Waiting For The Death Blow

10.

The echo of a dripping tap echoed through the kitchen. All of the lights were turned on, the dinner table was set. And everything seemed still...just so still.

Robert stood by the sink, staring absentmindedly, into the dark, outside of the kitchen window. He was deep in thought. He could hear the flick of a newspaper page turning, followed by a knock. Then, Simon's voice. "Oi, Rob, Mary's here."

Robert turned around, stiffly and pondered to the door. Mary had agreed to have dinner before she took her things. Neither of them wanted a cold distance between them. As uncomfortable as it may of been, Robert still wanted her in his life. He had decided that it would ache too much without her.

Robert didn't say anything to her when he opened the door, only stared, half-smiling emptily. Simon gave the same smile from the couch as she slipped in.

"That's a first. There's no music playing." Mary said, as if to break the silence. She was right, they were standing in the most uninviting quiet. "Record player broken again?" She asked Robert as she removed her coat and shoes, placing them by the door messily. "No." Robert replied, unable to say anymore to her.

Simon was blindingly aware that Robert hadn't been feeling his best all day and decided that he should play host tonight. "Drink, Mary?" He asked as he stood up. He felt almost stupid asking that, this house still belonged to her, until she left later on anyway.

"Rosé." Mary smiled, waving Simon off to the kitchen. She then pulled out a dining table chair and sat down, resting her palm against her face as she looked at Robert, standing in the middle of the room, just looking back to her. She noticed how, even though he wasn't wearing any makeup, his eyelids were dark and heavy looking. His expression, down to the way he held his posture just blatantly gave away how very exhausted he was.

He didn't say anything, neither did she. She knew that Robert wasn't the same now...and the sad truth was that she knew that nothing she could say would bring the bright blue back to his eyes.

Simon came back in with three drinks. Mary watched as he subtlety passed two white pills to Robert, along with a can of beer. Robert drank accordingly before sitting down at the table. It left Mary wondering what had happened to Robert to leave him so fragile. Yet, she knew delving into the problem wasn't her job anymore...it was Simon's and Simon seemed to be doing alot better job at  caring for him than she ever did. Yet, she didn't envy him, because she knew that the man she loved was in better hands now.
-
After dinner, the boys helped Mary gather her clothes and trinkets, and put them into bags. Robert was more than reluctant, mainly indulging in his own heart wrench. There was something about watching his house be stripped bare of her things that brought bile to his mouth. He was almost angry at her. Angry that she wasn't begging to stay. Angry that he couldn't of done more to make her want to stay...

Simon offered to help take Mary's things to her car with her. He was playing the good samaritan for Robert's sake. Robert suspected so anyway, as he watched them out of the window. He looked to them both as they made light conversation in the rain. They both meant more than life to him. Yet, he knew neither of them could be the one to save him.

Something felt wrong deep inside of him, like an apple with a rotten core. He knew he was broken. Even with Simon back, nothing could erase the aching memories of the party. Simon had blamed himself for that night. Maybe if he had worked up the courage to speak to Robert, Steven wouldn't have thought twice. But Robert blamed himself, no matter how many times Simon had told him it's not your fault.

He watched Mary's car drive off into the dark and Simon rush back in, into the warmth.

"That was a nice evening." Was the first thing he said as he closed the door behind him. "Was it?" Robert uttered as he slowly made his way up the stairs. "Can you put a bath on for me?" Simon called out. "Yes, dear!" Robert replied in mockery. He scoffed, shaking his head at how much they acted like a married couple. But then he came to the realisation that they were nothing short of being a couple. They lived in the same house, slept in the same bed, ate the same food, shared eachothers saliva...

Robert shivered at the thought.

Upstairs he slipped into a pair of pyjamas, finally able to relax more now that Mary was gone. Although it hurt so deeply to see a love since childhood die, her presence wasn't comforting anymore. Only stale. Simon was like new flowers Robert had replaced after her petals had died.
-
The bath was now running, filling the bathroom with comforting warmth. Robert sat on the closed lid of the toilet, reminiscing about music. In his mind his career as a musician had come to a tragic halt. Definitely for the time being, if not forever. Something about that made him sigh in defeat. His work felt wasted. Maybe he didn't care, Maybe it didn't even matter. He didn't know what mattered anymore.

"Nothing matters." He whispered to himself as he got up to stare into the mirror. "Nothing matters." He muttered again as the reflection of decrepit-looking face and unkempt hair gazed back at him. "It doesn't fucking matter!" He choked, unexpectedly begining to sob. His heart banged in his chest with a sudden swirl of rage and sorrow as if his locked up emotions had finally seeped through the cracks.

Without a second thought, he swung open the mirror cupboard and dug around among the array of pill boxes, bandaids and medicine until he pulled out his painkillers. They hadn't been prescribed by the doctor, but Simon said it didn't matter. Robert had been taking two before every meal, convinced they could soothe his bitter moods.

But right now, however, two wouldn't  be enough for him. He began to quiver, sobbing harder as his fingers struggled to open up the box. Eventually he popped each pill, gathering them in his palm. He didn't know what had possessed this irrational idea, yet an impulse, a plea for the pain to end told him he had to.

He placed the pills on his tongue, shakily turned on the tap, gulping from the in sink. He swallowed with slight difficulty, breathing erratically as tears continued to burn his eyes. He slumped down by the bathtub alone as whimpering cries escaped his throat. "It doesn't matter..." he choked out, shutting his eyes in hope of something better.
-
-
Simon sighed in contemplation as he finished washing up the last plate. He wondered if he should leave Robert to do his own thing tonight and sleep on the couch. Maybe he needed space, Simon thought. He tutted to himself and made his way to the stairs.

He could hear water running and his eyes widened as he suddenly remembered his bath. He rushed upstairs, not giving a second thought to where Robert could be. However, as he turned the corner and through the bathroom doorway, his heart dropped, almost shattering in his chest.

The small room was filled completely with hot steam. But there was Robert... slumped and unconscious, sitting in overflowing bath water, on the floor.

First aid items scattered the floor out of the cupboard and Simon's stomach tightened in nervous nausea. He just knew what Robert had done. He rushed to his side, grabbing his shoulders, trying to shake him from his daze. But Robert was slipping. Simon watched his lover's eyes began to roll back, as his own eyes filled with tears. "No, no, Robert, lovely, stay with me! Hey, Robert, look at me!" He pleaded, hopelessly. But Robert's head had fallen to the side...Simon couldn't wake him up.

"Oh, Robert what have you done?" He sobbed, quietly as he rushed to his feet, staggering to find the nearest phone. He yanked the phone from the bedroom off and hook and desperately dialed 999 with uneasy hands.

"Hello, yes, I-I need an Ambulance immediately...My f-friend has overdosed..."

In that moment he knew that life just couldn't go on this way....

*END*