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A kiss goodbye, liquid joy in my veins. You look up at me with a blissful smile, your eyes glowing golden.
Your warm hand put lovingly to my cheek, and although the cool winter evening so far would not yet let anything of the coming spring be known, in this infinitely sweet moment the world seemed to blossom.
"I love you," whispered against my lips, making me melt in your arms.
"I love you more," I grinned, knowing full well that this was a battle that could be fought to a shared death, every day anew, and yet have an amicable draw at the end.
My heart, you smiled, more beautiful, brighter than the moon, which peeked out high above, majestically behind the treetops, so picture-perfect and infinitely devoted that even the stars felt their beauty stolen.
A last kiss goodbye, my eyes moist, before we went our separate ways. The promise of reunion, long it echoed in the cool December air, the idyll of gentle love, only cut by a sharp-edged thunder.
It destroyed the calculated monotony of the city bustle with a crash.
A cry, the crowds scattered like pigeons, tearing apart the bustle, leaving me alone in the urban jungle.
Gasping breath, so hasty that my lungs felt as if they were being attacked by a knife, blew white clouds into the cool air. Tears welled up in my eyes, hopeless, dead end, my end, menacingly shrouded, gun pointed at my chest.
Icy eyes behind black glasses, mouth contorted into an eager grimace, taunting, destroying.
He screamed and yet I heard no sound. Speaking, he spat, so loud the voice, yet, my only thought clung to you, my heart, remembering your scent, your smile, eyes shimmery and gentle. Lips tender on mine, hand on my cheek. Home my thoughts, yet lost my body.
A fist hit my nose, pain, explosive behind my eyes, red, all red.
I heard you talking, you seemed to beg. Dogged, voice choked with tears, you appeared to be pleading with me, wanting me to fight. Sadly my lips twisted into a smile, I knew there was no way out, but for your sake, I would try to find one, for your sake, I would try to fight.
I opened my narrowed eyes.
My doom veiled before me.
He shouted. Words, mangled, crashed down on me, thudding past me, meaningless. My passing was unstoppable, yet unacceptable, for you still pleaded.
Crying, hoping, in my ear, you urged me on to one last, fruitless attempt. Just for you, my darling, for you one last time.
A thousand times I would have fought, moved mountains and fetched all the stars from the sky, only to be rewarded by your smile. Just for you, I would have tried to hold on for all eternity, under the hopeless power of the barrel on my chest. Only for you would I never stop fighting, because your smile, your warm hands, in a passionate embrace, pressed against my back, gave meaning to the futile.
My hand searched hurriedly for the cold metal in the waistband of my pants, carefully hidden under my jacket.
Renewed thunder roared in my ears, reverberating screechingly, mingling with the burning fire in my chest. Too late, my hands grasped my own weapon, clanging as it hit the sandy concrete floor, followed by my knees.
Cold steel in my chest shredded the flesh until flaming wet and hard black took away my vision.
You cried.
Dull pain, mixed with the shock of fiery claws in my heart, froze my thoughts.
I thought I felt your hands searching for the impact site, cold wind on my chest, desperately trying to break the incessant flow of blood. Tears dripped down my chest.
My hands pressed hard on the wound.
Like water in a river, bustling, with a clear purpose, it flowed from the source, joined in the sand to form a large lake. Unnaturally dark it appeared in the pale light of the moon, black on the white concrete floor. Lost life on the struggling glimpse of light, of a single dandelion between the stone slabs.
Tortured, a breathed "Paul," struggled through the greedy clamour of onlookers staring at me, thirsty for death, leaving me alone together.
You weren't there.
A single tear ached for freedom, trickling slowly down my chilling cheek, dripping to the ground, engulfed by the rapids of small rivulets. Grief and death balanced around pebbles, moistening the lifeless pavement, seeping into the green ruts. To the end, a destiny.
The ground, hard, stony beneath my knees, now embraced my torso as well, digging into the tender skin of my cheek, taking away the last connection to my heart. The last touch of your hand.
'I love you', I wanted to show you, 'I'm sorry' I wanted to tell you, 'I tried', I wanted to scream, wanted to avert your disappointment. Wanted to avert your suffering. But all the wanting in the world bows, in confrontation with a fixed 'must', in the face of blind hatred.
My eyes fell shut, life froze. And you were not there.
Distantly I heard cries, fading in the light of passing.
In December my breath was taken away.
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In December, His world faded, Left behind, yearning, searching.
In March, Awakening the world, his life remained frozen.
Birdsong high in the trees, entrusted on his windowsill, brought out only bored indifference. The flowers, blooming in all the colours of the rainbow, did not thaw the permanent ice age of his emotions. The chiselled wrinkles around the corners of his mouth remained firmly driven, rigid. Sadly drooping eyes, which not even the springtime sun could make shine.
In the aridity of his heart, his blood dried up, while he was left wandering desperately, aimlessly, searching for his water.
His body hungered for the warm hands of spring, gentle on his body, thirsted for the hot kisses of summer, loving on his lips, longed for the fluttering singing of autumn, on days of endless loneliness, even the sharp words of winter, desperately weeping at the edge of his consciousness, even those he missed.
Life was charmless.
His life was gone.
The hole in his heart would not heal, let all his blood perish, let himself freeze. Everything beautiful, everything once delightful, seemed to him grey, colourless and completely drained of lustre.
The world chased past him, too fast, too cheerfully, and he stopped.
He stopped in December. In the cold. In the wet. He stopped, there, in the black red.
There was nothing but silence. Deafening silence, so loud that even the hands pressed hard on his ears, could not relieve the pain.
A silent scream, the open mouth a sharp wound. The muscles tugged at his skin, slamming their claws into the sensitive flesh, but no sound would escape.
Bitter sobs, bloodcurdling screams, it made no difference.
The silence crushed his eardrums, distorted his sensing, and made the full extent of his suffering, drown in episodic shock.
The cold darkness that caressed his skin with icy claws, that sang to him groaning, also absorbed the desperate tears. Warmly it took him in, mantling his naked misery, with the red cloth of a momentary distraction. As if it seemed to scent salvation, it surged up, from the depths of the withered body, left him hurrying, hoping, feverish.
It pined for him, his body quickened healing, let him slowly rise.
Smooth and cold, the silky fabric enveloped him, wrapped gently around his skin, stole the chill from the darkness.
A single sound penetrated the silence, an angelic choir in the devil's clamour:
"Come to me," expectantly the voice of his life, rose joyfully above the murmur of silence, made his desire bubble over.
And he pressed the knife deeper.
"Richard."
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Hope you liked it, feel free to leave a comment if you like, as they are the fanfic writers' money xd