Let me go. || A Mandela Catalogue Inspired Story

Chapter One: Those Memories

"Hey honey, can you grab that for me?".

"Yes darling, I can.".

"God, Zeke, I love you so much.".

"I love you too Matt, so much.".

His voice still rang in Zeke's ears, he had truly missed Matt. After the... Incident, Zeke couldn't help himself but close himself in, and have no connection to the outside world. He had sat the picture frame of him and Matt back down on the bedside table. Matt's hazel eyes, oh how Zeke used to get lost in those eyes. And his silky, wavy blonde hair was perfect for Zeke. Zeke had smiled before he decided to get up. His feet dragging after him. Walking in his house was so much for him now. He had grown weak; he was skin and bones. His eyes had terrible bags under them, his skin looking as pale as a ghost. The only thing that made him look "alive" was his green eyes. Those bright, emerald green eyes he had. Mixed with his matt-black fluffy hair, he looked somewhat human.

He had decided on some food, he didn't have much. It was either dry cereal or canned soup. He didn't want soup again, so he grabbed the cereal box, which the label had been scribbled off of. Zeke had a bad habit of scribbling off labels and tearing them off. He remembered when he cooked for Matt, and he would grab the label-less cans and boxes and still make the best tasting food. Matt would love to poke fun about it to Zeke, and he knew that Zeke would get pouty at the comments but would still turn back at Matt with a smile. Ezekiel missed those days with Matt, he wished those days could come back. But after four years, he gave up on wishing...

He poured the dry cereal into a plastic cup. Zeke was cheap, and he knew this. He lived off of his father's ID and his small freelancer job. He was just an artist, his works didn't pay much. He went to the box of beer and got one, he walked over to his couch and sat down. He slowly picked at the cereal and ate them, slowly one by one. He was staring into the blank television screen, nothing was even playing. Just his lifeless self in the reflection of a black, blank screen. He grabbed the beer bottle off the ground, and took a sip. The luke-warm beer hit his throat, he put the bottle back on the ground, wiping his mouth off with his sleeve. He continued to slowly drink the beer-cereal combo, it wasn't a new taste to him. It wasn't even good, he ate it to fill his hunger.

He had finished the beer-cereal combo, he hated the after-taste. He decided to get up, leaving the plastic cup and beer bottle there. Another bad habit of his, not picking up after himself. Once Matt had died, Zeke couldn't clean anymore. Matt was one of the reasons he kept their apartment clean, Zeke was the housewife, you could say. And he didn't complain, he was happy to have a clean house for Matt to come home to after every day of work. But then, that first week once he was gone. Zeke lost it, clothes littered his bedroom, bathroom, and living room. Beer bottles, whiskey bottles, glass shards littering everywhere in his house. Constant garbage bags in his kitchen, he couldn't keep it clean, he couldn't keep himself clean.

He had somehow aimlessly walked to the bathroom, now in front of the shattered bathroom mirror. A fist-like shape was in the middle of the mirror, Zeke's reflection going into the multiple cracks and making his face more distorted.

"Am I the Alternate?".

The mirror shattered at his words, he took a step back. His chest getting heavier, his head getting lighter. He looked at himself in the mirror, his face had become more distorted than before, his neck had itched, he felt the door hit his back. He quickly ran to his bedroom, the image of his boyfriend on the bed, his neck torn off from his body. The blonde hair quickly dyed a strawberry-blonde, limbs being ripped off at the sight. The alternate turned around to look at Ezekiel.

"Well, well, well, it seems you've finally come to the party. Ezekiel".

Zeke froze in fear, the alternate was speaking to him, it knew his full name. He finally stepped back, and with silent tears running down his face, he ran to his door. Frantically unlocking it, running out of his apartment and into the ground. It seemed like he couldn't breathe, he was panicking. He felt tired, he was weak, and getting weaker. He felt his eyes shut on him, then it was that. He had passed out...