*trigger warning*
The sad boy couldn't handle it anymore. The constant memories that circled him.
The way his cheeks slowly went pale, the grip that brought the two together. The grip which had loosened to just a limp hold. The way the emotion went blank behind his eyes. How he found himself thinking about this over and over again when it's been two years. The boy would be lying if he said doesn't know how he found himself standing in front of the mirror, looking at the horrible shadows that brim his dark, forest eyes. Faded brown hair matted against his sweaty forehead. His stomach is screwed with knots and horrible guilty. His insides twisting by the second. His throat felt like hands were wrapped around it causing for no air to come through. He couldn't fucking breathe. He felt panic arise way too quickly.
His clouded mind is once again slipping away but so are his trembling hands when he came back up from under the sink. His fingers pushing past all of the outdated medication and bathroom essentials.
An old blade. A couple of them.
"I know i told you that i would always look after you and i wasn't kidding. I didn't have the strength this time.."
He felt his voice pathetically quiver once the images of his lost person in his arms flash, making his head pound loudly and the tears take over his vision.
His best friend.
The only person who gave Michael the chance to show him what he can do as a person. Luke gave Michael the comfort he wanted, the comfort he needed. Michael's cold hands snaked a sleeve up, gently gliding an index finger above the old scaring.
He shook his head.
"I let so much shit pass over my head to ignore all of the signs you gave.. how could i be so blind."
The cold blade appears so beautiful against his polished skin. It was difficult to concentrate without the fear of having needles stab into his back. He had the ability to eliminate them now.
He'll never forgive you.
