"You've always got a place to stay, as long as I'm here."
Where the fuck are you now?
"I'm never going to leave you."
Yeah, right.
"I love you."
Fucking liar.
"Brian, you make me want to live again."
Then why aren't you here?!
Brian Haner sat at the kitchen table in his one-bedroom house, looking down at the black box that was placed between his elbows. He held his head up by resting it on the palms of his hands, and his fingertips glistened with freshly shed tears that had trailed from his stunning brown eyes. He opened the box, his eyes falling upon the sight of a small silver wedding band, set with two stones; one ruby, and one turquoise. He'd custom ordered the ring for the person he planned on giving it to, so that it would be extra special.
"Son of a bitch!" He screamed, picking up the box and throwing it at the wall. The box broke apart and the ring clattered to the floor, but Brian didn't pick it up. "You bastard!! How could you leave me like this?! You fucking coward!" He cried into the empty air for what seemed like the millionth time that month.
"You think you were the only one with problems?!" His strained voice echoed around the empty house. "You think you were the only one who just wanted to give up?! You son of a bitch, how could you do this to me?! To all of us!" The tears spilled down his cheeks like a rushing river, and for the first time, he didn't stop them. He reared his fist back and then swung it at the wall, a resounding crack echoing through the air when the wall gave way to his strength. His tattooed hand was throbbing and bleeding, but that didn't stop him from punching the wall several more times.
He slid down to the floor, his entire body overcome with the trembling of his powerful sobs. "Why couldn't you just let me save you?" He whispered, his heart breaking all over again as he recalled what he'd seen a month earlier. He didn't want to think about it.. The sight of his hazel-eyed love, in the bed, his head lulled to the side and the smell of death in the air. The note that he gripped in his cold, lifeless hand..
Suddenly, Brian knew what he needed to do.
He picked up the phone, dialing the number of Matt Sanders, his best friend. It only rang twice before the line was picked up, and Matt's deep voice spoke a, "Brian?" into the receiver.
"H-hey," Brian stuttered. "I just wanted to call and... And say thank you, and that I love you, dude. You're my best friend."
"What are you thanking me for? Brian, what-" Click. Onto the next call. He dialed the second most recent number in the phone, which belonged to Jimmy Sullivan; his tall, lanky, blue-eyed friend that was witness to what he'd seen.
"Hello?" The slightly lisping voice of Jimmy came through the phone.
"Jimmy," He said. "Thank you for being there for me. I love you. Tell Johnny the same thing. I'll see you guys later." Click.
Unfortunately, their definitions of later were astronomically different.
Brian stalked over to the garage door, sighing deeply before he opened it and went inside. He'd been planning something like this for two weeks now.. So he had all the supplies he needed.
Six gas cans and two boxes of matches.
He grabbed two of the gas cans, emptying them across the carpet floor throughout the house. He continued until every gas can was emptied onto the floor, furniture, pretty much anything he could saturate with it. He went into the kitchen and grabbed the ring off of the floor, staring down at it with tears in his eyes. Soon... He thought, going and sitting on the love seat.
The love seat, the place he and Zacky had made love so many times before, was saturated with gasoline. When Brian sat down, his clothes absorbed some of the pungent liquid from the cloth on the furniture.
Brian sighed shakily, lighting a single match and throwing it on the ground in front of him. The flames started slowly, but soon enough, they were spread across the entire living room. Soon, they would climb onto the couch, and finally, they would engulf him. He rested his head against the cushions and closed his eyes, breathing in the scent of flames and some of his most prized possessions turning into ash. All of that didn't matter to him anymore.
As the flames climbed up onto the opposite side of the love seat, Brian could feel a presence near him. He opened his eyes and was met with a shimmering image of the love of his life, his hazel eyes clouded with tears and pain.
"...Brian." He murmured softly, stepping forward and taking his love's face into his hands. "Close your eyes... Don't watch.. It will hurt less." So, Brian closed his eyes and sniffled softly, relieved that he would be with his love soon. "The stars in the night, they lend me their light to bring me closer to heaven with you.." Zacky's voice sang as he felt the flames climb across his chest. He didn't scream. He didn't try to put them out. He simply embraced it, embraced his demise, embraced the sounds of Zacky singing the song they'd written together just half a year before.
Soon enough, it was all over. Brian could no longer feel the flames, nor did he feel any pain or discomfort from what he'd just done. However, he didn't want to open his eyes yet. Not until he knew for sure that Zacky was there. He knew that he was standing, and he could feel a cool breeze rustling his feathery black hair.
"Brian.." He heard the sweet, distinctive voice of the love of his life. "You can open your eyes... You're home."
And so he did.
