gasoline | l.s

all my heroes died

the days that followed the quick meeting on my front door were the most confusing days of my life. i can clearly remember, after reading louis' letter, running to his house without even caring about the pyjamas i was wearing; i remember the asphalt burning my bare feet and i remember feeling like my soul was being pulled from my body when i saw a police car parking right in front of the beautiful garden in front of his house.

the neighbours gossiped about the scene, watching everything with caution, faking unbelief and wailing about the fact. their voices echoing in my head in a way almost scary. their words hit me diffusely, incoherently... only fragments of superficial and disconnected sentences.

a police officer walked out of the front door holding a clipboard against his side, i ran to him, hoping to hear an answer from him. or, what i really wanted, hoping he wouldn't confirm what i imagined happened. "where is he?" my voice sounded distant and unfamiliar in my own ears.

"where is who, kid?" the officer's eyes scanned me from head to toe, his mouth twisting in disapproval.

"the boy. the boy who lives here. his name is louis. where is he?" i gripped the front of his uniform in distress.

"hey, control yourself, lad." he pushed my hands away from his clothes. "you know what? i don't need to give you any information, move away. i need to isolate the area."

but i didn't move away. contrary to what he expected me to do, i walked around him and ran as fast as my legs allowed me to the house entrance. i slid through the hallway and stopped at the living room.

all gazes lifted at me, but my eyes remained glued to the skinny figure stretched over the rug. he still wore the same clothes he had come to my house with, his feathery hair was sprawled across the carpet like the rest of his limbs. blood pooling around his head and near his right hand a revolver layed.

his shiny blue eyes didn't open with my arrival, his mouth didn't tremble with a smile. his high-pitched voice didn't call my name or said one of those things which made me wonder. i never had the chance to see the sassy glow inside his ocean eyes.

after that, only the nothing. only the empty.

there wasn't anything to do, he left before i could tell him how i felt. before i could ask, for the last time, to kiss and hug him.

"what is this boy doing here?" i hear his dad's voice, loud and imposing, staring at the cops. to look at troy was the same as look at him, their similarities were unquestionable.

mrs. tomlinson was crying sitting on the sofa, her shoulders shaking violently and her whining bounced off each of the turquoise walls.

i wanted to throw up.

"c'mon boy, get out of here!" the same officer as before, grabbed me by my shirt dragging me to the front door.

taking me away from louis, taking me away from what was left of him.

the headline 'the prodigy boy's suicide' spread out as quickly as fire on gunpowder.

i didn't want to see anyone, and i deeply ignored my mom's attempts to have any conversation with me.

no, i couldn't subject myself to listening to anyone trying to comfort me. they didn't know him like i did, they didn't see her true self. that louis was completely mine, and i didn't intend to share him with anyone else. his words, his laughter, his kiss... no one would ever understand, no one ever would know why, except me.

from the secret pocket of one of my favorite jackets, i pulled the envelope that had fallen from his pocket on our last day together. the handwriting on the outside was delicate and there my name seemed the most beautiful in the world. i pulled out the letter from the envelope, full of emotions he never told me; full of truths he never said.