say, it couldn't possibly be anything but good news. The sound of his voice was soft like honey in the back of your throat when you're feeling sick. Like the feeling of being asleep in the back of your parents' car after a long road trip, aware in your heart that you are headed home, that you are safe.

"I can't hear you!" Ash screamed at the top of his lungs as the boy spoke again, then turned to leave. Ash stumbled uphill, trying to carry his feet forward to close the space between them.

The wind grew more violent, the tides turning into a tsunami that seemed to divide the two. Suddenly, the brown-haired boy sank into the storm of flowers, and Ash felt his fight or flight kick in. He tried to carry his legs forward, but they were like blocks of lead that pulled him down into the abyss, sinking slowly as he fought to stay afloat the ocean of poppies. He kicked and screamed in defiance, screaming for the dark-haired boy whose name he did not know to come back, screaming to feel home again as the ground swallowed him whole.

x

Ash rose slowly from the bed, feeling his back peel away from the bedsheets that perspiration had it clung to. Tears flowed down his cheeks. There were no choked sobs, no fighting or fear or pain, only an emptiness that grew wider as his eyes poured out everything until he was numb.

He shifted his legs off the bed and heard bottles fall on the ground as his feet knocked them over in the dark. He tilted his face to the side as a voice groaned beneath the bedsheets between snores his brain had been ignoring. Light slipped through the slightly ajar bathroom door just past the bed, and Ash stood and stumbled towards it.

Wincing at the light as he stepped in, his pupils slowly took in the sights around him - towels discarded on the floor, boxers flung over the toilet seat, a condom discarded into the waste basket; used. He stepped up to the mirror, wiping a mess of golden locks off his sticky forehead. his neck was painted partly red and purple where fingertips had been locked and lips had sucked him dry of feeling, a vampire that drained him of any emotion left in him.

It came back to him in bits and pieces; a bar, a tall and brow-beating man twice his age, a beer then two, then six, then a hand down his pants in the dimly lit toilet stall, and finally a cab back to the strangers bedroom. the night started to come back up through his throat when he remembered being on his knees with a hand forcefully tugging at his hair earlier that night, mouth forcefully intruded, and he fell to the floor beside the toilet and spewed out chunks of his regrets into the bowl.

For a moment as he knelt hunched over the toilet, he felt himself back in that field of poppies from his dream, remembering how serene and peaceful everything felt. Everything was silent. The stranger in the flowers suddenly became clear as the midday sun, and he wished he could forget ever seeing his face now.