|Kiss It Better
Author: WickedSong PM
One shot story heavily based on and inspired by the song Kiss It Better by He Is We. Rated T for death, blood and violence.Rated: Fiction T - English - Tragedy/Romance - Words: 1,621 - Reviews: 1 - Favs: 3 - Published: 04-07-11 - Status: Complete - id: 2905786
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Kiss It Better
Written by WickedSong
Disclaimer/Note : This song was heavily, heavily inspired by the lyrics of 'Kiss It Better' by He Is We, which is why this is a disclaimer. I've taken the song and put it into short story form. I discovered this band two days ago and have listened to almost all of their songs already. This one really stood out to me as one of the best and from it this was born. If you are reading this, I highly suggest doing so while listening to that song.
He was a smart man. He was a respected man. He had his whole life in front of him.
But everything can change, can't it? You can wake up as yourself and then go to sleep as someone different, as only a shell of who you used to be.
These changes aren't long term, these changes aren't something you become prepared for, something you can adapt yourself with.
No, these changes take place at the happiest times, times which you can't think about because they are marked with undeniable sadness. It's these times where you realise how far you would go because of someone who you love.
It's how far he realised he could go.
"Come on, we should go home now," she had told him, pulling his arm as they walked down the street.
She was laughing though, smiling in that cute, unbelievably adorable way so he didn't listen.
"It's a lovely night, why shouldn't we stay out a little longer?" the man asked as she walked beside him. He put his arm around her shoulder. It was a lovely night but it still was early September and that unmistakable chill was making its way into the air.
She put her head on his shoulders and gave a 'hmm' noise, contemplating what he had said in a joking way, before she agreed, "Alright, fair enough."
They walked like that in their contented silence for a couple of minutes, and he found that it was these moments he cherished the most. It was the way that they could walk in silence without needing words that made him sure this was the real deal. He was only twenty-four and he had already found the love of his life.
He was sure of it.
She stopped walking for a moment, smiling to herself, looking over at something. He followed her gaze and was surprised to see that they had subconsciously managed to walk to the old park, the one where they had met, where they had had their first date, their first kiss, and where he had proposed a matter of months ago.
"Look the swings are still there," she said in wonder, as she walked into the park, dimly light by the streetlights. She sat on one of the swings.
He smiled. Her child-like wonder was something he would always find endearing and so he followed her and stood in front of the swing.
"Push me?" she asked, placing her hands on the chains of the swing, grinning.
He nodded. "Your wish is my command," he laughed.
Her face changed before he could move, the air became colder, his world was dimmed forever as a shot was heard, flying through the air. She sat on the swing, her eyes wide, one hand off a chain and on her stomach, hand over it until she pulled it away and he saw it.
Blood. Lots of it. Red sticky stuff all over her stomach, the bullet no where to be seen, obviously still in her. Oh God no, he thought, no, no, no.
There was a blur and a man ran by, dropping the gun in a haste. He looked quickly to the woman, still on the swing, still clutching her stomach which continued to bleed and bleed but he didn't stop, he kept running.
Staring back at his love the other man took her in his arms as she still looked shocked, blood all over her hand. She was in physical pain as he moved her so she was lying down, him cradling her body, but he knew it would make it easier for her in the long run.
"Stay with me, alright, stay with me," he told her forcefully. "I'm going to phone some help, I'm going to phone and you'll be-" He stopped rummaging around for the phone he had left at home, when she spoke up.
"Kiss me," she asked quietly, breaking him off, her hand trying to reach his cheek but her strength fading fast and so causing it to fall limply at her side, "before it's too late." she added, as she moved the hand until it found his own, which had fallen to his knee.
He shook his head. "It'll never be too late, you hear me. We have our whole lives." He was saying it and saying it to her, as he moved her hair, and she smiled. He took her hand and put it in front of her face so she could see it, the engagement ring. "This ring. This ring represents that."
"Please, I don't have long," she said, her voice growing so quiet, so away from him. "Just kiss it all better."
"No, no, I'm not-"
"I'm scared," she admitted. "I don't want to go."
"I don't want you to go either."
The admission did two things. It made him cry, real tears blurring his vision, making everything barely visible. It also opened his eyes, opened his eyes to what he had been denying. He couldn't accept it.
Only two minutes ago everything had been perfect.
Now the love of his life was dying in his arms.
This wasn't right, it just wasn't.
"I...love...you," she said, the words coming out anguished and he felt her body go still.
"I love you too," he said, quietly, placing his head close to hers, kissing her lips and forehead, her body cold, still, not living.
It was at this moment that he turned his head and he caught sight of the gun, still lying there, not being used, not being used to turn someone else's entire world on its head, not being used to ruin another life.
Well, it would.
"I'll make that coward pay," he said to himself and to her, reluctantly getting to his feet and taking the gun. Don't, his mind said, if she was alive she wouldn't want you to do it.
She's not alive though, another voice in his head said, taunting him, she's dead, dead because of that man, because of him. He ran.
The first voice didn't stand a chance now.
The second had won out, the man giving into the idea of revenge.
He held the gun tighter in his hand, running and running down many streets, many alleyways, following the blood stains that the other man would have had on his shoes. Her blood. The man doing the chasing may have been the one who stayed with her in her final moments, may have been the one with her blood splattered over his clothing but the man who had shot the gun had her blood on his hands forever.
The thought that he would have to live with killing another human, that he would avenge her death by killing someone else and having the same guilt he would have didn't cross his mind, not even when he spotted the man, not even when he ran towards him, not even when the other man turned his back, not even when he stood and pulled the trigger, the bullet flying straight through his heart.
It didn't occur to him even when the man died instantly.
Now the realisation comes to him when he's sitting in his prison cell. He's twenty-five now, changed from before. No longer does he have a bright dream to be a top doctor, no longer does he have respect from anyone, no longer does he have something to live for.
The bullet to the back of that man, right to his heart, did nothing but make him end up here. It doesn't bring her back because he's found out that no amount of fury and bullets could bring her back.
Nothing could bring her back.
He was a man with the world to see, a world to discover, a twenty-five year old man and if he's lucky he won't be a fifty year old man until he can rejoin it.
He won't be a part of the world anyway.
He blames himself.
"Come on, we should go home now."
"Stay with me," he pleads.
He should have said, "Yes, let's go home."
If he had said that, it would never have happened.
He closes his eyes, knowing well enough that the dream will start again, the dreams of her falling, bleeding, the man running, and then his own killing.
He remembers her plea.
"Just kiss it all better."
"Stay with me, please!" he cries, before the dreams take over and his reality becomes his nightmare, the nightmare he'll be living for the rest of his life.
Like I said it's the song in the form of a short story, just expanding on it and I, in no way own the song or take credit for it, all goes to He Is We. All I did was listen to it a million and one times and write this.
Review if you wish, :)