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Crash. Thwack. Sob. Scream.
It was an everyday for him.They had gotten out, but it was far from smooth. Like a birth. Blood decorating the sheets as they welcomed themselves into the world.They hadn't committed murder, it was only self defense. Their copies were gone as soon as they came, like a printer that ran out of paper, unable to carry out its orders. How ironic. He still remembers the way scarlet embroidered itself onto the mushy walls, the way it blended almost entrancingly with the stars in his eyes, circling as if they were teasing his hysteria. His companion stabbed, and stabbed, and stabbed. The melodic rip of flesh, the cacophony of the cracking of bones. But what inched itself deep inside his tenderly dangerous heart was the fact that he went for him first. His lookalike. Grabbed at his blonde hair, yanked it with so much anger, so much venom. It could've been because of his correspondence with the company--It could've been because he wanted to scare his own doppelganger. But it terrified him... Oh God it terrified him. The doppelgangers were both gone, reduced to a gurgling mess of bones and flesh. The terror on their faces soon to be devoid of all emotion, of all muscle--his yelling and sobbing--the way he pulled at [ANTAG]'s hair--the way he begged him to stop, receiving a puncture to the neck in reply--He wondered at times... What if those two weren't the doppelgangers at all? What if it was them this whole time? Them, carefully plucked out to be used, to be exploited, to be stripped of all sanity for a mere test. For a test to be taken by their real selves. For nothing. Nothing at all. It angered him-- Those thieves. They didn't deserve to escape. To be free. They haven't lived through this purgatory. And so he had laughed too. Laughed as the indigo-haired protagonist, and his shiny blonde coworker got reduced to nothing. Mere pieces of meat, just like them. Sometimes he'd will his eyes shut, and put his battered hand gently on his chest. Feeling the slow, steady, almost labored beating, his heart resonating with the forced work the employees had to carry out. Slowly wearing themselves out, unto the sweet relief of death. Thump. Thump.. Thump...Thud.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
[ANTAG] was never truly important, he was only another being to be manipulated into thinking it's worth something, and using it up for other people, more important people's benefits. He'd go out for interviews, trying to find a job. Trying to live a normal life, trying to detach himself from that horrid company.
It didn't go well. So far, he'd gotten slapped, laughed at, and yelled at. He didn't like it--Not one bit. Maybe his parents were right. He was useless--Worthless. His existence meant nothing, and he would grow to be nothing. They had drilled it deep into his skull, yelled it, screamed it. Sometimes even beat it into him. He couldn't breathe--Those dark, empty eyes staring down at him, teasing his whole being and everything about it. He sobbed. This was normal, it happened every night. His midnight curls fell gently over his eyes, as if shielding him, comforting him. He was all alone. Curled up in his sheets, tears staining the fabric. More pathetic than anyone else, even worse than his sludgy roommate.
**[COLLEAGUE] used to be golden. He was related to the CEO of one of the most well-known companies in the area. But now? He was given weird looks every time he went out. People would mistake him for his lookalike--or his real self. "Have you been doing okay?" "Something gone wrong with the stocks?" "You've changed." Questions would hit him all the time, like [ANTAG] hit him. How was he even supposed to answer? He'd try to get part-time jobs, but they would simply turn him down saying "What's happened to you?". He'd managed to land himself a job at a mediocre office--It wasn't much, but it was something. Maybe they would finally see him as a person of his own, not him. But nothing changed. Relatives would scold him, call him ungrateful. The ones he loved so much weren't themselves anymore. They weren't his.He would hear it every night. The faint sound of crying, and he knew exactly who it came from. The shifting of covers, angry thud of pillows to the wall. Sobbing, sometimes even screaming. It was painful. He wanted to comfort his friend, he wanted to hug him and tell him that it'll be okay--But he was scared. Too scared to go to him, to talk to him about it. Scared of what he'll hear, scared of what the other will say--scared of failing or making it worse. So he covered his ears with his cold hands, pushing his dull fringes of hair to the side, and forced himself to sleep. The crying almost like a lullaby. A melancholy lullaby.**[ANTAG] wasn't one to be compassionate. Not after the elevator the purgatory they had endured. He was fiercely weak. Every small sound irritated him, and every reminder of that horrid place broke a string in his mind. Though he spat venom, he could be broken very easily. He'd tape up the broken pieces and lodge them back together, never truly being fixed. He'd yell about small issues, he'd become violent almost all the time, and sometimes he even ended up hurting himself because of how vividly he expressed his anger. He needed help, he really did. Both of them had their sanity snatched away from them, and were both handling it very differently.
[COLLEAGUE] was mostly the one at the receiving end of [ANTAG]'s expressive agony. He would get yelled at, slapped, screamed at, get things thrown at him, and more. Sometimes, his blonde locks would be yanked and pulled at too. He shrunk away from [ANTAG] most of the time, and did not talk much. Whenever he did try to talk, he would get interrupted by the other. Ironic, isn't it? It used to be the other way around. [ANTAG] was rude to almost everyone, and lost his temper both inside the house and in public very easily. He'd refuse to follow anyone's instructions, take anyone's advice, or even listen to what anyone says. He did not want to be controlled again. He wanted to assert his own rights, he wanted to show that he was his own person--It always ended up in a terrible mess, but he didn't care. He would never follow orders blindly ever again. It was part of the reason it was so hard for him to find a new job, but it wasn't his fault. It was never his fault, but he believed it was, he always did.[COLLEAGUE] was always scared. Always terrified, always shrinking away, always avoiding rough situations. He tried his best to keep people pleased, and he didn't even try to agitate them. He didn't argue. He stayed quiet, agreed with everything they said. Did everything the way people wanted him to. He cowered away even from the smallest things, it caused him to fear even comforting his friend. Even hugging him. He was scared of just about everything. He was frightened that he may end up back in that place, that he may end up alone again--cornered once again.
The elevator had ruined both of them.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
He'd woken up with a headache that made him feel annoyingly nauseous, it was almost like foreshadowing. That something much worse would happen. No matter how much the stupid man with his rich privilege had tried to convince him to take a break, stop going out for hours on end to find a job, he insisted on going.
The blonde always came with him, scurrying behind him like a hungry rat, and getting stopped on the way by a random snobby, rich relative, or an old colleague on the way. He never waited for the man to be finished with his little conversations, he always walked off. Went to his next interview, or even to the nearest shop, just to get away from him. The people stopping to talk to [COLLEAGUE] never even batted an eye at [ANTAG]. They smiled at the other man, made small talk, fussed over him in the fakest way possible, but never even said a word to [ANTAG] himself. He would never admit it, but it hurt. Shouldn't he have expected it, though? He was never meant to amount to anything.
Today, he had been noticed."[COLLEAGUE], it's you! It's been so long--" [ANTAG] turned swiftly, sighing angrily. He noticed a coffee shop, and already pinpointed it as his escape location, but he was stopped by a hand on his shoulder. Who the hell is touching him-- "--And you must be his coworker?"Oh. What in the world? "Y-yeah, I guess." He wasn't happy, but he wasn't as angry anymore. It was a nice surprise. He avoided [COLLEAGUE]'s gaze, and looked the person who had somehow noticed him in the eye. "Are you his aunt?" He asked, smoothly. He liked it, the attention was on him now, not his snobby 'colleague'. The other man had understood that it would be best for him to shut up, and stood idly, fidgeting quietly with his sleeve. "I know your parents."......What?"You must be the little brat that ran away. Went to find a job, huh? You look awful. Unemployed, leeching off my dear nephew?" He didn't know what to say. It was like all the blood in his body froze, pausing to process that sentence. He paled, like a flower submerged into burning alcohol. But this time, unlike all of the others, the blood didn't curl up into its usual spot to cower away. It boiled."How could you say that!? You don't even know me!" He snapped his head toward [COLLEAGUE], expecting for him to fight back, to defend [ANTAG]. To defy what this lady was saying, to take his side. But... he was quiet. He did not say anything, he didn't even look up. He was just standing there, like a coward. Shaking, fingers curling around his other arm.
It was followed by the lady shouting at him for talking back. Berating him, degrading him. Saying his parents were absolutely right about him. What the hell? He doesn't even know her. He's never seen her before, he doesn't want to see her--What kind of idiot is he? Is he so horrible that even people he's never seen before hate him? He's a mess. His parents *were* right. He's sinful. He's unclean. He's ignorant....He's fucking done.He looked up, his vision blurring with tears. He was on a footpath, right before a road. Drowning out the lady's words, he walked. Straight ahead, nothing to steer him out of his path. He was done. He'd gotten the attention he wanted, right? This was the moment that he realised he was truly alone. He was getting dizzy, his head pounding, nausea rising, the bile burning his throat. [COLLEAGUE] noticed, yet he did not move. The traffic looked like a starry sky. Bright lights. swooshing past him. He ran, his original pinpoint, the coffee shop, nowhere to be seen.
Thud.**[COLLEAGUE] didn't like the way his buddy was being treated. He wanted to stop it, he wanted to stop the lady, he wanted to whisper words of comfort to him, tell him that what she says isn't true--But he didn't. He was scared, once again. Too scared to interfere. Too scared to speak. Even though he noticed the way [ANTAG]'s eyes bore into his, pleading. He didn't speak. He watched the way his eyes developed a shine, a melancholy shine. The way his hands shook, the tiredness in his body language. The way he turned away, facing the road. Facing... the road? [COLLEAGUE]'s heart sank. What was he thinking...?He watched as [ANTAG] stepped forward, watching cautiously. He couldn't help the way his feet shuffled to action when he watched his companion run, but he was too late. His stupid, cowardly self was too late. The busy traffic wouldn't stop for [ANTAG]--It was as if he was invisible. And in an instant, he watched as the man thudded, falling onto the rough, concrete surface.......He didn't even make a sound. Not the slightest reaction, not even a gasp of pain. Just... silence. He was awake, he was still conscious, but he almost looked soulless. [COLLEAGUE] could only hear the ringing of the same words in his head.
"What have I done?"He cradled [ANTAG] in his arms. "Talk to me, please--" Nothing. He gently brushed his buddy's indigo curls out of his face, to be met with the sight of his eyes. The black swam in his irises, they seemed to have lost all glimmer. They were focused on nothing, nothing but [COLLEAGUE]. Cold tears staining the man's skin, mouth half-open.
[COLLEAGUE] turned to the lady, and his eyes glittered with pure ferocity. "Who the FUCK do you think you are!? How could you say that about him!? I'm the coward, I'm the one that he has to take care of! I follow behind him, he's the only one who's ever seen me as a person! Get the fuck away from us." The lady turned and sprinted away, probably for her own good, to avoid any blame for this accident, for his *only friend* getting injured. He was right--no matter how much [ANTAG] screamed at him, no matter how many times he must've hurt him, he saw [COLLEAGUE] as *someone*. Not someone to talk to for his own benefit, not someone to pretend around. He never pretended around [COLLEAGUE]. Not once.[COLLEAGUE] squeezed him tightly, trying to offer a semblance of comfort. Comfort he'd been too cowardly to give before. "Please, I can't live without you..""Then... die."
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
That night, in the hospital, [ANTAG] cried terribly. He was dizzy and horribly nauseous, pain drifting slowly through all his veins. "Get me the fuck out of here!" He felt trapped. In a hospital bed, stuck in a room guarded by staff, his skin a mess of needles of IV bags. [COLLEAGUE] finally decided to try and help. He had seen the effects of his cowering away up close now, and he didn't want to risk it once again. He couldn't risk losing him.T̵̢̨̛͙͎̱͓̞̝͎̞̻̭̰̗̜͆̋̍͛͌̓̈Ĥ̸̢̜̥̪̖̤̦̟͔̤̥̄͒̒̈̒̑̕E̷̡̛̤̺̯͍̲̣̼̖̔͗̂̉͗͋̂͛̉́̓̌̚͝N̶̬̺̝͓̗̲̤͈͓̯̔́̎͜͝ ̷̯̩̤͖͎̃̏̈́̑̐̈́̕D̵̦̠̹̳̲̠̰̔̂́͂̌̇̆̃̈́͜I̶͉̝͕̭̼̦̎͜E̴̯͇̤̬͙͇̞̖̩̲̳͖͉̽̈́͋̓̉́̌̂͛͌"[ANTAG], calm down! I'm here--" He stuttered, trying his best to say anything to soothe the man. "No, no!! I don't want to be trapped with you again! Let me go!" He thrashed, making the needles detach from his flesh, blood spewing out the fresh wounds. He gagged from the force of his crying, retching up a pool of bile, bitter and acidic, onto the cold floor. "You're not trapped, [ANTAG]! Please, you're going to die if you keep acting like this!"
"THEN LET ME DIE!"
.
..
..."I can't do that." He wrapped his arms around [ANTAG], pulling him into a warm, tight hug. Mainly to avoid him thrashing around and injuring himself further, but also to give him some peace of mind. He gently rubbed circles into [ANTAG]'s back, cooing words of comfort into his ear. He gave him a bottle of water, which he refused. "I'll leave it with you, okay?" He gave him a sad smile.**[ANTAG] thought they were getting better. Maybe [COLLEAGUE] was finally going to start standing up for himself and [ANTAG], maybe he was finally going to open up and stop being frightened all the time. What he didn't realise is nothing was getting better. Both of their mental states were deteriorating, and rather fast. Both of them needed help to be happy. They needed to communicate, they needed to share their pains, their anger. They needed to talk it out. But they did not.[COLLEAGUE] had left the hospital last night, when [ANTAG] had fallen asleep. The bastard--He probably wanted to sleep comfortably or was too scared of the staff or something. So much that he couldn't even stay with his 'friend'? [ANTAG] shouldn't have expected him to stay anyway. If he can't defend him, why would he stay in the hospital overnight for him? Why would anyone do that for him?Days passed. He hadn't come back. [ANTAG] was angry, very angry. He was going to give him an earful when he gets home--Or maybe he should just leave the apartment and move away. It had been a week--How could he not visit, not even once after that day? When it was him who didn't defend [ANTAG], him who let him be belittled the whole time and let him walk into the traffic? Who did he think he is? I guess they weren't getting better after all.---------------------------------------------------------------------------------T̵̼͑H̷̺̒Ë̶͔́N̷̲͘ ̵͈̃Ḓ̸̍Ì̴͈E̷̳͝ ̵̬̒Ţ̵̄Ĥ̴͍E̵͎̅Ņ̵͘ ̸̰͝D̵͎̾Ǐ̵̮Ẽ̸͖ ̷̰͒T̵̙̀H̷͇̍E̷̛͎N̷̛̟ ̴͖̑D̸͖͆Ḯ̶̫E̴͔͝ ̵̧͠T̶̨͐Ḩ̴̈E̶̛̖Ṅ̷͓ ̵̜̍D̵̠̽I̴͉̋Ě̴͖ ̸͕̒T̵͙̓H̵͇̽Ẹ̴̀N̶̬͝ ̶̜̓D̴̰͘I̸͎̒E̸̻̚ ̵̨̃T̷̠͘H̵͙͑E̶̥̓N̸̤̈́ ̵̥̆D̸̨͐I̴̩̋E̴̲͘ ̵͓͒T̴͕͊H̷̡͊E̶̝͘Ň̶̘ ̸̖̋D̷̼͘I̶̤̿Ë̷͙ ̶̨͗T̵̛̞H̵̤̆Ë̸͙N̸͎̄ ̸̺̀D̵͈̈́I̴͓̿Ê̷̼ ̷̰̌T̵̼̽H̴̠͛Ĕ̸̞N̸͎̓ ̵͍̄D̵̰͊Ì̶̙Ẽ̷̞ ̶͎̽T̷̞͒H̷͇͆É̵̳N̶͕͘ ̸̩̍D̷̘͒I̸̲̽E̴̬͊ ̴͖̿T̵͓̿H̴͇̒E̶͖͊N̴̰̄ ̶͖͌Ḋ̵̤I̸̜̓E̸͜͠ ̵̻̈T̷͔̄H̴͚̓È̵̩Ǹ̶̳ ̶͔̎D̶̢̔Ỉ̸̦Ẽ̸̻ ̵̩̽T̴̞̉H̸̤̎É̶̲N̵̞͌ ̶̞̋D̸̙̚Í̸̥Ē̴͖ ̷͆͜Ṱ̷́Ȟ̶̠È̷ͅN̶̤̂ ̸͙̓Ď̷̖Í̵̗Ȩ̵́ ̶̤͐T̵̫͆H̴͇́Ĕ̴̝N̷̩͝ ̶͉̇D̸̡̓Ĩ̴̼Ě̵͚ ̵̞̄T̸̺͒Ḫ̸̃Ë̷̪́N̸̝̔ ̶̛̳Ḑ̸͠I̴̥̒E̶̼͘ ̸͓͘T̶̼̎H̸̠͗Ȇ̵̖N̶̙͛ ̸̳͐D̷̬̽Í̸̙E̷̻͂ ̷͍͘T̵̜̂Ḧ̶̞́E̴͈͗N̷̝̈́ ̷͍̂D̷̤͗Ǐ̴̹E̸̡̿ ̶̘͝T̴̔͜H̷̺̿E̶̯͊Ṋ̴̈ ̷̐͜Ď̵͎I̸͎̓Ẻ̸͉ ̴̡͘T̴̠͠Ḧ̶̝́E̸͍̍Ń̴͍ ̵̯̌D̶̖͝Ỉ̸̗Ḙ̶́ ̷̺̇T̷͔̚H̴̭̃E̸̻̍Ň̷̝ ̷͖͊D̷̢͠I̸̫̔Ě̷͕ ̸̮̅T̵̹̿H̴̭̀Ë̷̬N̴͎͝ ̵͕͒Ḋ̸̖I̵̛̥E̸̙͊ ̵͓̆T̷̪̿H̷̡̕E̴̡͠N̷͔͑ ̴̝̚D̸͍͂I̵͚͠Ë̵͕ ̴̲̒T̶͓̕H̶̪͝Ȅ̷͇Ṋ̷̈́ ̴͓̈D̷͖̀Ĭ̶͉Ẻ̸̻ ̷̲̕T̷͖̿H̴̜̽É̶̪Ń̶̟ ̶͙́D̵͕̈́I̶͚̽Ë̴̤́ ̸̠̉T̴̳̄H̵̻̕E̷͎̋N̴͇̊ ̶̼̈́D̴͉͛I̶̫͑E̸̯͗ ̷̬̍T̷̤̎H̷̱̚Ȇ̷̼N̶̩̑ ̷̜͂D̶̥̎Ì̸͇E̸̦͗ ̵̣̄T̵̮͊H̸͚̃È̷͉N̷̕͜ ̶͔̈D̷̥͝İ̴̞E̴͍͊ ̶̳͒T̷̤̒H̴͖͊E̶̡͆N̸̦̈́ ̵̮̓D̷̞̈Í̷͇Ȅ̷̞ ̸͖̍T̸͔͊H̶̼͂Ê̷̝N̷̢͝ ̸̘̀D̶͎̕I̶͓͐Ę̶͆ ̶̹̐T̷̠̃H̵̱̓Ę̴̓N̷̻͂ ̴͚̏D̵͎̒Į̵̎E̵̮͋ ̸͈̋T̷̪̒H̶̪̃Ẻ̵̞N̶̰̕ ̵̛̥D̶̡̽I̷̜̅E̵̻͂ ̴̘̈́Ṱ̴̒H̶̩̽E̷̞̚N̸̹̊ ̷̗͑D̷͕̏Ȉ̸͇E̴͍͝ ̷̟̉T̴͔͒H̶̗̾Ḙ̵̐N̷̳̆ ̶͓̈́D̴̢͝Ȉ̴̞E̶͕̍ ̷͉̅Ṭ̵̊H̶͉̏E̷̦̔N̴̢͌ ̷̞̌D̴̻̓Í̵̪E̵̠̅ ̴̩͗T̸̺̔Ḧ̶̘́E̶̖͑Ṋ̷͆ ̴̺͝Ḍ̶͒I̸̪̊Ȇ̸͔ ̸͗ͅT̴̳̈́H̵̟͂E̵̮͛N̶̞̈́ ̷̙͗D̵͉̑I̷͍͝Ẻ̸͎ ̵̡̈́T̴̥̈́H̴̝͐E̴̝͋N̸̨̈ ̸͙̄D̸̰̄I̷̡͠E̴̳͠ ̷̬͝T̴͈̔H̶̫̓E̴͕͋N̵̝͑ ̴̢̀D̶̦̈́Ḯ̸̩E̸͓̓ ̷̜̔T̸̻̎H̵͍͐Ė̶͓N̶̨͊ ̸̭̏D̷͔͒İ̷̘E̷͍͛ ̴̎͜T̸̋͜H̷͇̿Ẹ̵̒N̴͔̐ ̵̢͌D̵͉̑I̴̛̺Ẽ̶̩ ̶̰̾T̴̊͜H̵͎̚E̵̘͠Ṅ̴͚ ̷̧̐D̷̼̈I̶̞͂Ḙ̶͗ ̷̯̆T̵̫̄H̷͙̃E̴̲͂Ǹ̸ͅ ̴̲̌D̴̘̀Ì̸̺E̶̮̅ ̸̤̾Ţ̶͑H̷͔́Ē̷͔N̴̐ͅ ̸̙̔D̶͙̍Ï̵̝E̵̢͆ ̴̪̎T̷͍̈H̸͕̉E̸͔͑Ň̵̮ ̷͍̈́D̷̼͆I̸̡̊E̵̯̓ ̴̮̀Ț̷͌Ḥ̸̇E̷̺͒N̴̡͋ ̸͔̆Ḓ̴̍I̶̭͂E̵̯̔ ̵̭̔T̵̘̏H̴͎͝Ĕ̴̜N̵̤̂ ̴̤͝Ḋ̷̦I̵͚͝E̷̳̓ ̸̡͝T̵̛̩Ḥ̴̉E̸͍͠N̷̜̈ ̴͍̄D̸̛͉I̵̩͝E̴̠̍ ̷͚̕T̷͙͘H̸͔̏E̵̡̔N̵̟͗ ̸̲̈́D̸̦͝I̶̞̿Ě̶̙ ̵̠̂T̴̹̄H̴̒ͅE̸͈͑Ń̶̳ ̸̤̃D̶̳̂I̶̙̋Ë̴͎ ̵̀͜T̵̜͘H̶͍̽E̷͉͆Ǹ̷̝ ̷̭͋D̴̰̾I̶͙͝E̷̤̕ ̵̙̔T̶͎̂H̷͉̄E̶͉̚N̸͙̅ ̵̟̀D̷͎͊Ȉ̶͇Ę̶͋ ̶̢̚T̷̥̈H̴͎̅È̸̫N̶͍͘ ̵̢̏D̸̹͊Ḯ̴̪É̵̢ ̴̗̂T̴͈̓H̸̬́E̶̘̅N̷̠̈ ̶͍̓Ḑ̵͆İ̷̠E̷̻͆ ̸̠͝T̷̡̓H̸̱̅Ȩ̴̄N̶̲͗ ̷̡͋D̸̠̐I̴̡̋E̴̡͝ ̸̱̓T̴͚̐H̸͓̏E̶̢͗N̶̳̕ ̶̬͋D̶̞̔Í̸̪E̸͚̔ ̵͖́T̷̙̈H̸̞̿E̸͈̓N̴̙̐ ̶̙̽D̸̮̀Ǐ̴͔E̸̹̊ ̷̜̋T̸̕͜H̴̠̍E̶̗̓N̶̪̈ ̴̜͆D̵̗͛I̴̝͒E̴̖͝ ̵̼̄T̶̪̋Ḫ̸͌E̴̱̎N̶̹̕ ̶̨̒D̸̪̿I̸͜͠Ë̶͚́ ̷͍̚Ţ̷̈H̷̪̍É̷̤N̶̥̊ ̴̞͗D̵͖͌Ị̴͌E̴̞̋ ̷̼͝Ț̴̌H̸̛̤È̴̝Ṅ̸͍ ̵̘͛D̷͓́Î̴͖E̴̮̓ ̶̥͗T̴̯͗H̸͑͜E̴̺͠N̶̺̓ ̷̦̚D̶͈̃I̵̻͋E̷̘͊ ̴͓̅Ṯ̷̓H̴̺̿E̷̦̎Ñ̶̝ ̶̯̈́Ḋ̷͜I̵͕͆E̵͇͂ ̶̢̓T̸̻͂H̵͈̉Ė̶͔N̶̬̕ ̶̗͝D̸̜͌I̴͕̒E̶̫͠ ̴̨͝T̵̮͗Ḣ̶͔E̵̟͗N̷̺̋ ̴̠̎D̵̏ͅÍ̵̤È̶͙ ̵̤̈́Ť̴͖H̸̳͝E̸͖̓N̴̠̐ ̶̪͝D̸̪͊Ï̷̤E̸̝͋ ̵̬͝Ṱ̵͊Ḧ̸̫È̵̠N̸͎͠ ̴̗̀D̵̞̅İ̴̥E̸̜͒ ̸̧̃T̴̹͘H̸̡̒E̴̯͒N̶̛̳ ̸̪̾D̶̟͠I̸̘̓E̶̝̾ ̶͉͛T̶̺̔H̷̯͠É̶̺N̵̫̎ ̸̗͘D̸̺̈Ḯ̸̮E̸̖̚ ̵̼͐T̶͍̀H̸̠̑Ḙ̸̆N̴̩̓ ̵̺̚D̷̽͜I̵͍͗E̸̫͒ ̷̰̔T̷͉͑H̸͎̅E̷͘͜N̴̖̊ ̸̩͒D̸̗̂I̶̢̎E̸̦͋ ̶̯̽Ť̷͇H̶͙̑E̶̗̾Ṅ̵̮ ̷̯͗D̵̺̆Ĭ̵̲Ẻ̵̼ ̸̲̓T̶̲́Ḥ̵̄E̴̬͒Ń̶͈ ̸͕̈́D̷̫͝I̴͍͌E̵͍̓ ̴͈͂T̵̞̕H̴̙͂É̵̯N̶͎̈́ ̵͘͜D̴̄ͅI̵̥̚E̴͖͝ ̸͓͗Ț̵̇H̴̭̑E̴̾ͅŃ̴̺ ̴̙͊D̴̋ͅḬ̴̌E̷̲͋ ̷̫͂T̵͖͑H̸͈̓Ȇ̶͍N̴̠͊ ̵̠͊D̸̮͠I̵̘͠E̸͍̾ ̶̳̾T̵̩̿H̸͔͛E̸̜͆Ñ̷̡ ̴͕͌D̷̟͗I̵̜̍E̵̩̍ ̶̡͠T̸̮̅H̴̲̆E̶̺̓N̸͜͝ ̷̲̔D̶̥͠Į̶̔E̶͈̔ ̵̝͑T̴͙̎H̴͕͂E̸̹̔N̵̤̿ ̵͇̽Ḋ̵̻I̸̿ͅE̷̮̕ ̶̡́Ṱ̴̀H̷̹́E̸̹̿N̴̞̓ ̸͉̓D̶̯̕I̶̯̽E̴̬͗ ̵̟͝T̶̟̔H̸̝̆E̵͓̍N̸͓̆ ̴͎͛D̶̖͝I̶̞̔E̷̞̾ ̵̫͋T̸̪̔H̴͖͗Ë̸͚́N̷̠͑ ̶̱͊D̶̺̓I̴̝̔Ë̶̬́ ̶̘̽T̵̼̂H̷̗̚Ḛ̸͝N̴͈̚ ̴̨́D̶̗͋I̶̧͛Ḛ̸́ ̴̡̚T̶̳̕H̵̖̔E̷̼̒N̷̫͐ ̶͙̔D̵̨̈I̴̠͘E̶̱̅ ̵̯̅Ț̴͛Ȟ̴̼Ĕ̵̥N̶̫͗ ̴͈̽D̷͎̽Ȉ̴̪E̴͒͜ ̶̯͌T̶͇̐H̸͓͑Ḙ̶͠Ṉ̴́ ̵̼͐Ḋ̸̻Ḭ̴̍Ȅ̸̳ ̸̝̿T̶̝̓Ḣ̶͖E̸͖͊Ñ̶͈ ̴͖̈D̸̗͋I̶̤̚E̴͙̒ ̷͓͑T̶͔̅H̶̠͝Ë̸̳́N̵̖͆ ̶̫͝D̵̞͐I̸͕̕É̶͉ ̵̮͠T̵̰̉H̵̛͙E̵̦̓N̷̛̯ ̴̜́D̸̪͠İ̴͜E̴̺̕ ̸͚͝Ṭ̷̆Ĥ̵͈E̸̤͌N̶̘̓ ̵͙̿D̵̻̿I̴̥͗E̴̗͋ ̶̗̄T̷̗̽H̴̟͝E̶͙̔N̴̼͘ ̸̱̌D̸̯͝I̵̹͘É̸̦ ̸̩̃T̷̪̎H̴̨̆Ẹ̷̽N̸̘̾ ̶̹̈D̴̢͊Ì̵͔E̵͔͝ ̴̃͜T̴͎͆Ḫ̷̌É̵̱N̶̨̐ ̴̞̂D̴̹̉I̴̭͂E̶̜̋ ̶͙̾T̸͙̒H̸̯͌Ȇ̸͈N̶͕̐ ̶̮̋D̶̬̓I̷͙̿Ȩ̴͗ ̶̭̐T̵̗͆Ḥ̷̒E̶̙͂Ṋ̶̈́ ̵͍̆D̶̛̦I̵̫̕E̶̟͊ ̸͓̐T̴̜͊H̴͙͒E̸̛͍N̴̳̄ ̸̩͋D̵͚̕I̶̪̅E̷̮͑ ̵͓̓**[ANTAG] was ready to be discharged, to go home. The injury wasn't all that bad, so he didn't have to stay in the hospital for too long. He was glad, because he really missed wanted to give that blondie an earful for leaving him all alone all that time. It was suffocating, claustrophobic--He hated it. He hated him.
He slid the key into the door, but paused. His heart sank, out of nowhere. That same feeling that caused his chest to tighten, made him feel like he couldn't breathe. Like the world had just shattered around him. He dreaded opening that door, but he himself didn't know why. He turned the key, and with a click, the door swung open."I'm home, asshole. Fuck you t--".He dropped the bag of medicine in his hand. The vials shattered, the glass and sticky medicinal liquid spilling on the messy floor.
.
..
...
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
[COLLEAGUE] had messed up. He had always messed up. He had always ended up hurting those who love, or stood by ignoring the way others got hit with sorrow after sorrow because of his seniors' orders, he had to watch it all happen and in the end succumbed to the very same thing. He was left all alone, alone but with one man. One man that he had grown so used to, whose face he had memorised every little wrinkle of, whose eyes he had memorised every drop of colour in their irises of, whose hair he had memorised every little curl and shine of. He had messed up again. He'd ruined himself, and he'd ruined him. He'd been too cowardly to act, he'd been too stupid, too idiotic to speak for him. And now he had to face what he'd done.T̵͕͙̜͕͖̘̣̜̪̉͜H̶̡̛͇͉̮͕̭͍̹̭̯͇̺̀̓̊͝E̸̻̦͙̙̫͍̫̹̹̺̲͚̠̺̟͉̳̒̾͛̍͆͌̎̑̆͛̽͊̀̃̀̃̑̄́͜N̵͙̺͙̣̪̪͎͇͉̱͉͓̗̭̜̲̓̑̏̐ ̴̧̟̃̀̈́̐͒͑͋̓̓͑̈͂͊̂̆͂̈́͝Ḑ̴̝̮̭̞̠͉̣̤͚̜̊̉͠ͅI̷̢̺͍̪͎͇̝̦̩̾́͒͐͆̑͑͆͑̋̎̓̉͘E̵̛̺̤̺̞̥̘͕͉͖͓̳̗̮̬̲͓̤͌̔̓̐̃̈ ̴̛̼͓͙͕̻̳̥̳͛̍̈́̉̈́͌̈́͛̓̋̊̃̑͘̕͜͝ͅHe picked up the scissors, so gently that it seemed like he was only going to use them to cut a piece of paper, or to make a flower wreath. He silently apologised to [ANTAG]. The first thing he would see when he was discharged would be...He prayed [ANTAG] would get home safe.He turned them on himself.
GGrrk!
**"NO!! NO, YOU FUCKING IDIOT!!" He was gone. His skin was pale and clammy, his limbs were stiff and unmoving. His eyes were hollow. [ANTAG] gently rubbed his thumb on the stubble covering his chin, brushing his frizzy, goldenly dull hair away from his eyes, wiping at the dried tears staining bloodless skin. Is this God's punishment? Is this what he gets, is this what the cross on his wall was warning him about? Is this why they always called him dirty? Sinful?
He would join him. His last display of control over his own life. He slowly, lovingly guided the scissors out of his companion's neck, and--
Crunch
**They lay side by side. [ANTAG]'s twitching hand latched onto [COLLEAGUE]'s. Almost peacefully. The scarlet mixing in a singular puddle, uniting.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
[ANTAG] woke up to sobbing. But it wasn't his own.He flexed his fingers. No blood, and they were colder than his colleague's. It was dark. Their rose had closed up around them, swallowing them whole. They were a mere rotten seed. Unable to fulfill their use, trapped inside the darkest areas of the rose, never to see daylight again.
They were back to the elevator.The elevator doors opened, to reveal the protagonist and his egotistical coworker. Once again. But this time, things were different.He didn't have any words. He was quiet, very still. [COLLEAGUE] had his arms tightly wrapped around [ANTAG]. Maybe that's what kept him from screaming. They were never meant to be free. They were never meant to be. The faint dampness on his shoulder from the tears, the trembling of muscles brushing against his suit. He shakily placed his hands on his colleague's, and closed his eyes, feeling his pulse like it was a soothing melody.
Thump. Thump. Thump.Thud.