Langst One-shots

An accident was it?

The rush of cars zooming by flushing wind into his face can feel......reassuring.

Sure it's something no one ever thinks about, no one pays attention to cars passing by. Everyone is just doing their job, minding each others business.

Sometimes

when he walk down the street, watching the many cars fly past him. He imagines

running and lifting himself off the sidewalk, and flinging himself onto the hundreds of cars in bustling traffic.

It's just a thought though.

Of course hes never tried, he wouldn't be here if he did.

God he wished he wasn't.

He doesn't have to feel sad, exploding with tears to feel like that.

Sometimes he just feels nothing.

His face going numb and legs walking forward as if controlled like a robot. Mesmerized by the cars driving by.

Some late to work, some on their way to loved ones, some just finished their grocery shopping and some just want to collapse at home.

Boy it would be so selfish to ruin their day.

Blood spattered everywhere, a dead lifeless body sprawled against their car window. They didn't even know him but they feel sad don't they. For someone they hardly got a glimpse of, who they knew nothing of. Yet they feel sad, maybe even angry for staining their brand new car. Out of all the cars passing by the stranger decided to jump in front of them, oh why did it have to be them?

They would need a lawyer of course, if the family tried to sue them. The family didn't believe it was their son, their beautiful and cheerful son, they wouldn't believe.

Suicide? Hardly a thought that would pass his mind.

His friends never saw the signs.

You have to believe me judge, he would never do this to himself, to us.

But the face, partly unrecognizable at the morgue says it all.

He would gasp at his hideous reflection if he saw, he forgot to put his daily day cream on today.

What a bright student he was, the teachers all say.

Too bad they never said it to his face.

Lance was amazing, he never failed to put a smile on my face.

Lies

He was the star of our dance club, a shame he had to go so soon.

Lies

Of course you can never say these things when he's alive. That would defeat the purpose of mourning wouldn't it?

But the dead boy can't blame anyone for it.

Not his teachers, not his parents nor his friends.

Who could he blame it on?

His legs for making the jump?

His brain for sending the command?

Or the strange peace he felt when he did jump.

Instant death they would announce, a blow to the brain and it shuts down like a computer plug ripped from the outlet.

I guess it's sad isn't it.

Poor driver, I'm sorry you'd have to go through that.

How selfish it would be to ruin your day.

Author's notes: Sorry it's short, I had fun writing it tho