Murder The Moment [BoyXBoy]

.:8:.

"Vic?" My voice quivered, as I knocked on the said man's door. The rooms were not locked up, as it was the middle of the day, but I did not want to invade his personal space. Privacy was important to everyone here. A barely-audible grunt came from inside and I took that as an invitation to let myself in.

"What do you want?" Vic huffed, not moving from his position on the bed. He lay face-down, with his head was buried in the pillow and I found it slightly difficult to understand what he was saying, as his words were muffled.

"You didn't get any breakfast," I stated hesitantly, approaching his desk and taking a seat on the provided wooden chair, but sitting very stiffly.

"I didn't feel like it." The man finally lifted his head and peered at me with a blank expression, which I concluded to be one of the scariest things in the world. With Vic, it was good to know what he was thinking; if you didn't...well, then you had a problem.

Also, dark circles cocooned his deep eyes and it looked like he had not slept in days even though it was surely no more than one. Why was he so miserable? Was it the realisation that his life would be messed up right until the end? - I had that moment a couple of nights ago and spent the entire time trying to breathe and control the mental breakdown I was having. Maybe it was something I did, which did not surprise me in the slightest. I always found a way to fuck things up.

"Why not?" I pushed, not sure if this was a good idea or not. Vic did not seem like the person who would be comfortable with talking about his feelings. Then again, I never expected Vic to actually be a cool guy who was fun to hang out with. He was like a book, which would reveal its pages one by one until it finally broke the seal and fully opened up. However the last part could never even happen, with someone as stubborn as him.

"Just go away," he avoided my question, but I knew that he did not fully mean what he was saying. "I want to be alone."

"Why did you leave, all of a sudden, yesterday?" My eyebrows knitted together, as I changed the subject.

"I was tired."

"Liar," I accused. "Now tell me what is on your mind. I promise not to laugh or interrupt."

"I just..." I could tell that he was about to crack and spill everything to me like a waterfall of sentences. "I hate guitars and I hate music and I hate people and I hate my family and I hate drugs and I hate guns and I hate... I hate you!"

I flinched at his last outburst. Now I was really questioning Vic's sanity, because what he said were the words of someone with an abnormal psyche and a wild imagination. But his rant was not finished yet.

"I hate that you make me forget and it makes me feel really guilty afterwards, because I'm not supposed to forget!"

Forget what? Did this even have anything to do with what happened yesterday, or was Vic taking this as an opportunity to go on about the things he despises (the main one apparently being me)? Because this, sure as hell, did not sound like an explanation as to why he rushed off so quickly and ignored me the other day.

Vic's face was painted with a passive-aggressive expression, which made me question him a lot. He was being hateful but, even though he was specifically talking about me, the hate was centred towards himself. And, as puzzled as I was, I did not like it. I would much rather have him hate me than hate himself.

"Maybe it's okay to forget..." I mumbled under my breath, scared to say it any louder.

"But it isn't!" Vic exploded finally getting off the bed and standing on his two feet, facing me as he pulled at his hair in frustration. I stood up too, hating the feeling of being overpowered. It was silent for a few moments, before Vic whispered, "It's just so wrong to forget, after everything that's happened."