Title: That Night
Summary: Kaleb is having the best night of his life, until he meets Wesley. Now he'll just be lucky if he can survive until morning.
Rating: M for explicit sexual content, violence, drug use, and swearing (all the f***ing swearing).
Warnings: M/M (which means two guys doin' it, if you don't like it, don't read it), consensual sex with a minor, drug addiction, graphic violence, and death. If any of these things are triggers for you, please don't read. Or, you know, do, but skip the parts that freak you out.
Disclaimer: All characters belong to me, your author, except for the many pop-culture references. Any resemblance to persons living or dead are purely coincidental (or, you know, maybe a little intentional, but I dare you to prove it! Muahaha!)
I hum as I lay dying. A weird thing to do when you're dying, I know. But what else am I supposed to do? I might as well make it pleasant for myself, for however long I have. This is what it's come to. Lying in a puddle of my own blood, looking up at the slate grey of the sky, squinting at the watery sun that's trying to break through the fog, a fly landing on my cheek, not having enough strength in my arms to swat it away. Just enough strength to keep humming. Heroes by David Bowie. Fitting, really. So this is how it ends, huh? I'd always imagined something more Rock n' Roll. Like being electrocuted by my own guitar. Or being stabbed by an obsessed fan. Yeah. That would've been cool. There's the distant sound of cars passing by on the freeway to my left, like waves breaking against rocks. It's muted now, more like the whooshing sound inside a seashell that everyone always insisted was the sound of the ocean but had always just sounded like wind to me. The only clear sound is my own humming, reverberating in my throat, behind my ears, behind my eyes. All other sounds are dull, lifeless (ha!) in comparison, but even the lonely tune is losing its substance, like cigarette ash in a breeze.
The sad white-blue of the predawn sky is losing its brightness and I don't need to squint anymore. Which is good, since I don't really have the strength to move my eyelids. There's a blackness encroaching on the edges of my vision, a tiredness settling in my heavy limbs and it just feels like I'm falling asleep. A deep, beautiful sleep. That doesn't sound so bad. The blood in the dry grass under my back, under my head, is losing its warmth, or maybe I'm losing the ability to feel the warmth. I can't feel the cold either. When did I stop humming? I don't remember stopping. I guess that's fine. I don't really feel like humming anymore anyway. I don't feel like doing much of anything. I don't feel much at all, really. Or hear. Or see. Am I even breathing? Who cares. I just want to sleep. A long sleep. And I'll wake up refreshed. That's what'll happen. I'll go to sleep and wake up and… He won't be there, will he? No. I suppose he won't. And I won't be there either. It's not sleep. It's death. You fucked up, Kaleb Kotzias. You fucked up big time. He's gone, and it's all your fault. For dying like a bitch on the side of the 101N. There's a sound. Far, far away. So far it must be in outer space. Or maybe I'm in outer space? I can't make out what it is. Maybe it's just more cars. Do cars make whining sounds, like cats? Must be it. A cat. Doesn't matter anymore. The last thing I manage to think before I give in and fall into the gaping chasm of emptiness is I'm sorry. And that's when I died.
A/N: I know, super short. It's only the prologue! For that reason I'm posting the first chapter at the same time. From now on expect weekly updates from me. I'll post every week regardless, but comments are much appreciated (and you'll get free cookies if you do)!