Stupid Little Blue Haired Boy (boyxboy)

lets see...six?

alright...so. freakin'. tired.

yesterday was my birthday and i don't really remember what happened...-rubs head-

just kidding. but i like slept 'til, eleven eleven and i'm so just totally out of it.

here's number six.

i love you guys

_________________________________________________________________________

There's an elderly woman visiting her husband, leaving him a single flower, but other than her I'm alone.

I perch on the edge of his grave and wait for her to pass by.

She's dropped a red rose in front of the stone.

Her husband's name was Alfred, and judging by the style of the stone, was once involved in the United States military. There's so many of those here. It seems there's nothing better to do than watch Shakespeare and sell your soul to the army.

Justin would always tease me about my grades.

"With grades that bad, you'll never get a job besides the military. And they won't even take you."

"Oh? And why's that?"

He would stick his tongue out and lay back on the grass. "Your hair's too long!"

"Don't forget the 'Don't Ask, Don't Tell" policy," I'd remind him.

He'd laugh. Again with the laughter. "That's right. You just scream fairy."

"Shuttup." I tackled him, pressing his shoulders into the dirt. "You're a faggot too."

"As queer as they come, baby." He kissed my lips and rolled with me along the hill. We didn't care about the grass stains or the ripped knees, just the other boy in our arms.

When I turn to face a different direction, the memory diffuses. It sprays outwards like mist. He's gone.

Gone.

I can't get him back. I can't.

I can't stand.

I have to sit.

I fall to the ground and lean against the tombstone, surface new in comparison to the rest. His name burns into my back. I reach around the back and run my fingers into the crevices, not yet filled with mossy growth.

My breath catches in my throat; there's no way for it to come back up. It feels unfair to release it into such a cruel world.

I'm better off suffocating and dying right here, next to the one I love.

The plot of land beside his is open and free- I could be buried there. Maybe in a century our coffins will have rotted away and our bones will stretch out in the dirt, our hands resting in each other's forever.

It's a grotesque thought, but in the most romantic of ways. It's kind of like that Tim Burton movie, where the girl's arm kept falling off and they stood in front of the moon on the hill in the graveyard.

Nightmare Before Christmas, or something.

Justin liked that movie.

Goddammit, is there anything Justin didn't like or do or say left in this world? Do I have any escape?

How am I supposed to heal when everything I see reminds me of him?

Even the littlest things. The way the rain smells in the middle of the night and the pictures of him around our house and the costume shop downtown where him and I would spend hours trying on ridiculous wigs and rolling on the floor and...shit.

I can't take it. I have to stop. It's still too soon.

Scars don't heal when you keep cutting.

"Justy," I moan. I sound like a deranged porn star. "Justy, I miss you. Come back, please."

I find myself on my hands and knees, pleading with the dirt.

"Please come back. I need you now."

Nothing seems to take pity on me and answer my prayers. I'm still alone, clawing at the ground beneath my fingers, struggling to regain any understanding over my life.

"I can't do this alone. Why me? Why did it have to be you? Justin...it wasn't even your fault."

The evil little voice in my head opens his eyes and stretches awake.  "He didn't deserve it."

Of course he didn't deserve it. Out of all the people in the world, Justin was the last who deserved to die.

He never put himself first. Always others needs went before his own. I'd never heard him complain, only laugh at all the things he did have. He appreciated everything, every life and every cell.

"Life is a gift, Damian," he told me, "and I'm the luckiest boy alive to be able to share mine with you. Just remember."

He pointed up to the sky.

"Forever."

Forever.

"Forever," I mumble. I scream it. "Forever!"

Again and again until I'm sobbing and tugging the grass out, roots and all.

My throat is begging for me to stop. But I can't keep myself from letting go. I've lost all control.

"Foreverforeverforeverforeverforever," my words blur together.

"Forever," I repeat, and collapse into the soil.

I'm nowhere near safety, and feel myself go over the edge of sanity.

Nothing matters anymore, as my eyes click shut.

A laugh. That's all that this picture starts from. A laugh and my whole world spins so fast I have trouble staying on my feet.

"Woah there, you okay?" A comforting hand catches me around the elbow and keeps my face away from the fall.

"Thanks Justy." I hide my blush in his shoulder.

He smells so fucking good.

"What do you want to do?" he speaks into my hair, the vibrations traveling through the skin on the surface.

The night is young and right now is all that matters.

He is mine, and I am his. Nobody can take this from us.

"I don't care."

"Come on, Damian, this is your night. Tonight, it's all about you."

The whole world lies ahead of us, a blank canvas just waiting for our brushes. Life is a game and the world is our board. We are the pieces and we're just itching for someone to roll the dice.

Tonight, the two white cubes are held fast in my palm. I release them with no intention of retrieval.

There is no going back now.

It's only been a couple of seconds, but Justin's hand wraps around my own and the memory is complete. There doesn't need to be anything more for it to be worth remembering.

I don't know why I remember, or why that particular memory, but when I resurface, I'm able to breathe again. The world doesn't look so gray and there seems to be a break in the storm.

Cold sunlight filters down through the clouds.

While I'm busy remembering, I can begin to forget.