He died that night, just about 30 minutes after I left. The blood loss was what really did him in.
I went home and didn't leave our house for three days. I barely ate anything. Gabby stopped by daily and forced me to eat lunch. I was thin before but I could see my ribs in my skin. I looked even sicker. The worst thing was that I couldn't bring myself to cry. I was simply too sad. I wore his clothes and every night slept while cuddling one of his jackets. I only left the house because of his funeral.
I had hardly spoken over those three days my voice felt numb.
I went into the church and all his family looked at me. Few of them liked me, most of the people were in denial of having a not straight son.
They must blame me for his death, I know I blame myself. Maybe I could have saved him...
The pastor held a service for him, and several people went up and talked about his younger life. Their words barely reached my ears. I was only focusing on the time we had together. It ended quickly, yet I stayed silent.
I went up to the front where his ashes where. He was in a gold tin, surrounded by flowers on the white altar.
I didn't know what to say. I suddenly felt like everyone was watching me, so I did the only thing I could do. All the tears I'd held back for three days, slipped out of me. I dipped my head low, trying not to look as bad.
"Ryder... I miss you." I whispered, disappearing into my own world, ignoring all the hateful glares of his family members.
I felt a hand on my right shoulder and looked up. I'd recognise that blue hair anywhere.
"Legion... he's gone... it doesn't feel real."
"I know..." he wasn't in tears, but I could feel the sadness in his voice.
"You know... back when he was alive, he made me promise to go get drunk when he died, out of memory. I said I would, I honestly was kidding, but it feels kind of right... would you join me?" He said, putting on a slight smile, despite the obvious hurt in his eyes.
"Sure... not yet though. I need some time..." I said, gazing out the window at the sunlight.
"Of course. Take your time" he said.
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The scars on my neck...
RomanceIn the end, what hurt me the most wasn't his hands or body... [By the way: this story contains/references 11 things I consider mature content Please read carefully]