I shouldn't be starting a new story now. I already have three incomplete ones. But it appears inspiration is an inconveniencing bitch. She wouldn't leave me the hell alone until I started typing. I shouldn't post it, but my ego demands it. I think they're working together. Little bastards. Anyway, I hope you like it.

And now the story.

More Than Wrong ********

I died a horrible and painful death today. My soul was ripped from my body by Fate's cold, cruel hands. My blood is now ice. My heart, an obsidian stone. I am broken and bleeding, overwhelmed with pain no one could possibly comprehend. And yet my life goes on. I still live and breathe. My heart still beats though I wish it didn't. My life goes on. Why? Why do I live while he dies? Why wasn't I taken, too?

"Is something wrong, Will?" my boss asks ignorantly. "What did that police officer want?"

Yes! I want to scream. My world was just destroyed by a sixteen-year- old kid. I'd say something is more than wrong.

"I just found out my best friend died." I reply quietly. "I'll need some time off."

"Geez. Of course. Take all the time you need." He says sympathetically. "You can leave now if you want."

"Thank you, sir." I say, standing and gathering my things.

"Call me if you need anything." He says, placing a hand on my shoulder.

You couldn't possibly give me what I need.

"I will, sir." I reply. He pats me gently on the shoulder then walks away to continue his life. Not knowing that I'm a torn and broken man. Not knowing that my reason for living is no longer living. "Oh God, Alex." I whisper brokenly. I'd better leave before I breakdown in my office in full view of my co- workers. They probably have a rule against that.

Alex. My beautiful Alex is gone.

I'm running through the building now. Trying to reach the outside. He loves-loved being outside. He loved the blue of the sky, the white of the clouds, all the myriad of colors that surrounded you when you're outside. He died outside, surrounded by those colors.

Down the stairs, into the lobby, and finally outside. The same outside that watched him die.

I have to keep running. If I stop I'll have to feel the pain. I'll have to accept that he's gone. I can't do that. I can never do that. My life, my love, my happiness will go with him when I accept. I can't accept. I must never accept. So, I run.

I can feel my heart beating, and I rejoice in it. Because if my heart is beating then he is alive because my heart only beats for him. I run harder so my heart will beat faster and stronger. I ignore the tears running down my face because they are tears of joy not pain. They have to be.

I've run all the way home, and I don't know how. My home is miles from work. I frantically search through my pockets for my keys. I want to get inside to see him, to see his smile and hear his voice. Finally finding them I unlock the door and throw it open.

"Alex!" I call. "Alex! Where are you?"


Reality comes crashing down, and my life, my love, and my happiness is crushed beneath it.



I can't believe I wrote that. Review please. I've never written anything like that.

-- A.H.