If you are triggered, I'd advise you don't read. Please take this warning
"Would you rather one breathe or a Lifetime Supply of oxygen?" With that she got up and left, leaving Blake even more confused...
The words slowly, but surly, sunk into the brain of the brunette as he rushed towards the chapel.
Rushing up the stairs and round the corner, every step seeming to be pushing him farther away from his desired destination.
Each step exhausted him more and more to the point where he was going to give up, but there was just. 5. More. Steps.
Finally, after the longest adventure ever, his hand met the handle and he slowly turned it, excited to see the person the room held. He cried with frustration and sadness as he noticed the blonde had left. Blake felt his heart tear a little as he did not know where the young blonde ventured off to. He could have left, he could be at the alter, for all the taller of the two knew, the blonde could be his car, driving as far away as possible so as to not realise what this pain could cause him.
-
The muffled cries that fell from George's mouth couldn't explain the real pain he was going through. His back rested on the wall behind him, as he sobbed and sobbed and sobbed.
This is all my fault, he thought, if I hadn't have said anything I would still be okay. He would still be okay. Everything would be okay.
He wailed out in emotional pain, pulling his head in closer to his knees, the thought of Blake not bringing its usual comfort, but loneliness and sadness.
-
The slumped shoulders and the droopy eyes of the brunette gave you the indication that he was tired and in a sense he was. Tired he couldn't think straight ((neither can i😏😅))tired of his stupid mind and the thoughts it sold him. He was tired of fate, and if that didn't exist he would still be happy with Hope. Most of all, he was tired with himself. He was tired that he wasn't normal.
"Reece mate, have you seen George? I been looking all over for him and I need to find him. It's urgent!" Exclaimed Blake as he frantically searched his brain for anywhere George could possibly be.
"Did he tell you, you know, that?"
Blake didn't give a proper response. He just lowered his head and shifted awkwardly from foot to foot.
"Oh fuck, I'm going to kill him," hissed the older male towards the awkward response.
"No. Please don't. I just need to talk to him,"
-
The tub planted in the blonde's pocket rattled while he rocked back and forth, thinking of something to write.
-
This was it. The last place Blake hadn't looked. George's room. ((I know right)). His hand fell for the handle, struggling with great difficulty to twist it open.
This is it. He thought. He's in here. I hope he's in here
The tub had fallen, pills spilling. A limp hand found difficulty keeping grasp of the tub.
Fuck. No.
Blake stepped through the the door frame, spying the body of the one he loved lying debilitated on the ground.
He checked the blonde's pulse. Nothing.
"No. No. This can't be happening,"
Tears streaming, hands shaking. He was a mess.
His shaking, blurred hands hugged the dead body.
He killed himself.
"I love George Smith. I always have and always will. Always,"
《~》
Sorry. I just didn't want it to end that they'd end up together and shot and I wanted to be original and shit. This is dedicated to trashforbands because she is a sweet heart and likes my writing (which I find really hard to believe) again I'm sorry for this. But anyway. Mwah
