most likely goodies ; an update book

Gone

Brice sighed, his eyes drooping down towards the envelope in his sweaty palms. A ragged cloak laid on his lap; stained and bloodied. It smelled metallic, unwashed and used for recent war. He didn't want to believe anything—he didn't want to believe what this "reality" was on his lap. Of course, curiosity got the better of him.

And curiosity always killed the cat.

The envelope was fresh and warm, almost as if it had just came out of a printer. It smelled a mix of coconut and vanilla—two scents that Seto had smelled like. He felt the waves of nostalgia coming back to him about this one faithful day—the faithful day of the passing of a Sorcerer.

He was ready for the feelings that would hit him like a truck, he was ready for the brunet's last words that were written on a single piece of paper and stored away for years until the day would come. Brice opened the envelope carefully, making sure its insides would not be torn. The sounds of shredding seemed to comfort the Australian as he slowly pulled out the folded letter. He had hoped it would have been short and sweet. Quickly unfolding the letter, he grabbed his reading glasses and murmured to himself within the desolate house, "Let's get this over with."

His crystal blue orbs began scanning the paper. It wasn't brief, it was full of words that were written in cursive and smudged purple ink. Considering Seto was left handed, it wasn't much of a surprise that the smudges were all over the paper, along with some spilled ink on the upper hand left corner. It made him smile considering the brunet's uptight neatness that was considerably present within the household.

Dear Brice,

You're reading this and you already knew what was coming. It isn't much of a surprise, considering my luck as a Sorcerer. I was the youngest—of course I would end up as a target. What saddens me is that young people are usually not suppose to write last wills and already know their death is approaching.

So, I'm currently writing this while you're asleep next to me. I'm using that stupid little night light we bought because I was afraid of the dark; its the one with the little moon and stars that can light up the room and make the both of us smile. It flickers sometimes, and it's not really the best source of light. But, of course, I can glance back at your face within the mixing darkness and light and see a small smile on your lips, curved and happy.

I honestly don't know what else to say since I'm gone. Everything about my life was always going downhill, almost as if it was an avalanche. My childhood, my friends, Team Crafted, the war—it was all soon to come. You made me happy for the moments I had left on this wretched planet that we both call home.

I always thought I would live a long life with you, but today that's not the case. I died, it's as simple as that. No more spells, no more laughter, no more happiness, no more seeing your smile when I wake up, and no more of your scent. I can't wear those stupid pajamas you bought me anymore, and I can't wear your oversized leather jacket that would always droop past my arms (in which I could violently slap your arm with). Nothing lasts forever I guess.

Please live on without me, I know you can do it. When I said I'll be back this morning and you expected me to be there laying at your side this evening—I'm sorry I lied.

Farewell,
Seto Sorcerer

It was bittersweet, really.

The first few weeks without Seto were rough. Brice washed his cloak and it smelled of fresh vanilla and coconut—yet he wasn't there to wear it. The large, warm bed that Seto and him had slept in felt cold; empty without his presence cuddling into his chest. There was no happiness; it was all just bland and peachy.

There was no stereotypical funeral, there was no mourners. There wasn't anybody who dropped by to check on Brice, or anyone who would tell him "Sorry For Your Loss." There wasn't anybody with him, and he was sure that nobody knew the death of a Sorcerer. Brice would be the only mourner—the lone mourner that no one knew of.

Slowly, Brice began to lose himself. He didn't get up in the mornings, he just stayed in bed moping and hugging Seto's fading pillow scent. The covers never could top Seto's warmth on a cold, winter's evening where they would just cuddle the night away. He began forgetting how the brunet looked like; his smile and his adorable laugh. His mind was scattered, lost.

The cloak was always there, vigil and staring at him during the evening. It was hung against the mahogany colored door as a constant reminder of what Brice had lost. It was always fresh even though it wasn't washed on a daily basis. It felt like something was there, but Brice knew there wasn't anything there.

The envelope and the letter still lay on the coffee table, untouched ever since Brice had opened it. The scent from that letter wasn't fading as well, it seemed like as if it was taunting Brice. It angers him, saddens him, but he'd just brush it off and continue moping to himself.

Yet, within all the density of sadness and an endless spiral of pain and misery was a light. He could remember that evening; quiet and ever so lonely. The cold breeze from an open window didn't subside, and the room was cold. He didn't know if it was his imagination as he laid down in bed, alone as usual. The covers were gone, it was tossed into a corner leaving only the mattress. Brice didn't want to go get it, he wasn't in the mood.

He faced the side where Seto would sleep, the right side of the bed, and remembered his face. The lush, brunet hair he had, the soft lips that were curved into a smile, and his purple dotted pajamas that were always wrinkled. They would always whisper good night to each other while Brice would wrap his protective arms around Seto, but now that's gone.

It was all gone.

Laying on the cold mattress, his body shivering and weak, he whispered out loud to himself, "Goodnight."

He felt a warmth cuddling close to his chest, followed by a soft voice, "Goodnight, Brice."