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writingwithadragon · 5 years

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ACT II

John stumbled into his apartment door, a small slurred curse left his lips. His hands seemed to flail around in and out of his pockets, frantically searching for the key. When he found them it took him a while to insert the right one into the keyhole after trying several times with his car’s. John ended up dropping the keys multiple times getting pitiful looks from people nearby. He took no notice of any of it as he shuffled into his now lonely home. A home that no longer felt like home to him. Home is where he was with Jaren. Now, look at him, a raging alcoholic and an insomniac. John threw his jacket at the ground after slamming the front door shut.

He hated the fact that he was alone, the empty living room didn’t help that fact. Pictures of his past littered the walls, a few had their frames shattered. Many of those pictures were of him and Jaren smiling or kissing each other. Oh how much he missed those days. His kitchen seemed to be untouched, like he hasn’t eaten in days. An angered sigh left his lips as he kicked his shoes off sending them to bang against the wall. They landed near John’s favorite old pair of boots, forgotten with a thick layer of dust to cover them. John grabbed a tuft of his faded bleached hair. The look he had was of a disheveled man, from his hair down to the way he dressed. His hair needed to be re bleached, brushed, and get a few inches snipped. As it reached passed his shoulders in full length. The colors of his eyes had drained away just like the colors that used to cover his nails. His clothing choices no longer portrayed his fashion sense, sticking to colorless shirts, blue jeans, and a random pair of shoes. He had no one to impress or express to anymore.

The drunk wobbled on his feet as he walked towards the stairs. He punched the wall next to him to try and release some of the growing anger. The wall had a new hole in its surface as it left John’s knuckles slightly bruised and sent a framed picture to fall to the floor. He gripped onto the oak railing as he hobbled and tripped up the stairs. Slurred curses gave sound other than John heaving his body up to the second floor. An old vase sat on a small table situated by the wall in front of the staircase. The floors had rotted away weeks ago after they stopped being cared for. Almost falling into his room John catching himself on his desk. Apologetic letters covered the surface, he had at least fifty and twenty ripped to shreds. Old love letters had been stacked there, they were forgotten long ago. With a burst of drunken rage John sent everything into the air.

A brutal scream came from his throat as he sent his fist into his door. A new hole was added to the others close around it. John fell to the ground and punched the carpeted floor, his knuckles were bleeding and bruised like his heart. He cried out again, he was still too drunk to care if anyone heard him. His tears soaked the carpet as he hiccuped here and there between his sobs. He wanted something to hold him and tell him he was okay, but Jaren left months ago. Jaren was always there for him, making sure he was okay whenever something happened. When they were friends John only confined in Jaren, Jaren did the same. John remembered when his first asked out Jaren, he was crying so hard he never realized he confessed his feelings. Only until Jaren said he felt the same way. They dated for two weeks until they made the decision to move in together. That lasted a whole year with many memories or movie nights, ruined date nights, and loving moments shared between the two.

But after John came home drunk and pissed off, it was instantly over. Punching the wall leaving a dent behind will never scream safety to someone, especially if it was out of anger. His mind bubbled into self hate, he couldn’t believe he would scare the love of his life away from him. John picked himself up off of the floor and dragged himself onto his bed. The bed was messy with its covers thrown haphazardly across it. John was small compared to his bed which was meant for two people. He had come to a conclusion, Jaren deserve someone better. Someone that loved him as much as John did, but never scared him enough to think he would be hurt. John pulled out his cracked phone, opening it to check emails. He accidentally tapped on his gallery and was greeted by repressed memories. He tried to back out of it only to click on a video.

Laughter instantly filled the room, John bit his lip. The video was of him and Jaren goofing around, Jaren was in John’s arms as they sang along poorly to a song in the background. Jaren had rested his head on John’s chest and smiled brightly.

‘I never want this to end, John’ Jaren had said sending a smirk onto John’s lips.

John put Jaren down who looked up at him confused, ‘That’s why I got you this,’ John held out a small box and gave it to Jaren, ‘Open it.’

That Jaren did, and instantly covered his mouth with a single hand. Jaren gasped with tears filling his eyes, ‘Is this a promise ring?’

‘Yeah,’ John smiled moving Jaren’s hand and kissed him roughly on the lips.

The video ended there, John was crying again, his face red with eyes swollen. That lasted didn’t it? You ruined everything. He must’ve pawned off that ring, how much was it again? You spent a thousand dollars on it just to throw it away. How could such a perfect person love a mess like you? You never deserved him in the first place. Did he really love you? It was pity. Why did you scare him? You’re a monster. Would another drink help? It would. No, fuck this! John jumped up and looked at the time, tossing his phone on the bed. He would talk to Jaren if he didn’t reek of alcohol. The smell could never be fixed with a shower. But in all honesty John would talk, even if it made things worse. He just wanted to apologize for scaring him so bad in the first place.

The time had passed quickly, night was now day, noon to be more accurate. John rubbed his eyes and walked over to his closet. He wanted to go for a walk to clear his mind. He tugged off his shirt, replaced it and stripped out of his blue jeans for a pair of black pants. In a desperate attempt to look presentable he pulled out his favorite sweatshirt, the one Jaren gave to him on his birthday. It was red, blue, and yellow, it even still smelled faintly of him, vanilla and buttercups. As he made his way to the stairs, he stopped in front of the vase. He remembered the bright yellow buttercups that grew in the now dusty white pottery. But now they had withered away, leaving their corpses in a pile at the bottom of the china. John scoffed at himself for forgetting to take care of them. He picked up the vase and and carried it gently downstairs into the kitchen. Where he dumped out the contents into the trash, leaving the empty object on the island.

Grabbing a rag he picked up his old worn boots and dusted them off. Putting them on his feet he headed outside, locking the door behind him. The air was crisp and a heavy fog rolled slowly on, not seeming to end. He took a deep breath and made his way into the city. Walking for who knows how long, he just enjoyed the clicking of his boots and the sounds of the city. The fog lightened up a little showing the almost empty streets. A car would pass every once in a while, as the fog deterred most drivers. But the sound of laughter made John’s heart stop. He looked over to where it came from, a small coffee shop with tables lined up in front of the windows. His breath hitched and his eyes grew wide at the scene before him. Jaren sat with his back facing him, laughing with a few of John’s old friends.

Cam had noticed him instantly as a scowl was thrown across his face. Swagger and Toby glared at him from where they were sitting. That seemed to alert Jaren that something was wrong, Toby whispered into his ear causing his past lover to tense up. He seems scared to you, right? You must still scare him. How sad is that? It’s pitiful. Maybe you should get a drink to forget about it? Swagger always carries a flask. Maybe Toby would lend you his juul? Then you can go home and get drunk. Wouldn’t that be nice? It would. Shut up, they hate me anyways. Cam is so protective isn’t he? Protecting a frightened Jaren that had only heard your name, from you? Cam knows about everything you did to him. Why wouldn’t he protect him? Only a monster could do that. He’s protecting him from you, a monster you know? That’s what Cam sees, a monster. They all do. John frowned and walked off again and soon found himself on a bridge. Do you think the water would be warm? Take a dip and see. I said shut it! Then maybe just stand on the edge for a bit? It might be relaxing, especially with the light breeze. Maybe you’re right. I’m scared of heights though. Does that really matter right now? It shouldn’t. Yeah I’ll relax for a bit. John took a shaky breath as he climbed the cold chain linked fence.

The fog seemed to swallow him from view from any passing vehicle. Once he made it to the other side he linked his fingers around the looped metal and dangled himself over his worst fears; water and heights, having developed them after breaking an arm falling out of a tree, and almost drowning in a small pond alone. And that was how he was going to die. Breaking his body from the fall and drowning alone and forgotten.

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Quick shout out to @i-still-have-my-doubts

#my writing #gbg #krii7y #gbg kryoz #kryoz #kryozgaming #gbg smii7y #smii7y #smii7oz #act #act ii

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