Jamilton Oneshots :)

libet's all joyful camaraderie [Jamilton]

he could barely remember anymore, what it felt like to have someone in his arms again. was he one to spiral down to the edges of the deep inky pool that is his memories, mixed with desire? the static in his mind grows ever louder, with that delightful jazz falling deeper still into the static as the music reaches into itself, rips out its soul, and nothing is left but a stuttering staccato as the climax ensues, seemingly anticlimactic as he disassociates more from the man in the mirror, supposedly his reflection? alexander told him so. he does not know who the face is staring at, but he's certain it isn't him.

who was alexander again? a flash of his memories swim past him, seemingly untouched,he could not reach into his mind's view, could not stop the jazz from stuttering out, only for his mind to pull out another half assed dream of better sunsets and lies painted into heaven's golden-like honey canvas. the man in the mirror stared back at him, and he resolves to smashing the face, unaware and unable to see that it is only his reflection, the static and ambience in his ears increasing, only the faintest sound of something relevant to a melody playing.

he cries and mourns for the loss of something, what does it matter how his heart breaks? a glimpse into his past from the mind's eye seems painful now, his once brilliant mind, or so he's told, now reduced to nothing but a static void of nothingness and the loneliness wraps him up in such a binding coil that he can't stand to try to remember, that surrendering to despair is a better idea.

he does not remember much anymore. the painful denial he's had is unravelling, now only faded to a soft resignation and the deepest depths of what he used to be hits him. a soulless shell, that's who he is. he remembers next to nothing, basic human functions do not make sense, and what's left in the wake of his unravelling resignation is held on tightly, the last of his memories, of someone , of some semblance from what was a past life slowly fading into nothingness, like the crackling and ambient noises playing now. he's aware he does not have many days left, and sublime beyond loss is all he feels, the fading hope only ever present in abruptly cut off segments, like childishly fresh eyes and his heart breaks, almost like a aching cavern without lucidity.

memory, like liberty, is a fragile thing, for more than it's worth.  he feels a delay, one that feels so natural, and he remembers other glimpses of what once was. almost like drifting time replaced into his eyes, the flashes are quick and fast, like a losing battle raging on, the fight against time a fruitless one. all that follows is true, and yet, he could not fathom the state of his mind.

in the last moments of pure recall, the temporary bliss feels like he's recovering from this inky,staticky pain of a wormhole, but, his hopes are crushed, and the result shows. like a sudden time regression into into isolation, a confusion so thick you forget forgetting, not unlike a last hurrah, he feels a brutal bliss beyond the empty defeat.

life does not wait for anyone, and the way ahead seems futile, and much more lonely than any other path he has trodden upon in his lifetime. but, a path is a path nonetheless, and he does not have much left to care for. his memory surprises him, and he recalls one last scene clearly, the rest having faded into the nothingness like ink splattered across tar. 

a late afternoon drifting, he has someone wrapped in his embrace, and although he does not recognise the scene, nor the person he is holding, he feels warm. loved. this isn't the first time he felt like this, he's sure, but this may as well be the last time. It's just a burning memory, but burning despair does ache, and he feels it is time. he wraps himself up, in this last memory of his sanity, and he laughs, a raspy laughter, and something wet trails down his face, one last time. he's afraid, but you're never really ready for these kind of things, and as he steps into the hidden sea buried deep, he hears someone call out his name.

"Thomas!"

and just like that, one last word flicks into his brain. alexander. it's a name. he does not have time to process it as he knows, the long decline is over, and his place in the world fades away naturally, and he's lost to the last melody of never ending love.

what an all joyful camaraderie life has been, hasn't it?

———
I'm leaving it here. i was crying a lot while writing this, and i think it is up to you how you want to interpret this story :)

cheers. ily.

[835 words]