Things aren't as pretty... On the inside

[keikokitten]

Eh.. you know me. I'm an angst fiend. Here's a very, very short story.



He handed me the gun, his eyes were wide, red rimmed, and flooded with tears.

"I Know we promised to make this the perfect end, but I won't.. I can't."

I looked up at him, and he sat down, sliding the pistol across the coffee table, towards me.

I watched on in silence as a bitterness crept over his features. Bitterness did not suit him.

"It's over." He got up to leave, I caught the faint glimmer of dissapointment in his eyes and hurriedly moved to catch him by the wrist. He sneered and whispered something rushed in finnish.

"Don't you fucking touch me, I said it was over!" His hand came down hard, almost turned over the bronze colored liquid in his glass. He looked up at me and simply stared.

"Would you shut up? I thought we had a bond. Sit the fuck down and talk to me, what happened?"

"Fuck that! Fuck talking! I'm in love, and I'll be damned if ANYTHING I promised you takes that away!" He looked like he wanted to spit in my face, but he didn't.

"You're a coward." A momment passes us by, just a minute. But I'm thankful that I can say that was one minute more than it could have been.

His fingers danced around the rim of his glass, I could smell the cognac on his breath and I can only long to kiss those lips.

"I'm sorry" He whispered, his eyes darted across the dimly lit room, finally settling on his drink.

It felt like hours, my eyes burning into him, begging, pleading with all the power in the world, that he'd stay. That he'd pick up that gun and meet me on the other side.
But in the end, I proved powerless, there wasn't a flaw in him. There was no way for me to get in.

I snatched the glass of cognac from his hand, took a deep drink of it, and relaxed as the burning liquid soothed the fire in my chest.

"Oh, I understand." I took the gun and tilted it towards my head.

"Don't do that..." He pleaded, his voice was exhausted.

"It's alright, I'm fine. I won't pull the trigger, so I don't think that I'll die."

"Damnit Bam... Why the hell are you doing this?" He rose to his feet too fast, the glass I let rest on the table fell to the floor. He bent down, tried to pick up a handful of shards and withdrew his arm in agony. I took his hand in mine and examined the wound undeneath cheap flourescent lights.

For such a small cut, it sure knew how to bleed.

"Bam. Do you love me?"

I nodded and he drew my fingers to his lips.

"Then don't ever speak to me