[Trigger Warning: mentions of depression/suicide]
this is short but important okay
Joe shut the box and shoved it back under the couch, carding his trembling fingers through his hair and cursing to himself. He was forgetting, more and more each day and she was fading, gone from his reach a long time ago but now she wasn't even visible in the most desolate corners of his mind.
He should cry at night because the love of his life fell through his fingers but all he wants to do is gather Charlotte up in his arms, wants to feel the heat radiate off her skin, following the wisps of smoke she so artfully breathes.
It eats away at him every second of every day, and the thought pains him because if he was to lay his cards out for the world to see, he was fucked. Leah, the girl he'd been in love with since he was sixteen, the girl who taught him about the right and wrongs, good and bad, promised him an infinity of happiness and security and never asked for anything in return, the girl who he would of taken a bullet for, still would. The girl who he'd give his left arm just to see again, who was now buried 6ft under and yet, god help him, he missed the disconsolate girl in the apartment a five minute drive away, more.
It ripped him open, all of it, every single waking moment when he wasn't lying half drunk on his bed with an equally as paralyzed girl who wanted nothing more than to feel compassion. He wasn't meant to feel like this, he was meant to jump long ago, he was meant to descend from the middle and let the water rid him of the life he had left. Then she happened, all flushed cheeks and indie play lists, offering him chances he was forbidden to take, and he took them, offered them straight back.
He wanted to go to Charlotte's apartment right now. Wanted to lay beside her and listen as the drops falling from the ceiling hit the bucket. He wanted to tell her that sorry that you're broken, I really am - but I'll spend every waking moment and more trying to put you back together.
But would he? No. He'd stay right where was was, curled up on the sofa, thinking about much scarier things than death, like not seeing Charlotte scream with euphoria after they've ran the length of the bridge, or not feeling Charlotte's heart drum against his back when she was upon it, or not feeling the delicate puffs of smoke that Charlotte so carefully blew onto his cheeks in the hours that were burrowed so deeply into the night.
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abyss ↣ joe sugg au
Fanfictionjoe sugg had never been good at math. in fact, it was seven years after he'd left school that he found out two halves make a whole definition of abyss; the regions of hell conceived of as a bottomless pit Trigger Warning: mentions of suicide/depress...
