Very, Very Unfortunate

oh.

words: 1462
plot: all plot goes in the description
authors note: AGAIN, LOOK AT THE DESCRIPTION. THERE IS SUICIDE, DEPRESSION, AND MADNESS IN THIS STORY, if not bothered, continue on.

This was very, very unfortunate. He felt blisters all around himself, numb, to say the least. He tries to move, move a limb, even the slightest twitch would've been fine with him. But he could only feel his chest rise up and down in a gasp. His body was still in position to run towards the other, though, not making a move. His dark chocolate eyes kept trailing down to the floor and then to where they were at. They were on the top of a hotel building, the view of other buildings being bright in the dark sky. If you were there, you'd be laying on the ground, stargazing and feeling the bliss come towards you to wish you a good night's dream. Only, there were only them, the two that "hates" each other so. God, if only he could be able to do something,but he couldn't, the other just stood there.

And he hated it.
So the other decides to speak, through all that's happened, he was the first to actually do something. "Ignatius.." The other trails off, Ignatius jumping a little as the other starts faltering towards Ignatius, hesitant. "Azrael,"  Ignatius states blandly, realizing Azrael's placement of a thin, sharp pocket knife into his soft hand. Ignatius finally straightens his posture when seeing the knife, looking at Azrael clearly. Ebony black messy hair that curls in different ways, the hair that he loved to get his hand tangled in for being so soft, so smooth. Light pastel colored eyes with a splatter of brown like blood surrounding the pupil, making his eyes a bright hazel, the eyes he had learned to love to stare at the different colors. Nice light brown tan skin with brown freckles he knew to count to calm down. In Ignatius' eyes, Azrael was perfect, beautiful, amazing for himself. Ignatius loved him. As Azrael had loved him the same.

But it was present. That was in the past. The past in which they loved each other so and had dated for an amount of time before getting away because nobody accepted them. Of course not. The bastards. All that lead up to now. "I'm the villain, aren't I?" Azrael spoke out, looking down to where he placed the pocket knife in Ignatius hand. "I am the Angel of Death. The one who comes by and feeds people a taste of their own nothingness and fall." he whispers, his voice so small that only Ignatius could hear him. "You aren't," Ignatius confirms, Azrael raising an eyebrow as Ignatius bit his lip in hesitation. "Hun." He finally croaks out, feeling tears brim his eyes as he remembers what they had been through together. "I'm making you cry!" Azrael cries out, roughly grabbing Ignatius hand with the knife and points the knife where his heart area is at, poking it a little. "Do it." He demands, Ignatius breaking out a few tears and shaking his head, repeating "no" over and over.
Azrael makes the knife dig into his skin slightly.
"Do it. Do it for your own good. It's better. Everyone would be better and alive if I weren't here." He growls, "kill me!" he yells loudly, "do it! please!" he begged, choking on his own sobs. Ignatius pries his hand away from the knife, only Azrael holding it. "I'll do it myself." Azrael spats out, digging the knife deeper into his skin as he tries to go through the skin layer. Ignatius screams, pushing Azrael to the floor and getting on top of him, gripping onto the knife to try to pull it out.
But it was only too late. The knife had gotten deep under the skin layer, only some of the blood flowing out as tons of blood had flown out of Azraels mouth, the lips Ignatius kissed being filled with blood.
And the lips Ignatius had had screamed loudly with pounds of tears flowing down his cheeks and chin.
A police car arrived. An Ambulances sirens blared from down belie the building. Everything was happening too fast. He could feel himself go into that awful bliss that once promised him a good night's dream. But it only gave him a blank space.
The next morning he had woken up late, almost being 2 PM as the sun shined through the curtains.
Ignatius sobbed into his hands.
The next week he didn't go out. Didn't want to go back to see the hotel building in which he tried. Didn't want to get up. Wanted to stay in bed and be blissed with nothing. Didn't eat. Didn't go to the bathroom. Didn't do anything.
And yet he still felt the presence of Azrael cuddling and holding him close. Still felt Azrael get out of bed to make breakfast. Still smelt the bacon and eggs he would eat. Still heard Azraels faint voice, "come on, beautiful!" or, "let's eat food, sleepy head!" and sometimes it would drag him in. It'd drag him out of bed, excited, and it'd drag him to the kitchen where he saw nothing. He'd be dissapointed, thinking the same thing, "probably at work.." before realizing what he had thought and sobbing to himself exclusively. He hated the routine. He hated feeling alive. He hated himself. He wishes he could've helped Azrael. But he didn't.
He only played music on and waited for  death to come take him. Maybe even Azrael take him. He waited and waited, waited for the door to open, waited for Azraels beautiful and charming voice ring in his voice. But couldn't find the door open or hear Azrael.
It was until one day, he had gotten up. He went to the kitchen and smiled, talking to himself as if he were talking to Azrael. Chuckling, laughing, smiling, blushing, giggling, and all to himself. As if he were talking to Azrael. He ate up his burnt up eggs and threw up on the cold white floor. Only Azrael would cook for him wonderfully. He then walked to his bathroom, did his business, and looked at his horrible smiling face. His teeth were a bit yellow here and there but he brushed them harshly to make them white again. He then took his worn out brush and tried to comb through his hair, adding Azrael's type of gel that he never used anymore. His teeth were as white can be and his dirty blonde hair was better than it had been in the past few weeks. He felt Azrael's presence hug him from behind and giggled, melting into the untouched touch as he got out of his "grip" and took a shower. A shower with Azrael in which Azrael's hands were searching and loving as they explored his body as they never did before. Not any more, so to say.  After that, he got himself dressed properly and walked outside, seeming to hold Azrael's hand. He walked out into the refreshing sun and layed on the soft grass, how everything felt against him, how he loved it so. It was then he turned to look at the hotel building, everything turned gray. He felt Azraels presence fade and he knew immediately. Azraels spirit was trying to hunt him away from the house. Trying to get him to live his life again. Ignatius (His own name, the name he had been teased by Azrael, "Igneous" he would say) remembered. Remembered everything and he turned gray and pale, screaming as he sobbed and cried and cried, running back inside and breathing heavily. Kicking everything was all he remembered. All before going back to bed and not moving.
Next morning was pleasant. Not as pleasant as you think though. He got up in a flash of a moment and grabbed a rope. A rope. He grabbed a chair to stand on as he hunged the rope up to a high hook on the ceiling meant to hold wires and quickly wrapped a knot around his neck. He already felt as if he couldn't breathe as he stood on the chair. He kicked the chair out of his way, eager to see Azrael again. He then felt a sudden purge in his throat a choking, and then a silence, a bliss. A bliss.
He saw his love as he closed his eyes and smiled gently at him, seeing Azrael smile, then frown a second later.
He got to see Azrael, kissed him and hugged him and messed with his hair and stare into his bright hazel eyes. Which were filled with nothing but…Disappointment.
He came to live a good life. In heaven. With Azrael. Even if there was not one. Not wanting to die forever and not wake up again. Not to disappoint Azrael.
Even then, though.
Everything had been very, very unfortunate.

p.s. Azrael is the angel of death so like- yayyayaya- Ignatius is just a random kid in my class who hates me but I needed some kind of unique name so yeah there ya go- unfortunately ;) ok I'll stop