a Famous Last Words One Shot. I'm incomplete, out here on my own
I felt unconsciousness knocking at my insides, ripping and screaming my soul away from my body. But within the rib cage, and inside my dead beating heart, I couldn't let go to the soul crying within. Every thought thrashing inside as my being spit out obscure fragments of words, blinding me like a marquee to a new building, in a new town, in a new state; you're a fucking deer caught in the headlights. I could really care less that I was dragged out of reality, I could finally die within myself, instead spitting hatred out at all the prudes with their aesthetics and their disability to condone, running the place and staring me down as if they were patrons, turning me away and shoving me into the gutters. The world is so fucking ugly, and they wanted to lie, cry, and deny. That's the way they drag on during life; and it makes me sick. Completely unbiased by the world screaming around them, watching it all as if it were only an 'if' scenario, as if they were watching a depiction; to them, everything's a propaganda, every sentimental decision was wrong. What was that saying? "A rose by any other name would smell just as sweet?" I never was big on poetry, but just think about it, all the straights and prudes, the homosexuals and bisexuals, transvestites and effeminates; they're all the same. And we're all going to hell. But that's beyond the point, I'm dead, there's no need to rant on about how much I hate the world.
“So long and goodnight...” I sang softly, letting the black gulp me whole as I received the whole 'marquee' feeling again.
A light. A new light, it was softly blinding like a feline kneading you with love. Or an argument with a lover abruptly ended with a shocking kiss; forgetting the harsh words shared only seconds before. Though the light stayed, so did the blackness, swarming around me like a horde of bees, annoyingly buzzing and zapping at your skin. I felt a hand twine with mine and I sat up, frantically searching the blackness as the twined enchantment faded from my own hand.
“Gerard?" I called out, not knowing why I was so obsessed with the fact of finding him. Or why the thought of him being there made my heart slightly jump. I didn't feel like the Tristan Iero I really was, I felt like a human being; emotionally tied instead of emotionally cut off.
“I fucking hate you...” I lashed out, all words aimed at Gerard; where ever he was. “Look at what you've turned me into; and to think I once flooded with feelings of love toward you." I tried to work past my rigid, rocky exterior to say what I really wanted to say. But I didn't know how. Every word right now was so significant, every letter or metaphor brushing past my lips like a paintbrush gliding against a freshly covered canvas.
“I-" My throat swelled, and my lips formed a thin, grim line as my words were caught just beyond my sinful tongue. 'Just say it. It's not like he's listening; and what the hell do you have to lose?' A voice snapped in the back of my head, and I mentally shook myself, completely imagining Gerard next to me as I sputtered out incoherent words.
"Gee," I had already stopped, feeling like a moron. I had never called him Gee out loud before. Was it too soon?
“I-I mean, Gerard, I just wanted to say..." Then I shoved it all away, the discomfort and discouragement, because as far as I was concerned, these may be the last words I may ever speak or manage, I might as well spit it all fucking out right now.
I took a deep breath. “I’m so sorry, Gerard. I’m sorry for everything, the cemetery and for fuck's sake the overdose. I wish this never would have happened. I wish I wouldn’t have let you die. I wish I could have saved you, I wish I’d been there when you needed me the most. I wish-" For the first time in years, I let a tear restlessly slide down my cheek. “Gerard, I lo-"
And then my conscience died.
And I was gone...