Demri Parrott passed away in October of 1996, one of the worst things to ever happen to Layne Staley.
They seemed happy in most of the photos taken of them back when they were together.
But why DID Layne break it off with her when they were engaged...
I lied. Lol. I'm still going to be updating this 'controversial' fanfic.
I'm a little rusty in the writing department. Just a warning 🤪
Oh, and here's a ~lovely~ photo of the one and only, Demri Parrott. R.I.P
(Seriously though. I love this photo 😍)
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The Past, September of 1996
His head was hung low as he slowly made his way through the hospital hallways. It was dead silent within these white walls, aside from the beeps that echoed from patients' heart monitors as he'd pass their rooms.
Those big, blue eyes stayed focused on the tiled floor, the dull tapping of his shoes ringing in his ears. It seemed to keep him calm—just focusing on the floor, watching his foot steps. And when he closed his eyes, he kept envisioning that, instead of walking down a hospital hall, he was walking down the street towards Demri's old apartment. He was walking there to simply just hang out, crack jokes, possibly even create art together like they used to.
Their relationship seemed to have calmed ever since they separated. It hurt Layne's heart that they had to break up just to develop SOME sort of connection again. It was still unhealthy, of course, but at least this way they weren't bringing one another down anymore.
Layne stopped in his tracks when he finally reached her room. Before opening the door, he breathed in a deep breath and braced himself. Still, his eyes gleamed with tears as soon as he entered it and looked at her.
No one was there. He noticed that there were new gifts placed on her window sill. Her parents and old friends usually came during the morning or late afternoon to visit. Usually he didn't mind going in there with them, but this time around he came over a little later. He wanted to see her alone...
A shaky, gloved hand quietly pulled a seat up next to Demri's bed. He had to force himself to look at her.
She was still beautiful despite how sick she was. Her hair seemed to have the life that it always had. It was thick and dark and was elegantly draped over her thin shoulders. She would've looked relatively normal if it wasn't for the IVs attached to her and nasal cannula placed in her nostrils.
Gently, he slid over to hold her hand. A small smile grew on his face when those deep brown eyes finally opened.
"Layne," she slurred out, her voice quiet and weak.
Nothing was said for a moment.
He had to look away again. His heart sunk in his chest when he heard the breathing machine pump. The noise wheezed out as she took slow, shallow breaths.
