oneshots 2.

01; donah

ghost of you.

—
here i am waking up.
still can't sleep on your side.

jonah's eyes slowly opened. his face still red and puffy, tear streaks down his cheeks. he rolled over, his hand falling on the empty spot. he rubbed the fabric between his fingers, trying to breathe in the scent which has faded away.

there's your coffee cup.
the lipstick stain fades with time.

jonah peeled himself off the bed, heading into the kitchen. his green eyes fixture onto the white mug on the counter. it hasn't left since that day. he picked it up, holding it the way his lover used to.

if i can dream long enough,
you'll tell me i'll be just fine.
i'll be just fine.

he closed his eyes, breathing in deeply. he listened to his voice, "it's okay, bear." his heart fluttered. his old nickname. he reached out, wanting to feel his face. he fell forewords, catching himself as his eyes shot open. he looked around, sighing once he wasn't there.

cleaning up today,
found that old zepplin shirt.

jonah told himself to start cleaning up his messy home. clothes, books, and bottles laid across the floors. he started in the bedroom. he pulled off the black shirt that hung over the lamp, red, worn-out letter across the top. his favorite shirt.

you wore it when you ran away.
no one could feel your hurt.

jonah remembered him coming to his house that night. he remembered his tears, his posture, his words. "let's leave." that was when jonah knew, he trusted him.

we're too young, too dumb,
to know things like love.
but i know better now.
better now.

the two were teenagers when they fell in love. they didn't know it yet, but grew a strong affection towards each other. jonah always knew he didn't love the boy correctly. but it took his death to figure it out.

so i drown it out,
like i always do.

jonah tried ignoring the voices. the voices that told him it was his fault. he knew it wasn't. but he could've made an effort to help him. but he still goes on with his day. pushing away the thought. the thought that he didn't save him.

dancing through our house,
with the ghost of you.

jonah loved daniel's passion to dance. daniel's ardor was for classical music. the times were countless when jonah walked in on daniel spinning around, his eyes closed gently. jonah loved to watch him until he noticed. pulling him up off the couch, and into his arms. jonah pictured them dancing together like they did many times. many, many times.

jonah put the beer bottle to his lips before slamming it back down on the table. he swallowed hard, standing up. he stumbled to the middle of the living room, resting his arms out like he was holding daniel.

and i chase it down,
with a shot of truth.

jonah stepped back, taking a deep breath. he closed his eyes, letting daniel fill his mind. the way his feet, his hips, his arms, hands, fingers moved all together in one beautiful motion. he pictured it.

he tried daniel's motions. he tried watching daniel's feet. he tried to remember how daniel told him to move. but he couldn't.

that my feet don't dance,

jonah swayed back and forth. he slid his feet across the wooden floor, his eyes still closed. "you're doing good bear!" he listens to daniel's voice.

he smiled lightly. but his eyes then shot open. his foot tripped over the other, sending him to crash on the floor.

he laid there. his insides like broken glass. "it's okay, bear. just try again." but he didn't. he couldn't. not without daniel.

like they did with you.

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word count. | 631