Hotel Ceiling [BoyxBoy]

||5||

My phone fumbles in my hand as I take a shaky hold on it. I cut it on exiting out of the message app to stare at the safari icon. My hand is shaky as I gasp for excessive breaths.

I can't calm down. How do I calm down?

I take a deep breath before I press my thumb down on the icon. It immediately opens up to the news report of them elaborating on finding my baby.

"Popular pop singer Daniel Mazel or nationally known as Danny was found locked within his vehicle submerged under Big Bear Lake located in Southern California. An email left to his manager disclosed his location, officials finding his vehicle located at the bottom of the lake. Danny was strapped inside."

I toss my phone scrambling back from it as I clamp my eyes shut. I curl up into a ball and cover my ears as to muffle the noise from the ongoing report.

Danny.

Daniel Mazel.

My baby.

My love.

My green eyes.

Dead.

I groggily reached for my blaring phone, picking it up, and bringing it to my ear once it's answered. "Hello?"

"Jason, did you see the news?" The voice was panicked. It was my close friend Vilde. We met through our shared job at the restaurant. She had known me since the start of Danny and my's relationship. Her voice was panicky. She was sniffling and the scratchiness of her tone led me to believe she was crying.

My heart rate had picked up at that moment. I sat up in my bed clutching the phone close to my ear. "Huh?"

"Jason, I'm so sorry."

"What are you sorry about? What's going on?"

Her voice was soft and there was strong hesitation present as she spoke, "He's dead babe. Danny is dead."

My face fell. I sat there frozen once the words fell from her lips.

What the hell was she talking about Danny is dead? This was some type of joke right? The news putting up fake news. They tried to kill off celebrities all the time. Surely this was one of those times.

"That's not funny Vilde."

"I'm not laughing, Jason. Look at the news. It's everywhere. He's gone. He drove his car into Big Bear Lake. He took his own li-"

I hung up. I stared at the phone screen for a long time. I think my phone was on and off ringing, but not before long I had muted notifications. My head started spinning heavily. I felt like I was going to be sick. I needed to go somewhere. I didn't want to be found. I was already tired of the calls and messages. I just needed to go.

I stumbled out of my bed, racing to my closet. I dug out my emptied duffle bag and tossed it onto my bed. I started tugging out clothes out of my drawers, shoving whatever I could into the bag. My mind was on autopilot. All I could think about was getting the fuck out. I was suffocating. I had to go.

I pulled a sweatshirt over my head, swiped my phone off my bed, and stuffed my feet into my boots. Somehow the bag was hanging off of my shoulder and I was tugging 3 liquor bottles off of my countertops. I left my dingy apartment, flipping the lock shut with my key before I shoved myself into my car. I sat there for long time, something not willing me to move. My head was swirling as I tried to make sense of it all. I hadn't even checked the news. If I looked, what would I see? How did they find him? Why did he do it? When did he do it? Why?