Pieces//DARKSTACHE

All A Joke

The next morning was odd to me.

I woke up with the instinct to get dressed and go to work. For a moment, I held myself back. I wondered why I was hesitating my everyday routine. I had forgotten all about my activities from the night before, leaving me clueless as to why something told me not to get out of bed.

"Hey, asshole," Anti called from outside my door. He tapped his knife on my door a time or two. Then he began scraping my door. Just his voice and the sounds of his knife were enough to make me remember that, as of last night, Damien Edward was declared dead.

"Yo, dickhead!" Anti grew impatient. I could hear the metal of his knife scraping my door as he stood and just that was enough to drive me mad with irritation.

"What?" I call, trying to get him to stop that god awful noise.

"You're dead so don't bother even getting ready for work. Didn't know if you'd remember or not." Anti said from outside. I could hear him snarling at me, his tone mocking my existence and I brushed him off. It wasn't irritating at the moment, so why overreact?

I listened closely as the scraping stopped - thank god - and then I heard his footsteps going down the stairs. My normally tensed self relaxed as I debated on getting out of bed or going back to sleep. I'm making my own choice on what to do. I smile to myself.

Finally, I decide my overactive mind and body wouldn't let me lie there any longer than necessary; for this reason, I get up out of bed.

As I reach my door, I hear someone sobbing hysterically in the kitchen.

"A-Anti, you c-can't tell me he's r-really dead." I heard Wilford cry.

I felt a sharp pain in my heart. We were good friends and - as of yesterday - fuck buddies, but I didn't think he was going to be so upset over my apparent death. Unless it really was love on his part...

"I'm sorry, Wilford, but he's gone." Anti stated grimly.

I crept silently from my room as the voices floated up the stairs. Wilford sobbed harder and I felt my heart wrench violently. It was like my heart itself was spasming. I grabbed my chest as a literal sadness crept into the bottom of my lungs.

"He c-can't be." Wilford huffed as his breathing became more sporadic.

I made my way to the bottom of the stairs, peeking out into the kitchen where Wilford sat at the table. He was gripping his heart, tears pouring from his eyes as he looked up at Anti with a pleading look. He took his hand from his heart and began to wring his hands together, a habit of his for when he was upset or in distress. He stared up at Anti, eyes watery and begging him to say it was a lie.

"He is, Wilford." Anti said darkly. Wilford made me want to grab a bottle of whiskey and join in on his pity party. The look in his eyes was so depressing.

"The last thing I told him was that I loved him," Wilford relaxed completely and went limp to stare at his hands that were softly clasped together in his lap, "I just wanted to be with him..."

My eyes widened and my jaw dropped. He had told me he loved me right before I'd left his office and I blew him off. Yesterday was his golden opportunity to make a move and I blindly saw it as a harmless fuck fling. He really wanted to be with me and now that I'm dead to the public, we can't be together. Even if he knew I was alive, we still couldn't be together. It was for multiple reasons - not just me being an asshole. Either way, I felt like a huge idiot. I needed to have a good slap in the face and this was it. This was reality looking me dead in the eyes and saying "way to go, dumbass". I can't believe it took Wilford to make me realize it.