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Éphémère
Me posting two angsty stories in a row? More likely than you think. Thought up this idea last night with “Afterglow”. Hope you enjoy this little thing! Oh, this contains depictions of drug abuse and a major character’s death. If you don’t like that stuff, don’t read.
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It was another night ruined by insomnia. Usually, John dreaded these nights because he usually alone with his own dreadful thoughts. But tonight was different. Tonight, his lovely boyfriend, Toby, accompanied John. They sat in their shared bedroom, Toby leaning his head on John's chest and John holding him.
At 4-in-the-morning, the couple resorted to hosting a spelling bee between the two. “Okay, smart guy. Spell Éphémère," John butchered the pronunciation of the French word. Toby stared at him in confusion, “The fuck does that even mean?” The platinum-haired man looked up the definition and read it word-for-word. “Lasting for a very short time. Or it’s a plant, take your pick.”
Toby laughed, “May I get it in a sentence, please?” John stopped for a second and rubbed his chin, appearing deep in thought. “Okay. I’m asking you to spell Éphémère," they both burst out in laughter at the level of sass. Once they calmed down, Toby said, "Y’know, you could’ve did something cute there, but you chose the sarcastic route.” This time, John stared at Toby quizzically.
“You could have been like, ‘Our love is the opposite of Éphémère,' or some dumb shit like that.” Toby nuzzled closer into his lover's chest. A shit-eating grin made its way onto John's face, “Nah, that would've been too predictable. I need to keep you on your toes, babe.” John wrapped his arms around the man's figure.
They both fell asleep with smiles on their faces before Toby could attempt spelling the word.
John slowly lifted his eyelids and quickly regretted it, sunlight harshly burning his red eyes. He brought both his hands up to his pale blue orbs and rubbed them with the heels of his hands, hoping to ease his aching head. Then, feeling ready to face the light being forcibly cast into his bedroom window, he opened his eyes for a second time.
The bed felt a lot bigger than it normally did. John turned his body to confirm his thoughts, Toby had already gotten up. Judging by the stifling silence of the house, his boyfriend had also left, most likely to run errands. He laid back down on his back, grogginess still trying to force his eyes shut.
Feeling slightly comforted by the now familiar stains and patterns on his ceiling, John stared up. From the corner of his eyes, John saw half-full water bottles littering the tan carpet of his shared bedroom. He sighed and rubbed his face more.
John threw his feet onto the carpeted floor and made his way to the bathroom, not bothering to close the door behind him. John stared into the large mirror, examining each one of his flaws. He grasped his brush and ran in through his hair, savoring the feeling. Once again the 25-year-old sighed as he left the bathroom.
It would be on of those days. A day that worthless thoughts about himself and his loving relationship with Toby plagued his mind. He didn't deserve someone as perfect as Toby. Compared to the sad life-form that went by the name John, Toby was a god who helped him out of his rut. John went back into the bathroom, but this time he grabbed a semi-transparent bottle.
The medicine inside rattled as he lifted them off of the counter. With little effort, he twisted the white cap off of the small orange bottle. Thankfully, it was half-empty, leaving John with several capsules for a later date. Seven oval pills spilled into his palm. Though it was way over what the doctor prescribed him to take, it was the only way to feel any effect of the medicine was to self-prescribe his own dosage.
Pills in hand, John made his way back into the bedroom. Leaning down, he picks up one of many half-drank water bottles and untwists the cap. He has become used to the ritual at this point; Put the ungodly amount pills in his mouth, take a mouthful of water, swallow pills and water, hang around Toby all day until John's insomnia decides he wants to sleep.
The medicine smoothly went down his throat and into his system. John relaxed as the unwanted thoughts exited his head. He was safe. Realizing it was only ten-in-the-morning, he laid down in the bed and allowed his body to relax enough to sleep.
John woke up several hours later in a cold sweat, chest in pain. It felt as if his heart was attempting to jump from his body and run away forever. He tried to get up and walk towards the bathroom, but his legs felt numb. Leaning on any objects were near him, John eventually made it into the bathroom. While the walk to there was ungraceful, the way down to the toilet was way worse.
Holding onto the counter's edge with a white-knuckle grip, the man tried to lower himself onto the ground. His arm shook with the effort suddenly forced onto it until it gave out halfway down. John’s body involuntarily launched forward as he landed on the ground. Pain shot through his head as it connected with the edge of the porcelain toilet bowl. With a blurry gaze, he saw crimson drip off of its smooth surface.
In the back of his mind, he knew all he would have to do is to expel the medicine from his system. But, he lost all strength in the fall. His body connected with the cool tile below, more pain exploded throughout him. Darkness soon overtook him, plunging him into a world of nothingness as he subconsciously flipped onto his back for the most comfort.
John's torso and limbs violently twitched as bile rose out of his mouth. He couldn’t wake up and turn over to save his own life. Slowly, the man choked to death on his own vomit in his own bathroom.
Several minutes passed before the front door opened and closed, “John! I’m back, love!" Toby's sweet and innocent voice echoed from downstairs. Seconds passed with no sound. This didn’t worry him, seeing as John would sometimes sleep until late in the evening. In these cases, Toby would walk into their room and either cuddle up to him and sleep as well or wake up him up and do something with the remainder of the day. So, he did just that.
Walking over to the door, he felt exhausted. Toby opened the bedroom door and looked at the empty bed. Confused why it was void of John, Toby walked a little further into the room and saw the bathroom. A strangled scream crawled its way out of his throat and into the air. Getting over the initial shock, he rushed over to his lover's newly found corpse.
Toby pulled out his phone and dialed 911. He stayed on the phone with the understanding woman on the other side and did everything she said. Turning John's lukewarm body onto his side, check his breathing, scoop the vomit out of his mouth. But, he did these tasks to no avail. John died before anyone was home, before anyone could help him.
#1221 words#angst#kryozxtobyonthetele#tobyonthetelexkryoz#tobyonthetele#kryoz#kryozgaming#still getting over the previous events of today#gbg#gay baby gang#gaybabygang#misfits#major character death#drug use#overdose#fluff to angst#real quick transition
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