Euthanasia (Kellic)

42: The Habit

Every Slow And Quiet Car Ride I Spent Drinking In The Backseat. Every Stupid Melody To Every Stupid Song. And Every Stupid Word That Everybody's Hanging On.

And for once, everything felt alright, and in fact too alright to the extent that I even began to feel like something was wrong because this never ending silence had all become too much with the ringing in my ears and Vic, asleep beside me in bed.

It was something like four in the morning, and I wished it wasn't.

I wished it was any other time at all, other than four in the fucking morning, because it wasn't early enough to quite justify falling back to sleep like it was nothing and still getting up at a decent time, and it was too early to get up and face the horrors of today, leaving me vaguely content in the decision of lying back down beside Vic and pretending.

Pretending like my mind wasn't spinning a thousand miles a minute and that even the simple brush of skin between us wasn't driving me crazy, but it was, because we were, we were almost on fire. I felt on fire; alight, all so alive, too alive and my head was thudding with the ringing of my ears in an unexpected silence and my heart leaping too far from my chest.

I brought my gaze up to the ceiling, taking myself away; anywhere but here, and anywhere but the situation I was in, because although everything looked fine on the outside, it felt as if my head was just about to roll right off my shoulders, because perhaps it was the sleep deprivation - I didn't know, but whatever it was, certainly, something right now, something was just off in the dip in the mattress between us and the breath held by the elephant in the room.

Because I'd fucked up again, and although he didn't know it yet, my subconscious had tricked the rest of me into believing that the miniscule gap between us was a problem and no fault but my own. I had such a masochistic mind like that, and really at times, I hated nothing more, nothing more than my mind, myself.

Hating myself was routine and in the dark of my bedroom and the silence that fell over it at four in the morning, and some routines, and some habits, bad habits were just far too easy to slip back into, so much that perhaps I didn't even blame myself for the damage I'd done - the lot of it.

Because if habits were to slip back into, there'd been a whole landslide here, and even I wasn't proud enough to deny such a thing.

I fell further away from him, my whole body stinging as I sighed aloud, stirring the boy beside me in a manner that I desired least, yet deserved the most, perhaps more than anything, because with the mess I’d made, no amount of justice could set this right.

And the proof of that was in black and white- well, red and white; stood out like a beacon upon my arm, and an old friend discarded in the bathroom in regret.

"Kellin..." He drew my name from his lips, his body moving next to mine in the sheets, his eyes falling upon mine, and then my arm, and the secrets it held in raw, bleeding flesh - all too obvious now, of course, and all telling nothing but the truth, dripping against my sheets, accompanied by an extended silence and hope deprived gazes. "You didn't.... fuck.... I'm sorry; it's my fault, isn't it? I'm so sorry."

It was heart-breaking at how quick Vic was to blame himself when even for once he'd really do absolutely nothing wrong, and that set my heart uneven in my chest as I met his eyes with nothing but a badly executed apologetic glance.

"It's not your fault." I choked out, my eyes almost fixated upon the damage I'd done, marvelling at how, yet again, I'd managed to fuck up for what was the millionth time. "I'm a fuck up - I do this all too much, and this is nothing but my own fault." I promised him the truth, which was all it was, having sinned far too much already to even let the prospect of lying slip my mind, let alone to want to.