five hours (bxb)

five hours: prologue

I never believed you could fall in love in five hours, until it happened to me.

trigger/content warning: (a) this is a boyxboy (b) mature themes (suicidal thoughts) Please avoid reading if those types of things easily upset you. Other than that, hope you enjoy :)

My name is Wyatt Abrams, not that it matters. None of it matters, because I am only living out the last few hours of my life.

I'm not terminally ill, no. I guess you would say I am suicidal. But I'm really not, I've never thought about harming myself. And my death is not my thoughts, no, it's my decision.

I have it all planned out, I'm going to jump off the central bridge at 10:12 pm on September 16th, today. If the height alone and the rocks below didn't cause my demise, I would refuse my body the oxygen it needed.

I guess the first question is 'why?'. Why would Wyatt Abrams want to kill himself?

Well, dear reader, that's just the thing. You know nothing about me, hell, no one does. Because everyone believes that Lynn hit her head, but she didn't. I killed Lynn. I am a murderer living in society.

And people can see it when they look at me, I know they can. At only eighteen, I have written the first line of my obituary.

Not to mention the fact that I ruined my family. Father's stutter has gotten to the extent he almost can't speak anymore, and Mother's hard grip on the brandy bottle will lead to her death shortly.

Soon, there will be none of us left. We will just be a tale of what happens when someone dies, or is killed rather.

I didn't really know what to do with my last five hours of life. In all honesty, I didn't deserve to live this long. It should have been me instead of Lynn, but it wasn't some disease, no, it was just me. I was the monster. And so, I would jump off the bridge.

The bridge had no significance to me, it was simply because I was a coward and I couldn't kill myself in the same way I had her.

I swirled the half wine and half club soda concoction around in the glass, watching it with hungry eyes. I poured it back into my throat, ignoring how casually I was drinking wine, it would be my last glass of wine. Tears pricked at my eyes and I remained still as a statue, my legs draped over the side of the sofa and my eyes focused ahead. I tried not to think of Lynn, but the memories wouldn't stop.

We were sitting on the rooftop, watching the fireworks. Mom and Dad were already sleeping, but Lynn had wanted to see them so badly. I knew from past experiences that to get the best view of fireworks you had to climb out of my bedroom window and trek up to where the chimney was. Then, you could see everything.

"This is amazing, Wyatt," Lynn said with a smile. I had one arm wrapped protectively around her and one around the chimney. The bricks were cutting into my arm, but it was necessary.

"I know. Look at that one!" I pointed to a green one exploding in the shape of a smiley face. She swatted away a piece of blonde hair that had fallen into her line of vision and awed at the sight.

"I wish everyday was the fourth of July," she whispered just loud enough for me to hear.

"I would get sick of seeing red, blue, and white all the time."

A few moments ticked by with no more brightly colour explosions lighting up the sky.

"Do you think they're done?" Lynn asked, peering around the dark sky.

"Probably. Let's head back inside." I stood up, using the chimney to support myself. She took my hand and used it to pull herself up. Her hand felt so small in mine. I started to side-step down the roof, holding on tightly to Lynn's hand.

"Don't let go of my hand, okay Lynn?"

"Yes, Wyatt," she replied sweetly.

"Are you holding my hand tightly?"

"Yes, Wyatt." I could tell she was getting annoyed with me, but I didn't care. I clutched her hand as hard as I could and walked carefully back down to the window, looking behind me to make sure she was following okay.

Suddenly, the sky was illuminated again and there was a loud noise.

"Wyatt, look!" Lynn pulled her hand from mine to point at the new firework, that was when she lost her footing.

"Lynn!" I tried to grab her as she slipped, but she fell off the roof so fast that if I had blinked it would have been like she was never there at all. I heard the sound of her fragile body hitting the ground and I felt the need to throw up.

"Lynn!" I shouted again. There was no response.

That was how I murdered my sister. I tried to reason with myself, saying that the chances were one in a million. But it didn't help. It was me, I killed her.

And maybe the guilt would have been more bearable if I had told the truth, but I never did. I said that Lynn fell off the climber in the backyard. I lied to save face. And now the vision of my dead sister haunted me at night.

I climbed off the sofa and peeled the curtains apart, the sun still in the sky. There were people bustling about outside my apartment, living their lives.

No one would notice my death. They would still go to work the next day, still get their afternoon coffee; I wouldn't make any difference.

I pulled on my shoes, deciding that I would go out and enjoy the last few hours of my life instead of wallowing in self pity.

I opened the door to the apartment and slammed it behind me. I walked towards the elevator and hit the button. A few seconds later it dinged and the doors flew open.

When I stepped in, the first thing I noticed was the boy standing in the corner. He was from a floor up, I had only seem him a few times. He had dark hair that was short and curly, and I had seen him sporting a letterman jacket. He looked like a typical jock, I never paid him much attention.

"Hi." He smiled and gave me a small wave, I nodded in response. I was not in the mood for social conventions.

He had already pressed the button to the ground, so I just hit the 'close doors' button and leaned into the wall.

The boy was tapping out some rhythm to music that wasn't playing, and it was starting to slowly get on my nerves.

I just wanted out of here.

I wanted to see Lynn.

Then the elevator stopped abruptly, causing me to fall into another wall of the elevator, and the boy looked around curiously.

It was stuck.

*a/n so this has been milling around in my mind for some time. It will have five parts, one for each hour (maybe an epilogue too).

I will get around to it in between writing Blaze (becaus sometimes I get bored).

Dedicated to @connerie because she gave me the idea for Lynn's rewritten death. I love you bro.

My prologues are always short. That's just how they are.

This is a boyxboy, sorry it doesn't say it in the title but it made it look tacky.