Kylar Knight
The misery was the same, yet it was like no other.
It was pain that branded itself on his blistering heart, burning as it mixed blood with fire to create an agonizing effect that lasted. The knife dug deep, carving his heart as the sharpest of blades ripped at the tissue. The fire's flames only grew at each of his encounters with his greatest fear, slowly melting each tissue, each wall, as it charred his heart to a position from which it could never recover.
The way the color of her eyes melted as she held a gaze with some sort of affection clearly knitted within the dark green of her irises. He, himself, had gotten lost in the color so many times before, but for that green melt to a shade just a touch lighter, was something he wished only to be able to do for her. Yet, it had always been the others who could, their lips on hers as they moved as if one. He watched every single time as she chose yet another stranger, flirting endlessly before awarding them with her lips.
It was that, her passion for others, that truly fed the fire which scorched his broken heart.
He had watched all too many times, and each time, the pain was all the same. But each time was also unique; it was almost as if it hurt more, like the pain was only getting stronger. His body followed along, his defense aiding him as it helped him endure the misery, teaching him to cope with what each blade across his heart brought.
She was his friend, and someone who had always been there for him. He had always held her in his arms, giving a small peck to her forehead every time the stranger and her didn't work out. Knowing her for so long, he couldn't but help feel something more that friendship for her. How was it that someone who brought him so much joy, hurt him so much as well?
The truth was that he, Kylar Knight, was utterly and helplessly in love with Blythe Sullivan.
The liquid sloshed down his throat, sizzling and roaring as it gave him sort of fuel. It burned the edges of his throat, flooding through his insides in a heated flow as it fell to his stomach where it splashed within. He felt dry inside, and the alcohol only brought a flame of such pain, and to connect it with the lack of moisture resulted only in a raging fire inside. He opened his eyes as the last of the liquid disappeared through the bottom of his throat, and he slammed the glass cup on the counter of the bar. The remaining drink, really just a few droplets moved slightly as they found another position on the inside of the glistening glass.
It was on a rare occasion that he let himself drink, wasting himself away as the alcohol dulled his senses and he found himself drunk. It would always be stringed to Blythe in some way, his reasons usually having to do with perhaps her latest boyfriend. He hated them all, perhaps because he was jealous of their relationship with Blythe, but anytime he saw them with her he would leave to do something else. On certain occasions when his pain or jealousy was stronger, he would find himself a spot at the bar where he would drink his sorrows away.
His pain would dwindle until his dulled senses would diminish it, but never would it truly go away. It was always there, because it would always be coming back. Realizing, that perhaps, his alcohol intake had reached a reasonable level, he stood to his feet. Each stride he took was wobbly, and his surroundings had become blurred. He found himself shaking, and she wasn't here to give him a shoulder for support. That was what truly took a another punch at his heart. Trying to ignore his emotions, he walked without truly any specific destination.
The darkness that surrounded him seemed to be everlasting.
It was solitude that overcame him as he bathed in the darkness that night had brought upon him. Drunk and wasted with scattered thoughts, he had wandered into a shady alley. He clung to himself, not a friend beside him, with a heart that had been ripped long ago, the shreds being shattered again and again in a repeated process he wasn't sure would ever cease. With his gaze forward, and nothing staring back at him, he knew that he was truly alone.
