Drowning

Smother

Kieren leaned against Rick, as the murmured to each other in their secret cave. It wasn't that comfortable, but it was a nice comfort, a spot just for the two of them. It held so many memories, good and bad, they loved it. It held a meaningful place in Kieren's heart. Rick was flipping through Kieren's sketchbook, admiring all the vast amounts of art.

"You know Ren, you really are talented." He whispered every now and then, tracing every detail of the art with his eyes and commemorating them to memory. Rick loved to look at Kieren's art, thinking it gave a little glimpse into the artist's mind, letting him see for a short moment how the younger one saw the world.

"I'm not that special, they're just some sketches." Kieren yawned, brushing Rick's comment off. He has always struggled with confidence, always denying how incredible he really was. Rick tightened his hold around his waist, pulling him in closer. He set the book aside gently as to not damage the precious thing, reaching a tentative hand up to clasp Kieren's face.

"Ren listen to me, you're art speaks so many volumes and it's just.... You manage to capture so many emotions into a piece and not everybody can do that sort of thing, it's like they almost speak to you. You are so bloody talented Ren, and one day you'll be a famous artist in some place like Paris! You're seriously incredible, never doubt yourself on that Ren, I.....I love you, you know that right?" His eyes never broke contact with Kieren's, pouring all his emotions through them, just wanting this delicate seeming boy to understand how truly perfect he was. Kieren felt his throat clench, mind swimming. He felt dizzy with the intimacy of it all. They both knew there was something between them, something that always skirted along the line of friendship and lover. It was an understanding, it never had to be said. The fact that Rick was admitting it made Kieren feel like his heart was exploding. He reached up and softly wrapped his fingers around the hand that cupped his cheek, trying not to scare Rick off. He smiled shakingly, refusing to break eye contact in fear the spell that was happening would shatter.

"I know Rick, I know." He mumbled out, heart feeling smothered with anxiety, though he didn't quite mind it. He also felt as if he were floating on a cloud, love circling softly around them, cradling their fragile hearts. It was foreign, but welcomed. Rick pulled him back down, the beating from his chest made Kieren feel safe. He felt at peace in that moment, the only sound was the crickets and Rick's gentle puffs of breath. Kieren genuinely believed everything would be okay in that moment. Their safe little world would dissipate though, as they had to separate and go home. A shy desperate kiss, laced with the anxiety of being caught, was left and a promise of seeing each other tomorrow passed between the two not-quite-lovers. That promise was broken, as Rick disappeared. He left without a word of goodbye, leaving Kieren all alone in this world they created, and suddenly it felt so much darker. The cave was just a distant memory now, plagued with sorrow and heartbroken tears shed by a melancholy boy.

The last time in the cave was the worst memory of all. Kieren ran there without a second thought after he heard the news. He couldn't breathe, he felt like water was filling his lungs. Kieren felt the cold clutches of depression grabbing at him, wrapping it's tendrils around him and pulling him down. Rick normally would grab his hand and pull him out of the murkiness, saving him, fighting off the demons with comforting words mumbled into his hair. Rick wasn't here though, so Kieren let himself be swept away and pulled deep into the darkness of that sea.

Kieren shot up in bed, coughing as air rushed back into his body. He was shivering, thoughts of that forlorn night flashing back through his mind. His clammy hand gripped his wrist harshly, staring blankly at the hideous scar that marked his once undamaged skin. Kieren doesn't even remember what his arm looked like without the scars, it was like they were a part of him. They were a constant reminder that he failed. He failed Rick, he failed to stay strong, he failed to die, he failed his family, most of all he failed himself. He flops down back onto the bed, feeling raw of emotions. His mind begged for more sleep, though his heart flared in panic at the thought of those dreams happening again. Kieren knew he wouldn't be going to sleep, fear that Rick and that night would appear again. A glance to the clock showed that it was only 3:07 am. Sighing defeatedly, he knew today would be a sucky day. He was only asleep for an hour, though he really couldn't complain, he was used to this after all. Kieren couldn't remember the last time he actually received a good nights rest. The boy stared up at the ceiling, putting on music to help the time go faster. The soft lyrics of Keaton Henson drifted through his speakers. The lyrics seemed to drift around and wrap around him, seeming to protect him from the painful world. Though, the words seemed to squeeze his heart, making sadness pour from him. It was like he could feel each thump from his chest, one more painful than the other as he drifted through his depression.

"And my body's weak, Feel my heart giving up on me..."

The song seemed the vibrate through his veins, resonating with his soul. He felt as if the song was speaking directly to him, and that fact was a bitter comfort, a gentle shake that he wasn't completely alone in his pain.

Simon felt like he wasn't apart of life, like he was watching some really boring movie. He sat mutely at a table far in the back of the coffee shop, watching as people came and go. He always found it interesting, all these people lead different lives with different experiences and unknown stories. Simon would sometimes people watch and wonder what they were like, how their life was. Today was one of those days. He didn't feel like he was really there, but more of an onlooker in the shop, it felt like he wasn't even real. Sometimes he would try and read his book for his english lit class, but the words would smear and run together, he wasn't able to focus on any of them. Instead, he focused on other people in the shop as he lazily sipped on his earl grey tea. Simon says people, but really it was a boy. He looked around nineteen maybe? He looked to be fighting off drowsiness, as he wordlessly sketched with some charcoal. Simon thought he was beautiful, seeming lost in his own world of creation, not even noticing his drink was rapidly cooling down. Simon looked all over the boy, almost engraving the littlest of details into his brain. Something about the artist was tugging at him, a soft murmur of familiarity resonated off of him. It was an air of an old forgotten friend, though he did not know this boy. He had an inkling the feeling was because he could see they were similar, both knowing the cold grip of reality. It was like he could see how trapped he was, because Simon too knew that struggle. It was a pained soul calling out to another.

When Kieren glanced up, soft brown clashed with icy blue. Simon froze as the delicate beauty made eye contact with him, both looking equally shocked, one from finding somebody staring at him and one from being caught. Simon snapped his head down, pretending to care about the woes of Romeo from his book, wishing death would reach out their welcoming hand and take him at this very moment. Though, Simin's mind wondered over to the glimpse he got of the boy's eyes. They were beautiful. Framed in long eyelashes held a story of sorrow and a spark of innocence, the faintest of dark circles dusted under them and giving a sliver of understanding of the boy's restless nights. Simon felt an echo of understanding, very well acquainted with insomnia.

Kieren blinked, suddenly feeling insecure. He had no idea why such a gorgeous man would be staring so intensely at him like that. Nervousness pooled in the pit of his stomach, subconsciously pulling his sweater sleeves down more. Maybe there was something wrong with him, maybe the man thought he looked peculiar- out of place. Kieren never really seemed to fit anywhere, always unwelcomed, or so he felt. He tried to focus on his sketches, needing to work on a project due for class next week. His creative spell seemed to shrivel up, leaving him to helplessly scratch black lines all over sheets, hoping something would come of it. The only thing he seemed to accomplish was a very harsh drawing of himself as he was frustrated, and a poor excuse of a portrait for that man who was watching him. Giving up, he slumped backwards in defeat. The only thing he was decent at was art, and nothing was coming from it. When he went to go sip on his hot chocolate, he noticed it was cold and just looked sort of sad. Kieren Walker never thought he would relate so much to a drink before, being how it was cast away and long forgotten. With that thought in mind, he packed up his supplies, and made his way out.

Simon was enraptured in a book of poems he brought along, the Romeo and Juliet story discarded. He had forgotten about the lonely looking boy, caught up in the beautiful words of Yeats and the sorrowful sonnets of heartbreak. Kieren had thrown away the rough sketch of the man with the blue eyes, feeling as though it was so bad it didn't belong a place in his book of sketches. Along with the page, the thoughts of Simon all together were abandoned. The boy swamped in sweaters and sadness seemed to disappear in the crowd, blending into everyone else, as the man in love with poetry blurred with the bustle of a busy coffee shop.