V (boyxboy short stories)

Vicent and the gravedigger.

     'You're digging your own grave by getting with that boy.' they said. Vicent had never seen as much meaning to that saying as he saw now, while he slammed the shovel into the ground.

     The gun was standing not far from him on the grass, the moonlight reflecting on its black, shiny surface. Where he'd get a gun from, one might ask? From his 'boyfriend' dearest, William. The man had offered to him just after breaking things off, well aware that Vicent was suicidal seeing as he had been supposedly there to 'console' him all along. Thing is, he was consoling Vicent by assuring him it was good to think that way.

     Now, the young man didn't want to prove Will wrong in case he believed he didn't have the guts, and he didn't want to prove Will right in case he thought he did have the guts.

     He just wanted to end things. He saw himself as one of those people life just didn't have anything to offer to, and that's that.

     Straightening up, he slid his thumbnail under every other nail on his hand, scraping the mud from underneath them, the dirt having got there whenever he leaned to pull rocks and obstacles out of the way. As he took a while to catch his breath, he thought back on the many words his lover used to say.

     'Just look around, what do you see?' he asked, but before Vice got the chance to, his eyes were being covered. 'You don't even have to bother, you know too well there's nothing worth seeing.'

     Wiping  at his forehead, he once again pushed the shovel in the dirt and slammed his foot against it, picking the dirt and darting it on the side. The rectangular hole was about a few centimetres deep, so he had more digging and thinking to look forward to, each push of the shovel persuaded by memories.

     'The only reason they struggled to save you is because they get payed for it.' William spat, tearing at Vicent's bandage with an indifferent gaze, revealing the cuts freshly treated by doctors. 'The only reason your neighbour called them is so that she'd feel like a hero and get attention. They all just take advantage of your injured body, which, by the way, is your own. You may do as you please.' And with that, his lover handed him the razor.

     Vicent propped himself against the tool, looking around the graveyard. It seemed endless, with waving willow trees scattered here and there, the chill Autumn wind braiding their twigs gently. A family must have grieved a few hours before, because covered candles were lined on the edges of three tombs, being about the only source of light beside the moon.

     There were times like this in which he almost believed that such beautiful scenes were worth living for, but then those words would sneak right back in his mind.

     'We're through. If you won't accept doing it with me, you might as well do it alone.' Will monotonously suggested, handing Vicent the gun and simply walking away. 'I'll be waiting in Hell, by the pitchforks.' he ironically darted over his shoulder.

     Vicent sighed, reaching in his pocket to fish his phone. The tip of his thumb left spots of dirt on the screen as he searched in his contacts and tapped the man's name. Much like every time he had called him the past two weeks, the man didn't pick up.

     He was aware of the possibility of Will having killed himself, since he was so set on doing it before he even met Vicent, and yet the man didn't find it in him to feel bad. Hell, he was only angry that William would get away so easily with just death. He deserved much more after poisoning Vicent's mind the way he did.

     Yes, William had manipulated Vice into suicide and he knew it, but dig further nonetheless. His mind had been stained and there was nothing he could do about it now. Each boring, dull day behind the counter of the electronics shop and each lonely night in the bed of his small apartment all but begged for him to end it, just because of the man's taunting words echoing in his mind.