Pentatonix One Shots

City of Pain

Back when we first began, I didn’t understand how it felt to miss someone. Back when we first began, I was as naive as the next man, blissfully unaware of the meaning of true pain. I never thought we’d end; I thought we were unbreakable, invincible. But now I’m invisible - a ghost, locked away from the rest of the world as it continues on like a never ending horror movie. I’m trapped in the movie that we titled as ‘ours’ until you left, and then it became mine, and mine alone.

There’s no cure for the pain that comes with this heavy heart that weighs down my chest. There’s no cure for the regret and guilt that now flow through my body with my blood. There’s no way for me to rejoin the world I now observe – I’ve drifted too far away. Today’s the same as every other day, but it isn’t. It’s been a year. It’s been an entire year since the last time I saw your face, the last time I was able to look into those brown eyes. I hurt you. I could see it in the way you looked at me; I could see the fear, the pain. I shouted. You cried. I shouted. You left and you never came back.

It was my fault.

I don’t even want to think about why we were arguing – I know I was wrong, jumping to conclusions in the way that I had - but I wish I could take back and then swallow each of those words I spat, lock them up in my chest and throw away the key to keep them from you. You had done nothing to deserve any insults... it was all me. I want someone to wake me up and tell me it’s just another nightmare. I have those quite a lot now - recurring nightmares where I lose you all over again. I spoke to Kirstie yesterday. I think she mentioned something about trying to see you, or something. I’d like to see you, but I can’t. You don’t want to see me anyway. I’m not the man you fell in love with. That’s what you said. My head hurts. I want to sleep. I want to see you.

I’ve grown to detest love. Actually, it didn’t really grow. It just happened. I can’t love anyone because you left with my heart, so I hate it. But I don’t hate you, Mitch. I could never hate you. You are still my ‘everything’, even if you don’t care. Everyone around me tried to help me move on in the same way that they did, but eventually, they got tired of waiting and left me behind. Everyone’s been texting me today, but I don’t want to read any of it. It’s only the same dumb question of, “Are you okay?” and the same statement of, “I’m sorry,” and it’s so pointless because it changes nothing. It won’t cure this pain in my chest. It won’t help me sleep at night. It won’t console me. It won’t bring you back to me.

Nothing will bring you back.

A year ago, I told you to leave.

A year ago, they found your body in your car.

Overdose, they said. Suicide, they said.

Today, they’ll find my body on our couch.

Overdose, they’ll say. Suicide, they’ll say.

And this pain will stop.

I miss you, Mitch.

I love you.