Chronicles of subjected ill
A personal series where I’ll rarely update on my original characters lore, story and record their progress for the pass of the years.
Name: Erik Obrechen Henriksson
Sexuality: ambiguous - asexual/gay/aromantic
Physical description: attractiveness is distorted according to the tale, made to accommodate and emphasize certain aspects of a particular situation. Black hair, dark, almost black irises, tanned skin, eye bags, Roman nose, negative cantal tilt, no beauty marks.
TW: STALKING, SUICIDE, SENSITIVE TOPICS.
Beautiful, oh gorgeous boy, I loved you that day I saw you approach me on the bridge that cold, no sun knowing afternoon. I pretended not to see you, I saw you, but I knew you weren’t a coincidence, everyday I came to this bridge to muster up all courage my bone density had to offer so that I could close my eyes never to open them again due to them breaking in impact.
Nobody comes to this ran down bridge, nobody but you, for the first time in this long lapse of weeks, days, hours that I counted in reverse, you came, on the last day, when no one ever does.
Oh sweet beautiful boy, I know your dirty little secrets, I know them because when you sat next to me and talked me out of everything I followed you, invited by your kindness to the warm cocoon you call home, you didn’t need to say a word, I knew you wanted me there. I know you knew I was there even if you pretended not to.
Sweet, sweet boy, I know you’re as horrible as I am, how else would you have known I was at the bridge of that damp wood in the mountains? I had never seen you in town before, you’re new, aren’t you just sweet? You knew me even before you came, you knew even before you knew town, or why else the new boy would go somewhere “unknown”? I just feel it in my bones, the bones you saved with your unconditional, lusting love.
I want to fuck you like an animal when I see you dreaming so sweetly like everything else you are and act, but oh boy do I know you’re probably so dirty, I don’t rush it though, there’s no need to, because you’re mine the moment I saw you in a place that belongs to me.
You’re my husband, I see you at college, I see you at work, I see you in the street that’s farthest away from my own home, you’re just following me everywhere, you’re crazy for me as I am for you, why else would you give me your contact number? I know you want to hear me when you do things you regret under God’s watchful, judging eyes, but you can’t help it, just the same I can’t either, because we’re the same.
I hate that whoring bitch you hang out with all the time, but you’re my husband and only mine, and you’re loyal to me so that’s why I haven’t snapped her neck with a twist. Oh dear Azrael, you always choose me, and my chest feels the sick parallel to butterflies, but I’m so horrible aren’t I? That’s why they can’t be butterflies, beautiful things attract beautiful things, horrible attracts horrible. They’re worms, I have worms in my heart.
I catch the very first moment you looked at me and realized you wanted me, because what else would it have been the reason for you to look at a stranger?
Oh dear, sweet, beautiful boy, there is a paradox here, I know I’m horrible, and something horrible only attracts disgust on and off, so why do you get to be so perfect? The worms don’t feel so good anymore, they’re no longer tickling like before.
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