artist's goodbye // ten one shot

𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐒𝐓'𝐒 𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐁𝐘𝐄

tiles, mirror, bathtub.

there stood the artist, in his baggy black cargo pants with colorful, intricate designs on his large white t-shirt. his favorite outfit. phone in one hand with his messages open, a bag in the other hand.

THE homosapiens 🙄🤚
last online 1hr ago

tenoverten
hey dudes. i don't even
know how to start this
haha. all of life have given
me for the last years have
been really shitty and i'm
so thankful for you all.
even if y'all are annoying
asf, you've made my life
worth living. i've just really
been in the negative,
for what, like 2 years?
like y'all know, i'm
abroad, away from my
family. my dance crew isn't
very fond of me being gay
and my motivation is and
been draining out.
my sleeping is just fucked.
all i want to do is hide away
and not face life. i can't do it
anymore. i really can't. i've
tried so hard. therapy isn't
helping either. i'm so sorry.
i guess this is a goodbye?
thank you so so much
for everything.
i love each and every one of you.
i won't break my promise,
the one we made about
being friends forever :)
i'm still watching over
you guys, don't be like
me and live your full life.

your one and only,
lee ten

after sending his message, he immediately switched over to his playlist. he didn't want to see the responses, he didn't want them to stop him, he have made his decision.

Volume: ▁▂▃▄▅▆▇▉

a song starts to play, resonating the loud, soothing rhythm around the four thin walls.

he finally placed down his phone on the marble counter, the last moments the cold metal could ever be held in ten's slim hand.

thud. the plastic bag dropped. the contents inside bounced and knocked against each other, then being pushed away by the force.

stepping sluggishly to the bathtub, his cold hands touch the as-cold faucet, twisting it to the right side.

water came falling slowly, the thin stream starting to cover the tub's floor then began to inch up.

water. a substance that could freely move in the vast space, only to be trapped by the marble wall of the tub. huh. ain't it familiar to the spaced-out male.

snapping out of his daze, ten hunched over the previously dropped bag, pulling out two solid-colored bath bombs. a yellow and a blue. the compressed power easily came out of their mold and dropped into the tub. the colors spread and some mixed, creating green.

he stood up, lightly dragging his body back to the counter, in front of his mirror.

he once saw a happy kid brushing his teeth with his mom watching over him. he once saw a kid trying to comb his own hair. he once saw a passionate teenager dancing in late night. he once saw an upset teenager running and locking himself in. but now, he saw a grown man with dark circles under the eyes. he saw a man with messy hair. he saw a tired, very tired man.

he reached his delicate hand up to the cupboard. wrapping his fingers around the handle and pull the storage space open. that same hand reached in and pulled out a small, plastic container. he stared down at the object in his hand before opening the container and pulling out the thin metal. the oh so familiar blade.

inhale
.
.
.
exhale

slash.

the cut was quick, but more was to come. each cut was paired with a reason. the first was for the misunderstanding in his early kindergarten life. his hands moved swiftly, grazing yet another cut over the pale skin. second cut, the betrayal of his best friend. and then the third, failed job interview. then the fourth, the fifth, the sixth. one cut after another, blood began spilling out. the luscious bright red was, in no doubt, beautiful.

before he could even notice, a single tear trail down his face. the twentieth, the twenty first, the twenty second, the twenty third. the painful memories coming back. the hurt. the guilt. the regret. his heart is hurting even more. more than it had ever been. it's overwhelming. he have pushed the memories down and decided it was best to forget. but it all came running back. everything was at edge, threatening to fall over. to come crashing down. another tear fell. the thirty seventh, the thirty eighth, the thirty ninth. his legs became weak. too weak to carry the weight. to carry the always-running brain. to carry the heavy upper limbs. to carry his pathetic soul. the forty fourth, the forty fifth, the forty sixth.

the once clean, pale skin was now filled with horizontal and vertical cuts. the grid-like pattern starts from the wrist and dragged to the inner elbow. fifty two cuts.

cling. the blade dropped flatly on the tiled floor. his hand dripping with blood. his face tear stained. his white t-shirt splattered with red.

light footsteps led its way towards the already filled bathtub, the faucet still running. one foot in, the hot water surrounded his barefoot along with the hem of the black trousers. another foot in. his foot already used to the water temperature. the yellow and blue looks gorgeous, swirling and swimming around, dying the clear water with its hues.

yet it wasn't complete. the color trio. yellow, blue, what comes next? red.

ten sat on the marble bottom tub, sinking his carved inner forearm under the water. the red hue spread into the water, expanding and reaching out to the pre existing colors. orange and purple surfaced to the top. it was the most magnificent sight one could ever seen.

the bright tint twirled. extensive and transmit-able. but water is water. it will eventually, and unfortunately, evaporate. a bright life will come to an end one way or another. like gold being dug up and torn away from its place underground. like pretty flowers getting picked and sold. all things must come to an end and it was ten's turn.

the said boy sank, sank, and sank. the water was overflowing the bathtub. it stung. it stung a lot. the chemicals of the bath bombs invading the open cuts. but it felt good.

the melody of the current song was wistful and dreamy. and for once, ten was at peace. his heart felt light. and his desire for fashion was fulfilled, being dressed in his favorite fit. he passed the way he wanted to. surrounded by art. and before everything stopped, dings were heard. messages after messages were being spammed. but it was too late now. ten smirked his last smirk. took his last breath. felt the last sting. enjoyed his final moments. then everything disappeared to nothingness.

oh to be one with art.