Bumblebee [DNF]

16 II Would the world be so kind, to have one last dance

(This chapter will have suicidal thoughts and attempts. Do not read if you aren't comfortable with this. Know you are loved, dear reader, if not be society then by the world)

Clay woke up, shaking pathetically. His eyes wavered and he felt horrible.

His stomach was numb yet if he were to feel it with his fingertips, he would be greeted with a smile by his own pain.

When he finally got the courage to stand, he looked at his surroundings and found out where he was.

On a rooftop. It looked abandoned, the only things remaining were pots of old and withered plants.

Though near the door, he swore he saw a guitar, laying there with a closed journal right next to it.

The edges of the rooftop held barriers so anyone couldn't supposedly jump right off.

But nobody cared. And nobody ever will.

He pressed his elbows against the cold metal and looked down. It was quite a long way's down. The cars and people looked like tiny ants in his view.

It looked as if he was staring down with absolute power in his grip, with perhaps a book that decided life or death, and he would pick and choose fortune from the people who inhabited his home.

Home. What a wonderful word that meant so much.

In reality, he needn't knew where home was.

What was home? A place where your family rested and laid until their dying days, where your loved ones belong, where you belong.

But Clay didn't feel like he belonged in a bundle of smashed bottles and harmful words.

He wanted to belong elsewhere, somewhere that was anywhere then here.

He looked up at the vast sky above and wondered just how could something so beautiful brings life to something so horrendous.

The sky was of the limit, they say, and what it did to the people that bore it with pride in their warped eyes was unimaginable, wether good or bad.

Clay looked down, and placed his hand to his chest. There, he felt his beating heart.
His shattered heart.

The heart that was torn between life and death.

Thoughts started to swarm in his mind. He was better off dead, wasn't he? He wasn't meant for this world, he was just something others used to get out their anger, their emotions, and that was all.

He was nothing. The world made it clear enough.

Even his mind hated the thought of him.

Perhaps even George kept him around just because he felt bad for the poor boy with a horrendous home life.

...It was a horrible life to live, when nobody cared for your existence.

Without truly knowing what he was doing, he climbed on the rails and sat on top of them.

His eyes trailed the road laid out below him. He was quite high up, he was.

What if he jumped? His eyes were grey and lifeless, the emerald stare he once bore was nothing more then a dark void of his own sadness.

He didn't say a single word, as he stood up and leaned off the side, his hands still gripping onto the rails.

That's when he heard it. A small click, the door opening, announcing the arrival of someone else.

Clay was quick to turn his head, and was met with the brown stare of a stranger. He looked quite startled at his presence, as did Clay.

He stared straight at the strangers eyes and he felt a small familiar feeling in his chest.

His heart pounded with realisation. George. His bumblebee. What was he thinking? What was he doing here? Why was he on the edge? George would miss him dearly, how could he be so selfish?

"Hey, kid." The man spoke wearily, his brown locks falling on his eyes. "Your too close to the edge, come over here, it's safer. What's wrong? I'll do my best to listen."

Clay looked straight at him, thoughts running through his mind. George would miss him. George wouldn't want this.

He had to be there for him. He had to be there to see his best friend, his lover, recover.

He couldn't leave him alone in a scary world.

Almost instinctively, he took a step back. That's when he realised he wasn't on solid ground.

He was stepping on air. The boy pulled his hands away to try and capture the rails.

But they were too out of reach, and he fell.

"Oh my fucking god." He heard the man yell. "TECHNO! TECHNO COME HERE, QUICK!"

Clay felt a breeze run it's fingers through his hair, his clothes, his jacket playing with the wind. He felt so light, like a bird soaring through the sky.

Tears laced the corners of his eyes, and they fell, high into the sky.

He didn't want to die. He didn't want to leave all what mattered behind.

A voice was whispering in his ear. Don't cry, child. You'll be alright. Sleep. Let the stars take care of you. Rest, my child.

It became all too much for the young blond. And with so much pressure, he shut his eyes, grabbed a fistful of hair in his grip, and fell with a loud thud on the ground.

———

The last goodbye - Billy Boyd : https://youtu.be/r4j_kCQ4f2Q

- twig