" Silence is the loudest scream. "
You don't have many friends, you're lucky if you have one.
Nobody wants to talk to you, you're bad company.
Try as you might, nothing prevails.
You laugh, you're no good.
But for some odd reason, you continue to assume like you should.
-----
Lovino tapped his desk, his fingertips just gently tapping the wood of the furniture. There was depth in his writing, and there was an ugly truth. It was the cold hard facts, ones he tried fighting but got him nowhere, like he knew.
He was alone.
Nobody was thinking about him.
He knew that.
A soft exhale escaping the brunet, the male simply looked outside the window. Watching the rain hit the window, the Italian just watched the rain fall. He knew somewhere right now, people were praising somebody else. Making them feel important. Loved.
Surrounded by friends and family, if they're luckier, maybe even a lover.
There was a sharp pain in Lovino's heart just at the thought, because he knew that's a happiness he will never know, nor will ever understand.
The brunet crumpled the paper he'd previously wrote on, tossing it to the wall as he let out a yell, a scream, almost. The pain that swelled in his heart spread through his body like a plague, and he was ready to toss the towel in. He has been ready for awhile now, though.
Staring painfully at the clock, he only looked. Staring at it as if it would go away, as if time would stop and acknowledge his suffering and give him some peace. That wouldn't happen, either.
Picking up his phone, he stared at the absence of texts, opening his social media sites only to see copious amounts of people with their friends. Exchanging inside jokes and enjoying life all together- even the bad times.
But Lovino had nobody to love with, or get through the hard times with.
Lovino was alone.
Lovino would always be alone.
Maybe he deserved it, maybe he didn't. Not that it mattered, not that it ever would. When the pills settle in, he knew it would take awhile for somebody to notice. Maybe not. He wouldn't be awake to see it, and that's what he was okay with.
He was okay with a lot of things. Things he probably shouldn't be okay with. But he had no say in a lot of things, because nobody even knew he was there half the time.
That was something he was okay with, too.
One thing he shouldn't be.
With little to no effort, he scribbled some other lazy act of a goodbye letter, to nobody in particular. Not to his mother, father, any of his two brothers, nor nobody who claimed they were friends. It was more for whoever cared.
Crawling over to his bed, the male grabbed a bottle full of pills, a bottle he was too familiar with as it was the same medicine he'd been prescribed for since he was a child.
With one instant swig and raise of his arm, the brunet downed every small capsule with seconds left to spare.
Rolling onto his bed, an instant pain swelling in his chest, the brunet could only cling tightly to the pillow he's held every night for the past sixteen years.
With one final blink, and one final breath, the Italian spoke only a few words to himself.
" Buon compleanno. "
Then just like that, the lights went dim, and everything got cold almost too fast. His light was dimming, and the clock was finally slowing down. Just for him.
From across the room on his wooden desk, his phone lit up- a small text reading,
" Feliz cumpleaños, Lovi! I was out finding the perfect gift for you all day, I lost track of time, I'm sorry! I know I'm two hours late but I will make it up when I see you! "
A text received a little too late.
A message that will never be read.
Not by Lovino.
