Love Kills (Dnf Short Story)

Animosity

When Nick and I arrived back at our hotel. The gloom followed. The tan walls and off white trim seemed to grey out and the white cloudy sky that shone through the window only made the room sadder. The misty ocean picture hanging on the wall seemed to bring me an odd sort of anger instead of peace and the empty kitchen made me irritated. Nick undressing into his pajamas as if nothing happened was my last straw.

"I'm going to shower, I think." I told him while grabbing my own sweats and new boxers from my luggage bag. My throat stung bitterly as it rasped out those words, pain and embarrassment coming with it. He just threw me a nod over his phone and I threw him an eye roll back. If I had to explain why I was so agitated, I couldn't. I simply was just mad.

I entered the suite's bathroom and looked up and down at myself in pure disgust in the mirror. My hair was wet from the rain outside, it's once bright blonde a somber dusty brown. My eyes had dark circles that one could mistake for black eyes (that could explain my anger tonight; the lack of sleep). I had taken my black suit jacket off when I entered the hotel room, leaving me in a white button up which I had sadly stained with dirt after falling. Disappointed, I sigh and start unbuttoning the shirt. I've never been one to be self conscious, but with already feeling terrible, I can't help but feel irritated with the slight weight I've gained. It really wasn't that much, but tonight I saw it. Instantly my grumbling stomach shuts up.

Once fully undressed, I head into the shower, heat beating down on my back making steam rise from my freckled arms. The heat threatened to make my skin welt and redden in discomfort. I wince as my cold skin turns hot and stings just as bad as a wasp.

The heat will make the pain go away, right?

----

The next couple of days were the worst. The plane flight was terribly silent as Nick and I decided to go back to our separate places for a month or so (although I completely regret that now). The guy who sat by me for the eight plus hour flight was a gross unhealthy smoker who's snores sounded like a hurling cat and the baby on the plane couldn't and wouldn't stop crying for hours at a time. As much as I wanted to chuck a book I had in my day bag at the mother, I kept myself under control.

I remember briefly crying in the bathroom as I got stuck In my head again. Thinking about how I could have done something to help George. How it was my fault I didn't see anything the day prior. However, I tiredly got myself pulled together and exited the bathroom.

After the plane, I yelled at an older woman with silver hair for taking my luggage by accident. Her face went pale after I tugged at my bag and asked her to let go rather angrily. I shouted after she didn't let go in a few seconds. My vision blurred and my eyes watered when I felt a slap come across my face. She had slapped me in the face for getting too close and angry at her for such a simple mistake. The slap must have woken me up a little as I backed up and blinked a bit before repeatedly saying sorry.

I'm shocked at myself since I've never been that aggressive or rude to someone like that before. What the fuck had gotten into me?

----

That night I didn't get a single blink of sleep. Constantly replaying my last day with George over and over again. Trying to seek out any sign that could have shown he was going to end his life the following day. It pained my heart when I remembered one statement he had said to me, "I'm thinking about taking a break, y'know? Work's getting a little too much. The popularity and such." I had just passed him off. I was all like, "Yeah, it can be like that sometimes. You just gotta push through."

That was when I heard his last laugh. His sweet little giggle. One that would be ingrained into my head for all eternity. Even though his laugh was so beautiful to me that day, I completely would have rathered that he cried in my arms and told me everything, and I mean everything that he'd been going through.

My only wish would be to hear his laugh one more time.

-------------

Two Weeks Later...

My body at this point was beginning to shut down. I hadn't slept or eaten anything since the funeral. I wish I could bring myself to eat, push myself harder.

I can't sleep due to the guilty thoughts that take laps around my brain. It's like my brain is distracting me from reality with these little races. I know George didn't want this to come from his death. I know he would've wanted me to be happy. But how can I be happy when the only person I've truly loved with every single drop of my heart's blood is gone. Forever.

I can feel my hands shake while I play video games for content, for my job. I wonder if my viewers can tell something's off. They are completely unaware of George's death and it hurts every single time I see something like 'Where's George?' or a dramatic 'DId GeoRgE dIE?!' but of course they don't know any better. How could they?

I can't even scroll through twitter without crying. Seeing fanart or a simple picture of him only days before his death sends my stomach through loops and my head to a void.

Nick has tried to contact me, checking to see if I'm alright, but I can only bring myself to talk about our jobs with him, however. I wish I could talk to him, or anyone, but I'm scared no one will understand. I send him a 'I'm fine' just so he leaves me be. I know he's worried about my mental health, but I am too. I feel as if I've lost complete control over myself. I just can't control it anymore. My head spins and my body aches when I try. I'm trying, but I want it gone.

I want to be empty, numb, and gone.

----

I haven't eaten in what feels like an eternity. Not really sure why, but I simply don't feel the need to do so anymore. Sometimes, I feel my body quiver with every step I take. Yet I simply ignore and move on with whatever I was set on doing. Everytime I take a breath it stings. I assume it's from crying, but... When was the last time I've cried?

I've completely blocked myself from Nick or anyone else who's tried to contact me recently (including my own family).

I've completely stopped trying, too. My once clean and organized office now lies covered in dust and notes. My bedroom is even worse. Messy as clothes littered the ground like a beach of the homeless. It doesn't help me either, when my curtains are always closed and I never bother to turn on the light.

I'm scared to fall asleep now. Worried that if I do, I might never wake up. Frightened that I'll have nightmares that will haunt me for years. I don't know how I haven't just passed out unconscious, though. I literally lie in bed all day, everyday. Yet, sleep never threatened to come over me. Not once. I feel terrible and overwhelmed with never-ending thoughts. Although, I can't help but forget the last time I've actually thought of myself.

Is this how George felt?