One Shots

When We Were Alive (PG-13)

                  We Were Dying Inside

      We lived outside the city in a small area of houses and green fields that bordered the nearby motorway. And we'd sit on the top of the hill and watch the cars hitting the fast lanes heading for destinations we could only dream of.

        We lived outside the city, and it was nice I guess. Both of us just chilling outside during the bleak November days where it was all cloud and occasional rain. We never really had adventures to the exact definition, but I called them that nonetheless.

       He was cool and I always told him I was cooler. It was funny because he never challenged it and I would always laugh and shake my head and he'd smile and nod his.

       Yeah, we lived outside the city and there wasn't much to do but walk and run and soar with our arms out and the wind ruffling our thin, worn out jackets. I'd jump on his back and we'd crash to the ground in a heap of gangly legs and light-fingered touches, feeling out each others pain.

        Sometimes we'd lay there for hours, watching the clouds and feeling the rain and learning to understand each other that little bit more through the silence of it all. And as the wind chilled our skin, turning our faces bright red, we'd stay still and let it chill us so much so that the cold began to feel warm.

      But I couldn't breathe for a while after, you know? I'd take a breath but it wouldn't reach my lungs and I'd be there alone on the hill thinking about him and the cars in the fast lanes going destinations we could never, ever dream of.

      'Cause things began to change the day he lay down in the graveyard and I lay beside him, reaching out to touch him but he was nothing but stone now. And I'd dig my fingers into the engravings and try to understand him that little bit more through the silence we couldn't break.

       But understanding him became harder the more I remembered our days on the hill and the rain on our skin and his hands on my face as he wiped it all away. His fingertips were so cold, like he was frozen from the inside, out.

       We lived outside the city and I kept reminding myself of those times when he would smile so wide that my whole body would tingle and shiver, just the same as coming up after a pill, heavy music, thumping, just trying to forget.

       I'm sorry.

       And it'd be nice if we could stop meeting in the graveyard and go back to the days we'd spend on the hill where the air was light and fresh instead of dark and heavy. It'd be nice if we could just break the silence.

       God, we lived outside the city in a small area of houses and fields that bordered the motorway. And I fucking miss you, miss you, miss you. Cause, fuck, we lived outside the city and it was quiet and it was ours.

        But the city drew him in and begged him to stay and there he'll lay for hours without end and he's cold like stone. And I was cold to the bone but it chilled me so much so that it was starting to feel warm.

        I lived outside the city and I'd lay on the top of the hill we used to share, watching the cars in the fast lanes drifting by me without a care.

       It was snowing.

       Everything was numb. And I swear as I closed my eyes, I felt him laying beside me just like he used to be and I tried that little bit harder to understand why he let himself turn to stone as he lay on his own, surrounded by snow, catching his breath in the back of his throat and breathing it all out real slow.

       He died outside the city in a small area of houses and white fields and I always told him he was cool and I'd say I was cooler but it was only a joke.

       We died outside the city, alone and three weeks apart. Down to the very last beat of my heart, there was nothing but the silence. And in that moment, I think I finally began to understand him.

A/N: It's a short one but I think it suits being short. I know some of you might not get it, I guess it is super vague as a one shot but I hope you get the main concept. Also I just got back from spending 9 days with Clay (aka Susurrations), and the level of energy around me went from a 10 to a 2.5 basically. So somehow this one shot was created during my coach journey back and idk what it is about being on a coach and listening to music but it makes me feel proper sad in the best kind of way...? The best kind of way for a writer that likes to write about sadness, anyway.