Oneshots

Guardian Angel

well...this one might be fun to do as a two shot.

but idk.

oh well.

love you, if you're reading.

-heart-

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My feet dangle over the rim of the roof.  Beneath my Converse, the people hurrying below are just little blobs, nothing more than an ant. 

I could crush them if I wanted.  I could step on them and end it all.  I could ruin all their hopes and destroy all their dreams.

If I was evil, I could kill.

However, right now, my place is up here, observing and watching as they carry on their unimportant lives.  Nobody would look up, unless I gave them reason to.  I’m hidden in the shadows.  Up here, I’m safe from everybody except myself.

I can’t escape the one person I’m running from.

I drop a pebble.  It lands just inches away from a woman, but if she saw it, she doesn’t let on.  I watch her walk away as if I wasn’t there.  If she did, she’d look right through me.  I’d just be that kid with the rips in his jeans and the sweatshirt sleeves that hang too far over his well-kept hands.  To her I’m just the boy with the hair always falling into his face no matter how many times he brushes it back; the one that doesn’t have ears or eyes or a forehead. 

If you can’t see it, then it doesn’t exist.

It’s taken me sixteen years to figure out something most people are born knowing.

Maybe that’s why I’m me.

I was born missing something in my brain, the part that tells me to like sports and boobs and wanting to attack everything in sight.  I lack the genetics that make me a typical boy.

Instead I got stuck with a dangerous attraction to the same sex and an uncontrollable desire to touch myself to two men messing around.

When two guys have sex, it’s gay.  It’s wrong, and they’re labeled “fags” or “fairies” or “queer”.  If it’s two girls, then it’s hot.

Society is incredibly fucked up.

I push another rock off the rooftop.  I send it to its death. 

It’s murder, but feels like suicide.

I imagine being that rock, flying through the air, free, until I hit the ground with a sickening splat.  Two seconds of ecstasy for a permanent fate.  It’s why people do drugs.  They know it will kill them- yet that moment of intense pleasure draws them in.  Humans crave an altered state of mind.

There’s scuffing on the gravel behind me, and I whip around.

A boy stands, with black hair touching his shoulders and a ripped t-shirt that clings to his exposed ribs.  Eyeliner tears drip from his eyes.

He’s come to jump.

“You can’t stop me,” he tells me with a quivering voice; he’s not even convinced himself.

I pat the ledge beside me.  “Just come and sit awhile, the sun feels fine.”

He shows surprise and takes the seat.  His thigh brushes my own.  “Sorry.”

“It’s no worry.  What brings you up here?”

“Um…”

I look him over.  “Let me guess, bullying.  You’re gay.”