2015
"You take the full, full truth, and you pour some out!"
"Jerome, you honestly sound as if you're singing the hokey pokey."
He'd been singing American Beauty/American Psycho for the past hour, and it's finally starting to annoy me. The song was good the first ten times, though.
"He's an American Beauty! I'm an American Psycho!" Jerome yelled, running downstairs to find me in my office and pointing at me as he repeated himself.
"I'm not even American," I mumble.
"Okay, then, you're my Canadian Beauty."
"Wouldn't your Beauty be Louise?" I ask, unable to keep the bitterness out of my voice.
"No. You're mine, Mitch. Remember Merome?"
Of course. Its still around. The fans keep it here, and it hurts like hell.
"How could I not?" Try as I might, I couldn't keep my voice light.
"Mitch..."
Jerome walks over to me, resting one arm on either shoulder and laying his chin on top of my head, watching as I edited my newest Hunger Games.
"Did you take too much cough medicine?" Jerome asked, making a quiet, joking reference to the song.
"No, I didn't. I just fell in love."
····
2016
Jerome pulled away from the kiss, and Mitch buried his face in the younger's chest to hide his flustered look.
Why does he does that to me?
"Aww, Mitchy, you can look at me."
Jerome's voice was almost breathless, still trying to catch up. If anything, it only made him more toxic to Mitch.
"Come on, my Canadian Beauty. Look at your American Psycho."
"You're still hung up on that song?" Mitch asked, slowly lifting his head to catch Jerome's gaze.
"No. I just thought it would remind you of the day I asked you out."
····
2017
I let the tears fall, gripping the stone. He was gone. Six foot under.
"J-Jerome. Aye love ya."
"You sound like a fucking pirate, Mitch. How many beers did you have?"
"Thiiiiiiiis many."
The scream of the tires. The glass shattering. The cries to get out before the bomb blew.
He wasn't fast enough, alcohol dragging at his limbs
I should have helped him. I could have picked him up and ran with him.
But I didn't.
And now he was dead.
Saltwater drops landed on the grave, rolling down the stone, spreading into the carved words.
Mitchell Hughes
1994-2017
My Canadian Beauty
"And I'm your American Psycho..."
YOU ARE READING
Take A Walk With Me (One-Shots and More)
RandomThis is a relic. I do not think that anything published in here reflects who I am today or how I currently write. I realize that I was cringey and not great, even though I thought I was fantastic. How this is #1 in anything, I do not understand. How...
