Big Book Of Smornby One Shots

Colors (S)

TW: Implied/Referenced Suicide, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, References to Depression

Song: Colors by Hasley

Alex lay there looking through pictures from the last few years. He was so happy; a wide smile, face glowing, eyes bright. He was so happy. Alex sighed, Ross couldn't be happy anymore. He didn't even make it to the day he was meant to be 28. The happiness wasn't exactly real though, it was artificially induced. Those pills that could drain him one day and leave him blue.

When they met, Ross wasn't like that. He was a youthful guy, potential ahead of him. He laughed without it being forced and smiled all the time. Him and Alex would share stolen kisses away from their colleagues at any chance, giggling like schoolgirls and getting more daring every time. They would go on random getaways together around the country, discovering new places. They were free.

One year everything changed. Ross snapped and never returned. He stormed out of the flat he shared with Alex and didn't come back for a few weeks. When he did his hair had started to grey prematurely, his dreams had become nightmares and his face had drained of any colour. Alex didn't connect the long nights out, the cold blue hands, the lack of money. It wasn't until Ross' stash was found in his bag. From there, Alex found the lighters in his drawer and the different bottles of pills all promising to make him happy again. After that they screamed the whole night. Alex was disappointed. Ross was uncaring.

It was another few weeks before Ross came back, apologetic and "promising to get better". Yet again, Alex ate up the lies and trusted Ross. Aft first it was all ok. They were back to random dates and romantic evenings together, just them. But the cycle started again. More bottles, more nights out, less money.

He was torn and damaged but Alex still saw him as a masterpiece, an addiction in the same way Ross had the pills. Alex couldn't stay away and kept giving him chance after chance, but there were just more lies. They acted like nothing was wrong, they still slept as close as they always had and they still went to dinner every Thursday after work. It was just quieter. The space between them grew until they were just two bodies interacting mindlessly with each other.

Ross knew this and it killed him inside but he couldn't stop. The pills and the smoking and the drink was always calling him. He couldn't escape the nightmare he found himself in every day and every night. It was his own fault. He'd started the addiction and he was to blame. All Ross wanted was for Alex to be happy, so he decided to let him.

Ross called the familiar number in his phone, arranging a meeting point and time. They met at the garage, exchanged bottles for money and went their separate ways. Ross got back to his & Alex's apartment. Alex was out for the night and wouldn't be back until early morning. As he wrote, his hands shook from the anxiety.

"Dear Smith,

I love you, I really do, though it may not seem like it. I cherish every moment we share. When I'm with you I feel so,etching that can't be described. I feel whole and holy.

But I'm not okay. I can't get help because I'm that far gone. I love you so much, but you need to find someone else and move on and forget me. Forget me and be happy without me. I'm letting you be free and I'm letting myself be free, you may see this as completely selfish but I need you to understand.

All the love in the world,
Ross."

The following morning Alex arrived home to a silence. Assuming Ross was aleep, he started to make two cups of tea to surprise his boyfriend and apologise for staying out so late. He walked up the stairs and saw the bed was made, Ross never made the bed. Alex checked the other room, Ross was probably too drugged up to know what bed was his own. That too was empty. Alex checked the bathroom next and what he saw froze him solid. Blue hands wrapped around an envelope, a slumbed body against the shower, a grey face.

At first he saw red. He was so angry at himself and Ross. He was angry at himself because couldn't see the signs. He was angry at Ross for just giving up and leaving him.

Then he saw blue. He was crying over the body, screaming over and over. Trying to get some sort of response.

It never came.

His emotions jumbled into a purple mess and he couldn't stop shaking Ross' body. With trembling hands, Alex called the ambulance. Nothing felt real anymore. He was unresponsive when they told him the news. He was unresponsive when his friends came round to ask him how he was doing. He was numb to any sort of emotion.

The next few months were spent like this. At work he was silent and everyone was worried. His boss told him he could have time off when he needed to but Alex just exploded in a fit of rage saying that he was fine. No one believed him, but no one dared to ask him again out of fear that he'd scream at them. Alex hadn't just lost his boyfriend; he'd lost his best friend. Their home was empty and cold, Alex had packed up everything but the bare essentials because it was just too hard to look at anything. Their pictures were taken down, their mementos from holidays were stored away, the CDs they listened to were in a box with the stereo. The emptiness reflected how Alex felt on the inside.

He knew he would be blue forever.

Credit to Miilkteeth on Ao3