Unsaid Words

Smoke and Alcohol

Seb opened the flat door. Its pungent odor of alcohol and cigarette smoke flooded over him. The smell didn't bother him much anymore. The only part of the flat that he bothered to keep smelling decent was their room.

He would regularly wash the sheets on their bed, even though no one had slept in them for months. He would take Jim's suits to the dry cleaner's to keep them from gathering dust in their closet. They used to smell exactly like Jim, but the smell had faded after their first few dry-cleanings. Now, Seb would spray a bit of Jim's cologne inside after every cleaning to keep him alive, in a way. Plus putting a bit of Jim's aftershave underneath each of the collars kept them smelling just like him.

Every morning and before Seb went to bed, he would spray a bit of Febreeze in their room to make sure it didn't adopt the smell of the rest of the flat. Sure, Seb couldn't be bothered to take care of himself or the rest of his flat, but all he had strength to do was keeping everything Jim owned looking like he was still living there.

Seb slipped his leather jacket off over his shoulders and hung it up on the door. He knew he should feel full from his dinner, but all he felt like doing was getting drunk as hell again.

After his ninth bottle, he decided to sleep it off. He stretched out on their couch and pulled his blanket over himself. Sure, he felt like shit sleeping alone, but at least there wasn't room for anyone else with him on the couch.

"Goodnight, Jim," Seb whispered. He reached out and turned the nearby lamp off, plunging the flat into near darkness.

In the dark, he stared up at the ceiling for a few moments as his eyes adjusted, and then rolled onto his side, facing the rest of the messy flat. Jim was squatting beside the couch near Seb's head, a blatant smile playing across his face.

Seb screamed. He sat bolt upright and crawled to the other side of the couch, trying to distance himself from the ghost as much as possible.

"What's wrong, Sebby?" Jim asked tauntingly, his dark, demon-like eyes fixed on Seb's face.

"You're dead!" Seb shouted, plunging his hand into the couch cushions, searching for what he knew had been dropped back there last week.

"Not to you," Jim laughed menacingly, unphased by Seb's shouting.

Seb pulled his handgun out of the cushions and pointed it straight at Jim's face, his hands shaking like mad.

"You think you can kill me?" Jim laughed mockingly. "I'll never be dead, Sebastian... in your head."

Jim's laughs became louder and more taunting, echoing around Seb's head and bouncing off the walls.

Tears ran down Seb's face as he pulled the trigger. The bang shattered his ears. They began to ring with Jim's shrill, psychopathic laughter as it only got louder.

Blood trickled down Jim's face from his hairline as he laughed, wide-eyed. Seb blinked. Jim disappeared, making Seb jump. He realized that a bullet hole was in the opposite wall. Jim had never been there.

Seb's shaking hands dropped the handgun, letting it clatter to the floor.

Seb fell to his side, onto the couch, and sobbed. Sobbed because he was slowly forgetting how Jim had actually been and wondering if Jim had just been a psychopath all along, just using Seb for sex on the weekends.

God, that was a terrifying thought. Maybe that was why Jim had never said it first. He had felt no attachment to Seb. Seb was an idiot for thinking otherwise.

The shaking in Seb's hands worsened. He closed and opened his fists, trying to push the shakiness away. He passed out with tears dormant in his eyes.

~

"How was your shopping trip, love?"
Seb hadn't been expecting to see Jim again so soon. He set his grocery bags on the counter, not looking up at Jim, who was leaning forward on his elbow, resting on the counter, an enticing smile pulling the corners of his mouth up.

"Piss off," Seb said, pretending Jim wasn't bothering him.

"What's wrong, Sebby?" Jim asked quietly, standing up straight walking closer, around the kitchen counter.

"Piss the hell off," Seb growled, hoping Jim wouldn't come any closer.

"Oh, sorry, love, does this bother you?" Jim asked innocently, turning around and gesturing to the back of his head.

His dark hair was soaked with blood in the back. His brain was completely blown out. Seb was sure that he could see the inside of Jim's skull.

His stomach turned over at the sight of it, sending waves of nausea through him.

Jim vanished with a blink. Seb felt like throwing up in his mouth.

"It's not real," he whispered to himself, tears forming in his eyes. "He's gone."

And yet, after nearly a year, Seb still wanted him alive. He didn't- couldn't- understand why.