Wings Of Despair - Book 2

Chapter 11

John laid upon his bed. He could barely move. His shoulders ached; his legs were stunned. Everything felt like it hurt. He was in his room – or what was assumed to be his room – everything seemed blurry and dark. He tried to reach for the lamp, but it phased through his palm, as if there was a plain of existence beyond his own. He was dead weight against what he thought was his bed. He closed his eyes, yet he could still see.

Something moved. John's gaze zipped towards the shadow-like figure. It had the form of a human. It just stood there in the corner of his room. As if coordinated, the headlights of a car zoomed past the apartment. Only a small amount of light cracked through the curtains, but it was just enough to reflect the big round glasses that sat on the shadows face. John could recognise those glasses anywhere.

"Greg?"

The shadow continued to stand there. Almost emotionless. John tried to move, it almost seemed like the mattress suffocated him. The shadow noticed this, as it decided to move from its spot in the corner. Once it got close enough, it flicked the lamp on. Pale skin reflected off the yellow-stained light bulb, as locks of dirty blonde hair almost glowed, despite its tangled and muddled state. Bright blue eyes sparkled, the glasses reflecting off them to project along the walls. The green button-up shirt that was too worn out for its own good never felt so relieving to see. The maroon pants from an unknown brand hugged the legs perfectly.

God, he was so breathtaking.

"Greg? You alright, buddy?" John asked again. Greg had been staring into his soul for the last 5 minutes.

Greg moved once again. He heaved his left leg onto the bed, as he planted his palms onto the mattress to pull his right leg up. Once he was on, he began to climb on his fours towards John's resting state. John's face heated up. Greg placed both of his palms on the side of John's head, as he parted his knees to lay beside his hips. He lowered himself to straddle the man, as he lent his face in. Both of their noses touched. Greg lidded his glowing eyes. John held his own breath. Did... Did Greg come back for him? Did Greg miss him too? Greg lent closer, their lips barely touching. He began to whisper against the parted skin.

"I..."

John awaited in anticipation.

"...love..."

John's breath hitched.

"...Yu-"

John almost lent in and connected their lips if Greg hadn't finished his sentence so quickly.

"-to."

John tried to puzzle those words together in his mind. His eyebrows scrunched in confusion.

"Move..."

What did Greg have to say now?

"...on."

Once John had the chance to figure it out through his fogged mind, his entire body shuddered.

'I love Yuto. Move on.'

Fucking Yuto. He hated that man. He took Greg away from him in the span of two weeks. It had taken John years to at least be considered a friend in his eyes. What was the exception with him? John felt too rage-ridden for the man, he didn't notice Greg starting to dissolve. Once he noticed the glow of the room disappear, he tried to reach for Greg. His arms phased through Greg's chest, as it scattered amongst the room like dust.

"Greg!" John begged. "Greg, don't leave me!"

Greg smiled. It was that same fucking smile he gave John before he left the apartment for good.

"Please," John tried to beg again, tears rimmed his eyes. "I've lost everything! You're all I have!"

Greg kept smiling, though his eyes seemed to darken.

"...I'll let fate decide."

Those words seemed to echo deep through his mind, almost making them permanent.

"I won't let fate decide shit!"

"Move on."

Just like that, Greg was gone. John lunged forward, as he tried to grasp what was left of Greg. Alas, there was nothing. He clutched the air tightly against his chest as he squeezed his eyes shut.

...

When John opened his eyes after a moment of sobbing to himself, he squinted from the blistering sun scorching his eyes. He was sat on the side of the road, clothes slightly tattered against his skin. Bri was passed out beside him, curled around a fairly large bag. It was just another nightmare, though he wasn't sure what was real anymore. He glanced towards the apartment he used to call home, far in the distance. They were recently kicked out for missing their payment a couple of weeks ago. It was obvious why. The pair didn't have jobs as well as enough experience to get one in the first place. They both relied on Greg to pay for it whilst they bummed out.

Dread and remorse pulsed through John's veins. He'd let Bri take advantage of him. He had acted so shitty towards Greg for no apparent reason. No wonder he left that shithole and left them for dead. That was when he realised how disgusting he felt, physically and emotionally. He hadn't showered for a good week, he smelt like both his and Bri's sex along his skin. He wanted to vomit. He wanted to scrub every part of his skin off just to get rid of Bri's touch. He felt so fucking used, he loathed it.

After all those years getting as close to Greg as possible, it all went down the drain when he met Bri.

He shouldn't have let Bri talk him in to living with Greg for free. She knew she could take advantage of Greg; everyone knew how quiet and vulnerable he was in high school. Yet John was the only one who took him seriously. Now that he thought about it, John was his only friend throughout high school – he didn't want to think about how Greg was his only friend as well. That thought alone made him feel worse. He was a shitty person. That still didn't change his feelings towards Yuto, he still loathed him. Now he couldn't have the chance to apologise to Greg for what he's done, he doesn't even know where that fucking bitch took him.

John then thought back to the very last time he saw Greg. He was being carried away by Yuto, but he had wings? Impossible. It must had been a jet pack with fake wings, but for what? What was the purpose of putting that much effort just to visually appeal an avian? John decided to stop thinking about it, what mattered was that Yuto – that fucking cunt – had soared away with Greg in his arms. John placed his head in his hands, as he gritted his teeth. Who was in the wrong here? Sure, he was being an asshole and using Greg for money, but it was all from Bri's influence. He didn't mean to be manipulated by her. He just wished he had a proper conversation about his feelings with Greg before he left.

He glanced towards Bri. He could leave right now, leave her for dead as Greg did to them – it was so fucking easy. She absolutely deserved it for using both him and Greg, but something inside him still felt a tug towards her. If he left her, that'd mean he would be alone too. He'd be trying to survive in this painful world alone whilst being homeless. The whole reason he got with Bri was that he wouldn't be alone relationship-wise, now look where that got him. On the side of the road, far away from one of the only reasons he let Bri guilt trip him into a free apartment, Greg.

He was a circus pet in Bri's eyes; a tight collar around his neck, with a chain that connected to Bri's clutched palm. He had no control; he had no choice but to listen to her. He felt disgusted with himself. He wished he never started a conversation with her after they won that annual football game. Maybe, just maybe, his and Greg's relationship would have led down a different route.

Alas, it was too late to change the past. He was now suffering from his consequences because he was too afraid of rejection from the only person he loves. He wished he'd taken the shot, now he was forced to live the rest of his life in doubt and remorse, never knowing how Greg truly felt about him.