It was the second week with no Wade, and I must say it had been horrific. Of course, he would still come by my house and we would still do stuff but even then I'd tried to pull myself away and think. I'd always do my homework if he came, sometimes I'd even make up some when I had none, just to distract myself.
Also, I must confess that it was really boring without him around. I had to cast myself away though, for the greater good. At least until I had stuff figured out.
***
(He hates us)
[He hates Wade, he doesn't know about us.]
(Well, he should, if he 's gonna fuck Wade, he's gonna fuck us too so...)
"You two shut up!" Wade ordered and the boxes went silent. "I'm tryna think..."
Yes, he did. He tried to think. And things didn't make sense, and that drove Wade crazy.
[Crazy-er]
Crazier... It drove him crazier, because Peter seemed to enjoy his company. And not only that, he didn't stop him when he was practically kissing him forcefully.
So why ignore him now? This made no sense. No. No sense at all. And it made Wade cry. He often did. Almost everything made him cry. His pitiful existence was a good reason. But now it wasn't just that, it was something else. He had been stupid enough to think that once, just once, someone might love him for who he is. But of course, that was impossible, because even the boxes told him that they would leave if they could. And Wade thought they were right. Besides being his own creations, the loud expression of his doubts, they were right. Wade wasn't easy to love. He was, after all, batshit crazy, and his personality was actually quite annoying. He knew that because the boxes were annoying, and they're the embodiment of his thoughts, so... Yeah...
(Oh, come on Wade, don't cry!)
[Yes, you're gonna get wrinkles. We don't want wrinkles. We need to be hot for Peter. Even if he doesn't love us.]
(But do we love him? Like - real, sappy, missionary-position love?)
[It's been two years. Of course we love him. Well, Wade loves him]
(Not only Wade. I think I love him too. I mean he's so dreamy... And that butt, oh, what I'd...)
"Will you shurrup...?!" the blonde said through uneven gasps. "He's never gonna love me. I get it..."
His face was distorted from the lousy attempts not to scream. He went to his bedroom, grabbed a pillow and released all the shouted sobs that he had held back until now.
Then quiet.
He wanted to go to the bathroom and cut his wrist. Vertically. He wanted to die. But thank God he was sort of immortal, with this stupid healing factor. He looked in the wardrobe and searched through the folds of his latex costume. He found a small Glock gun with a full cartridge, so he took it and, without a moment's hesitation, he fired a round straight through his brain.
***
Days later, after still not talking to Peter, he was making some fried salmon, and he was just preparing to sit down and enjoy the meal, when he felt it.
The walls crumbled once, some bottles fell off their shelves, the lights flickered and Wade felt the ground moving underneath his feet.
Peter... he thought as he tried to pick up the remote control and switch to the closest news channel.
As the news anchor talked lively about the 5.7 rated earthquake that was happening just then, the blonde fished his phone from his pocket and called the boy. No answer. He called again. Line busy. Dammit... The thing had been going on for almost a minute now, it was becoming alarming.
