Hang on to your IQ (On Hold)

I'm Lonely

Okay, I've got another story for ya. I'm got bored of some things I was writing since I never finish these things. So this is something I've been writing on a really old computer, and it might now go on here. And this is pretty short, but here it is....Hang On To Your IQ.

 A tear shed down the small man's pristine cheek.

He watched as the headlights moved out from his vision and fade off down the street to his home. The person inside, angry at what the man had done to him.

He cried from the windowsill, tears streaming down his face harder than he could ever imagine. He didn't realize how much he could cry. 

The twenty-three year old let the tears falling from his crystal blue eyes hit his hands, making them wet like it had been raining like the days before. There was nothing he could do about the feeling that fell over him but just cry. Crying in someone's arms was what he wanted right now.

He only got the crying.

~~~~~~~~

The other man, who had left in the car, arrived back at his small flat in North London.

Tears had filled his eyes, but he didn't seem to cry like the other man back at his flat. He was in utter dispair. 

He put his t-shirt on the couch and threw other things he had taken from the flat and set them down.

He really didn't like what happened earlier, he wished it had never happened. 

Why couldn't they be perfect?

What had he done so wrong?

"The hell Brian." he whispered to no one. "Why couldn't you just have me?" He started to cry softly.

 The tall twenty-something decided to try and drink this problem off his shoulders, for the time being anyways.

 He wandered into his small kitchen, grabbing the first drink he saw.

Vodka.

 He knew it wasn't his first choice for any drink in the world, but he had it since he had turned twenty-one on March thirty-first.

He took a swig and for no reason grabbed out his acoustic guitar. It seemed like a nice choice. 

He sat down, feeling more annoyance than ever at the person whom he just left.

The 6'4 man started playing whatever he could think of, not realizing he was hurting himself terribly with these things.

And he didn't realize how much more his partner was hurting himself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The young man whom the other had called 'Brian' collapsed onto the floor of his bedroom. His blue eyes shone in the darkness with every tear drop that fell from them.

He wanted something to make him feel better from all of the bullshit happening around him. He decided to run out into his living room and start to break the decorations in his home. Gidgets he had made or bought and anything he could find.

He wanted to not feel so horrible,  but everything around him had to come crashing down.

He was breaking things and being happy about it, not wanting anything else in the world besides a broken home.

Brian had an idea, so he stumbled into his fridge and found his very own stash of Vodka. Unlike the other, he thought Vodka was the best. He took it back into his room and drank the thing to the point of no return.

 He still cried terribly, but it was starting to lighten up. The Vodka reminded him that his sorrows could go away. 

He reached underneath his bed, grabbing the most horrid thing in his small world,  he also longed the pleasure from it.

He uncapped the small object and put it into his skin, releasing the substance into his veins. The drug didn't activate for a couple minutes, but he didn't mind.

He smiled at the syringe and set it back on the floor, just so he could get to it again if he wanted it. 

As soon as a minute passed, the man had felt the most pleasure he had ever felt, much better than the last time he had used the drug.

He gazed up at the ceiling, making his eyes shine brightly in the moonlight. 

Something was different than last time though, and he could feel something different than pleasure in his bare, naked body. 

The only thing was that Brian didn't realize it until he had been stumbling towards the bathroom and had passed out into a small heap on the floor.