One Man Drinking Games (s/a)
Title:One Man Drinking Games
Pairing:Jalex
Rating:R
Warnings:Suicide
Author's Note:Eh, a practice at writing in second person. I was working on my writers block, and this happened. Sorry it's so short.
Your hands tremble as your fingers grip at the wooden pencil placed between your thumb and index fingers. The alcohol is still thick on your breath, open bottle of pills resting along the counter top in which you're standing in front of. You begin writing, sloppily at first, gradually working your way into something somewhat legible.
I don't want you to feel sorry for me, you write. I'm just not welcome here anymore. I belong in Heaven, with the boy I love. Please, don't try to stop me. By the time anyone reads this, it'll be too late. My heart will have already stopped it's rhythmic beat, my blood will stop pulsing through my veins. It's better this way. I need to be with Jack. And nothing will stop me. Mom, Dad, I love you and I'm so sorry for doing this. You've always deserved a better son then what I've given you. Rian and Zack, thank you for being my best friends, for helping me along the way. And Jack, thank you for being you. Thank you for teaching me how to love, I'm coming home.
You scribble your name at the bottom, along with two little x's, before folding the slip of paper and push it to the side. Your hands reach for the pills, desperately searching for a way out. The bottle it's self feels like a thousand pound weight, pleading with you to stop. But you don't listen. The small, round tablets fall into your hand, two, three, four. They just keep coming. The pouring stops once you're satisfied, eight pills resting in the palm of your right hand. The left hand reaches for the already open bottle of Jack Daniel's.
"There's no turning back now," you say, before dumping the pills into your mouth, swishing them down with the alcohol. It burns your throat, almost making it hard to swallow. But you push through it. There really was no turning back now. In a few hours, you would be dead. They'll find you, lying on the floor somewhere, with a sick grin spread across your face. And somehow, you're fine with that.
Pairing:Jalex
Rating:R
Warnings:Suicide
Author's Note:Eh, a practice at writing in second person. I was working on my writers block, and this happened. Sorry it's so short.
Your hands tremble as your fingers grip at the wooden pencil placed between your thumb and index fingers. The alcohol is still thick on your breath, open bottle of pills resting along the counter top in which you're standing in front of. You begin writing, sloppily at first, gradually working your way into something somewhat legible.
I don't want you to feel sorry for me, you write. I'm just not welcome here anymore. I belong in Heaven, with the boy I love. Please, don't try to stop me. By the time anyone reads this, it'll be too late. My heart will have already stopped it's rhythmic beat, my blood will stop pulsing through my veins. It's better this way. I need to be with Jack. And nothing will stop me. Mom, Dad, I love you and I'm so sorry for doing this. You've always deserved a better son then what I've given you. Rian and Zack, thank you for being my best friends, for helping me along the way. And Jack, thank you for being you. Thank you for teaching me how to love, I'm coming home.
You scribble your name at the bottom, along with two little x's, before folding the slip of paper and push it to the side. Your hands reach for the pills, desperately searching for a way out. The bottle it's self feels like a thousand pound weight, pleading with you to stop. But you don't listen. The small, round tablets fall into your hand, two, three, four. They just keep coming. The pouring stops once you're satisfied, eight pills resting in the palm of your right hand. The left hand reaches for the already open bottle of Jack Daniel's.
"There's no turning back now," you say, before dumping the pills into your mouth, swishing them down with the alcohol. It burns your throat, almost making it hard to swallow. But you push through it. There really was no turning back now. In a few hours, you would be dead. They'll find you, lying on the floor somewhere, with a sick grin spread across your face. And somehow, you're fine with that.