Fragments

3: Warm / BBS

trigger warning; suicide.

Jon didn't know how he felt.

His bed, once his favourite place, was now the place that caused him the most pain.

Which was mostly the reason why he lay there now.

Hurt washed over Jon's body in waves. From the tips of his toes to the top of his head, it was all he felt. One word resonated in his head, weaving in and out of his ears like a strong wind despite being in a room so still.

Why.

Two months ago, Jon's world had crashed down. Two months ago, Jon had been happy.

It had been so unexpected.

As soon as he had stepped through the door, Jon knew something was up. Everything just felt off.

The silence had unnerved him. Usually, there was sound. That of a radio; a tv.

Of Evan.

Without a second thought, Jon had headed up the stairs, muscle memory guiding him to the bedroom; quite possibly his favourite room in their apartment.

Evan had been sprawled atop the sheets, an empty pill bottle in hand, staring lifelessly toward the ceiling.

Shutting out the vision once again, Jon lit a cigarette, the smoky tendrils rising up into the air contorting into shapes that he had been trying to shut out. Shapes of a face he would never lay eyes on again.

After another drag of nicotine, something clicked. All he felt was calm. Blissful and bittersweet.

Rising, Jon slowly made his way to the bathroom, dropping the cigarette and taking in the sights of the apartment one last time. Photographs of happier times and places hung on the walls as if taunting him, reminding him of all he had lost. Long-dead roses drooped pitifully in a vase that Jon mentally refused to empty. Evan's headphones.

The floor of the bathroom was cold. Everything was cold.

But as Jonathan slumped on the floor with pills in his system and a smile on his face, he felt warm.