Suicide ↠ Kellic

Vic

GUYS I SAW TWENTY ONE PILOTS AND I TOUCHED JOSH DUNS DRUMS AND ALSO HALSEY WAS THERE IN THE SAME ROOM AS ME! ALSO ON FRIDAY I AM SEEING SWS SO OML

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Vic

"You're a fucking fuck up," I growled at myself, glaring into the mirror. Not only have I made it worse for myself, but ive made it worse for kellin. He's hurting and its because of me. Angrily, I slammed my fist against the porcelain sink, bringing an awful burning sensation to my soon to be bruised fist.

"Look what I've caught here," a horribly familiar voice almost sung, "Victor Vincent Fuentes, have you done as I requested?"

Michael gave me a dark, questioning look, before answering the question himself.

"Of course you have," he grinned, "look what a mess you've gotten yourself into, almost breaking the poor sink, what has it ever done to you?"

Ignoring him, I glanced back up to the mirror, hands trembling and heavy breathing. My eyes were a dark shade of brown, almost black, and anger was laced deep in them. I was mad at myself for allowing myself to fall so hard for this one boy, I was angry at Michael for putting all this pressure on me, and I was mad at Kellin for being such a god damn beautiful piece of humanity.

I imagined Kellins perfect eyes, full of love and happiness, instead of anger and hurt, his luscious, dark locks of hair that fell gently on his shoulders. Why did he have to be so perfect?

As if Michael could read my mind, he said "You'll soon forget the colour of his eyes, and he'll forget yours."

"Why are you doing this," I managed to choke out.

"Because I want you," he mumbled.

"Yeah, well we don't always get what we want," I glowered.

"You might not," he let a sinister grin cross his face, "but I always do."

Unable to take anymore, I barged past him and stormed towards the music room, the place I go to when I need to forget everything.

I carefully picked up the acoustic guitar and strummed a few chords, making up a tune, humming along to it, wishing I had the skill of song writing.

"Slow conversations with a gun
mean more than I've ever said to anyone,"

I mumbled out a few words that could fit the chords, and strangely liking what could possibly be lyrics to a decent song.

The words that Michael had spoken to me came into mind,

"You'll soon forget the colour of his eyes,

And he'll forget yours,"

"That's pretty," a soft voice, one that I felt like I hadn't heard in a while interrupted me. A small blush heated my cheeks.

"Abby," I murmured, she took a seat in front of me, watching as my hand held the guitar.

"Play me something," she asked sending me a small smile.

The last time we'd seen each other was when she was telling me about her father.

"I wouldn't have anything to play," I stuttered, embarrassed to play in front of her.

"Anything, have you written anything yourself?" Abby asked, "I wouldn't judge you, even if it was bad."

Sighing, I strummed a few chords I had managed to put together earlier this week.

"It isn't a lot," I said.

After strumming a few more chords, I began humming, then broke out into lyrics I'd written.

"If I were you I'd put that away,

See your just wasted and

Thinking 'bout the past again,

Darling you'll be okay..."

I began to stop strumming the guitar, having that been the end of it, however Abby motioned me to keep going, so I looked at her confused.

"If you were me you'd do the same,

'Cause I can't take anymore,

I'll draw the shades and close the door,

Everything's not alright 'cause I would rather..." She began trailing off, her melodic voice coming to a halt. She would rather what?

"I'm sorry," she chuckled, "that was awful."

"Awful! Abby that was amazing. Far better than anything I've ever written, you'd be the perfect writing partner."

She hummed quietly in response.

The room fell into a comfortable silence.

"My father is abusive too," I spoke, she'd told me about her father, I should tell her of mine.

"Vic..."

"He hit me, and when I left to come here, he started on my younger brother," I frowned, looking at my palms, "does that make me a bad brother?"

"Of course not, it makes him a bad father, you need to do something about it, call the police, call for help, if there is one thing I regret not doing, it's getting the police involved."

"It isn't that easy, he grew up loving and kind, then my mother turned into a whore and started sleeping around, he began doing drugs and drinking every night, and it's hard for me and Mike to put his old self behind us and get used to this new man, what if he went back to being loving?"

"I know it is hard, but that 'what if' is a tiny chance, right now, he's abusive, he hurts you both and tht not okay, it needs to be sorted. If you don't act fast, your brother- Mike, is it? - will end up here too. You don't need that for him."

I sighed deeply, taking in the information Abby has given me.

"I should go," I said, putting the guitar back on its stand.

"Wait-" Abby stopped me, "I have something to tell you, I haven't told anyone, ever."

She took a deep breath.

"I'm gay."

She smiled at me, her eyes glistening with tears.

"It feels amazing to say that, get it off my chest."

"Tell me about it," I grinned, remembering how I came out.

Well actually, I was dragged out.

My old 'best friend' was a homophobe, so when I came out to her, she told everyone. That's when the name calling begun.

"Thank you, Vic," smiling sadly, she nodded before leaving the room.

For what?

And that was the last time I saw her.

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innit lads.