whispers and mutters volume 3: lysergic acid | blasnique

Chapter 27

THIRD PERSON

Blaster was awoken by the sunlight shining through his windows that were usually closed―but this time they were done and opened. He doesn't recall doing his curtains, hell―he didn't even try to touch them even once.

Weird.

His curtains weren't the only thing that's fixed. It's almost like a cleaning fairy that he probably saw in his dreams or even hallucinations did clean his house.

The shattered-into-pieces beer bottle was nowhere to be seen, it's like his whole place was cleaned.

He then turned to his bedside table―These fucking letters again―and what he saw was a letter, not enveloped and pretty much like a ripped off page from a notebook folded into a little rectangle, just to make it a little bit organized looking.

He had a second thought if he should just throw the letter away, cause he knew it would be filled with sweet words―but he was wrong for not letting his intuition get the best of him.

He slowly opened the letter―his heart was already broken―he haven't even read a single word yet.

These flowery words that Unique knew how to use―these words―these goddamn sentences that basically built Blaster's heart―at the same time it also broke it in into pieces.

Reading letters has never been such a stress and such a heartbreak.

But it didn't matter, he felt this heartbreak plenty of times.

He wanted to say "I love you" back, but he didn't want to take him away from Kristina and Elys―he'd surely take him away from Helen but the law won't let him, no one would anyway.

He just wanted to rest, put his soul to rest―his heart to rest.

Rest.

He'd break his own heart reading a letter from Unique, but he'd just break it all over again. His decisions while sober were never good in the first place.

He'd rest, but how? He'd sleep peacefully, but how? Throw himself out the window? Surely.

He only knew one escape from his problems―he wished he knew more.

Going to the club.

The most readied he has ever been was probably going to the club all dolled up―looking his best for another hookup. Or probably looking the most at a random street fight. (in which he never knew how he got himself in)

He'd give himself a treat.

How about get wasted tonight? Nothing possibly seems to go wrong..