Post by BENJI FLYNN on Dec 19, 2011 22:28:41 GMT
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
There was something quite nauseous about standing on the top of a four-hundred-and-fifty-eight-foot building. Leaning on the safety rail that prevented anyone from getting too close to the edge. Benji had been there all day, his bag full of weed and alcohol he had somehow managed to smuggle up to the top floor. He was sat, cross-legged, by the fence. His back to Vegas and her bright lights as he watched the sun disappear beyond the horizon. Bringing a small bottle to his lips he inhaled the alcohol like oxygen, never wanting to stop.
He had spend three years of his life waiting for something that, he now knew, was never going to happen. He didn't believe for one second that Percy had really loved him. It had been a game. A sick game. That he would fall for, fall in love and everyone would laugh when he was cast aside. Yesterdays news. Of course, no one expected for Benji to feel anything back in High School. He had never cared for anyone but himself. He'd never needed to. And then the most beautiful, charming, witty doll of a boy had stumbled into Benji's life and he finally knew what people meant in those stupid love stories.
His heart would speed up every time he saw the other boy, heard his voice, his laughter. They had had fun together, and Benji had promptly ruined it - the same way he had ruined everything else in his life. He was an accident waiting to happen, balancing on a high wire with no safety net.
But Percy hadn't felt it the way Benji had. Benji was just another boy, another conquest, anything but lover. The thin boy lit up another joint, laying back on the cold iron panels that were holding the building together - if someone had realised he was up there, they hadn't come to save him. They would be inside, in the warm, watching his hatred eat away at his heart. He was bitter.
He was broken.
Blowing a few tense smoke rings he felt his eyes water, dripping down the side of his face and onto the grey floor. He could feel the tears dripping sporadically into his ears, making them cold. He'd been told to just get over it, just get over the fact Percy didn't need him and move on. But move on where?
With no friends. No family. Nothing.
There wasn't one person in the whole world who wanted him. He'd never felt more alone. At least before the drunken adventure he had been able to kid himself that Percy still loved him, that he was just scared Benji would hurt him again. But the way the other had rushed out of the front door, like he couldn't get away fast enough. Benji was sure that all he was now was a drunken mistake. Percy would deny all feelings and would go on living his life just as he had been doing.
Like he didn't know that Benji was failing apart more and more after each shaky intake of breath. He sat up, the tears still dripping down his cheeks - but he didn't brush them away. He was so sick of wiping them away, getting up, dusting himself off and starting the process again.
He had spent three years sober, just so he could prove that he'd never wanted anyone else. He hadn't slept with anyone since Percy left him, hadn't smoked anything and hadn't drunk a thing. Until that fight. He'd given in. He'd let himself get caught up in the drama of college, the adrenalin rushes from fighting for no reason. The warm feeling alcohol gave him when it slithered so delicately down his throat.
But now it just tasted like sand.
Benji looked out over Vegas, his chin resting on the metal barrier, eyes glancing over the lights wondering if Percy was out there, with Simon. Benji blinked a few times to get the image out of his mind. Simon better fucking make him happy, he thought, resting his cheek on the cold metal, shivering slightly in the night air.
Suddenly he heard the door open and his head snapped up, someone else entering the roof. He wondered briefly, how many people would care if he just...vanished.
None.
Not even Percy.
[/center][/size]
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
