I didn't feel like adding this to that one post, so it's here.
I tried adding it but it wouldn't work
I wanted to see it get to this-
Jerome's lips trembled as he held Mitch's frail gray hand
What was wrong? Was Mitch upset? Was he mad? Jerome wasn't trying to hurt him, he only wanted to pet him a little, since he looked so sad. But then the hand..
"Mitch? Mitch, oh God, I'm sorry, I'm so, so, sorry, I didn't mean.. Jerome's voice trailed into oblivion into oblivion as he futilely tried fixing the hand. He tried pushing the broken ends into one, tried, placing the two pieces side by side, but nothing was working. Mitch wasn't okay, something was wrong, Mitch was wrong..
Jerome screeched angrily and threw a nearby rag at Mitch, tears burning holes into his eyes. The bloody cloth fell on Mitch's wrist, covering the tear on the limb. Jerome's wrath suddenly ceased and he stared intently at the hand. It looked alright now, no wound to be seen.
"Mitch, look your hand! It's okay, nothing's wrong, everything's okay, right biggums?
That's rights, and I shouldn't be worrying so much, because I have you, and you have me! We have each other, and that's all that matters, right Mitch?"
I love you too, Mitch." Jerome pulled the sitting cadaver close in for a hug the stench of rotten eggs enveloping him in its putrid cover. Jerome inhaled it deeply. It was Mitch's scent, and if it was Mitch's anything, he worshipped it. He missed the days when Mitch would smell of cinnamon and spice, but no matter. He'd always love Mitch.
Jerome kneeled down by Mitch's blanketed legs and sighed. "I wanted to stop by and talk Mitch, because I've been scared.. and whenever I'm around you, I'm.. not scared anymore." Jerome buried his face into the soft fleece. "Sky.. and the others, they… they've been looking for you, and they been looking at me. They think I did something with you, but.. I haven't done you any harm. I wouldn't hurt you, never, not in a thousand years? You know I wouldn't hurt you. You.. Do you think I'm crazy Mitch?
"Mitch? Mitch, please answer me, please!"
"Mitch!" He screamed, cupping the delicate face in his hands, watching a few rust-colored chips flake away. Jerome tried looking into Mitch's eyes, the amber orbs that always brought him solace, but they weren't there. Only an ugly, rotting, black crevice was where the beautiful eyes should have been.
"Mitch!" He cried out and jostled the body, causing the rag to fall away, and the blanket covering Mitch's lower half to sink, revealing the putrefying aperture. What was once a mesmerizing wound escalated into a rotting mix, stewing and churning into a nauseating smell interrupted by dull bones. Jerome stared at the hand, then the hole, the hand again, until finally resting his gaze on the vermillion heart still traced on Mitch's neck, cracked and faded.
Jerome threw himself into Mitch's cold chest, ringing with a hollow emptiness. He breathed Mitch's name over and over, sobbing, which turned to inhuman screaming and mournful howling.
He cried out into the void, screams unheard, wishes unheeded, all alone in the endless darkness.
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