A/N: In a very odd mood lately... Working on getting the first chapter of 'A Diamond So Dark' out. ::grins weakly:: I've finally picked out names for my two main characters... Which, somehow brings me back to my ongoing story of the two boys without names. Kinda experimental with this one... ::shrug:: Not my usual style, I guess.

--Side story to 'Just Stop' and sequel to 'Trapped Inside Pain'--

Warnings: Language, suicide, implied slash, strange POV, angst, supernatural... stuff ::blink:: and, uh... weird ghostliness

~*~

Beliefs

by Kat-chan

You stand and stare for longer than you should, the rain pouring down around you. You're soaked and shivering, but you don't move. You just stand there. And you stare. Because you still can't believe it. You remember it *oh* so clearly... but you can't believe it. You can still see the rusty coloured bath water- the dilluted crimson that he was floating in. You can still see the knife, lying on the tile floor, stained. You can still smell the fresh blood...

And you can still see his face. You remember the tears that rolled down your cheeks, and the sobs that wracked your body. You made it there first- before his parents, or his brothers, or his sister. You stumbled into the bathroom, and stared, for a very long moment, before your knees gave out beneath you and you fell, crumbling as the overwhelming grief hit you like a ton of fucking bricks.

Believe it.

He's gone.

The one... The *only* one...

...who ever cared about you. He's gone. Just... like... that. And there's nothing you could do but blame yourself. And for what? You know it's not your fault. You don't want to admit it- because admitting it would make you feel like you didn't care- but you know it. So you go on, blaming yourself as you stand and stare, disbelieving.

Believe it.

Read the headstone. That's *his* name. And no matter how long you stare at it, the name on that stone will not change. You won't see his smile again, save for the few pictures he ever let you take. The ones that you keep beside your bed, and on your dresser. And maybe, the occasional flash, over your shoulder, when you're fixing your hair in the mirror and you could swear- if only for a second- that he was sitting on the foot of your bed, laughing... like everything was back to normal.

But it wasn't ever truly normal, so what have you got to complain about? You don't believe it, anyway. He can't be dead. He can't be gone. Tell yourself that as much as you like. It's the truth.

Believe it.

Because no matter what you say or do, it won't ever be the same. The smiles, the laughter... they're gone. The soft touches, and gentle caresses, gone with them. That cozy feeling of waking up with him tucked under your arm, body warm... breath shallow and even...

That's all gone too. It's all gone. Your life... is empty. As empty as his eyes were when you found him. When you cried, and screamed, and shook him and demanded that he wake up. You knew he wouldn't wake up, though. He'd nearly put the knife *through* his wrist... You're sure that he was damning his bones for being in the way.

You knew *then* that he was already gone- then, when you were still hysterical- so why can't you believe it now? Why do you keep staring at that tombstone? Why are your eyes emotionless and glazed over? Why are your hands trembling?

If only you could hear him begging you, when you finally turn away. When you finally leave the depressing, old cemetery, and start home. The rain is still falling heavily, and you're still soaked, but that's all very far from your mind. If only you could see him, now- if only you knew that it was *him* tugging on your sleeve, not just the wind...

Believe it.

He's kneeling on the floor sobbing as you inspect that knife. He's screaming at you, begging you not to as you run one finger along the sharp edge of the blade. He's beginning to die again as he watches that first drop of crimson splash soundlessly on your carpeted floor. Just as you began to die when you stumbled into his bathroom, that day...

He cries silently, now, as you turn to the mirror. He cries silently, watching you watch yourself, and for a moment, you think that you see his face, and his tears. But, after all, that's just your mind playing tricks on you. You feel the odd warmth surround you as he draws you into a tight embrace, and you let out only a choked sob as you press the blade to your own throat.

He collapses with you, and once you've hit the ground, he's pounding on your chest with invisible fists, swearing and screaming, and telling you how much he fucking hates you, because *dammit* he *loves* you.

And then you open your eyes, and you see him.

Believe it.

~fin~

Short. Sad. Strange.

Yup, my work here is complete... Review, please.