she/they | 25 | queer | b.indo | poem? | masterlist (has not been updated for a very long time) | spotify playlists & other things I'm doing | ko-fi | saweria
We're the slaves of our own imaginations; we work labours to satisfy the tension. So here I give for you to peruse and explore as you see fit at the end of my sentence.
Simon kissed you again, holding you tight in his arms.
“I love you,” you said again.
“I love you,” Simon replied.
With arms tight around each other, the two of you stood in your living room, taking in the moment.
Quite some time after that, the two of you moved to the sofa. Simon cradled you in his arms, looking down at your face that was looking back at his. He held your face with one hand, brushing his thumb on your cheek. The two of you sat there, in your living room, taking in the moment.
“I love you,” you told him.
“I love you,” Simon replied.
The food arrived. Now the two of you sat across each other in the kitchen. The two of you were silent, but one hand of yours held one of his, eyes kept looking at each other.
Once done, you did the dishes and Simon walked up behind you, wrapping his arms around you. He buried his face on the crook of your neck. The two of you sat there, in your kitchen, taking in the moment.
“I love you,” it was almost a whisper coming out of his lips.
“I love you,” you said back.
It was already late then. When the two of you moved again, you moved to your bedroom.
Simon sat on the edge of your bed, you straddled him on his lap. His arms was trying to pull you inside his ribcage and yours was trying to stick yourselves together long enough that hopefully your skins would melt together into one. Your face was deep in his skin and his was deep in your hair.
“Go to sleep,” Simon said.
What you heard was, Go to sleep so you don’t have to see me leave.
Out of a sudden, tears started filling your eyes as if it was water from a tap filling in a bucket. The tap was switched open to the fullest and it filled the bucket quickly.
“I really love you,” you said before quietly sobbing.
With soft shushing sound, Simon rubbed his hand on your back and left kisses on your head, on your forehead, on your temple, anything of you that he could reach.
“No one loves you more than I do,” Simon said.
You knew how hurtful it would be. You invited him anyway. Simon knew how hurtful it would be, too. He came anyway.
“I’m sorry we didn’t work out,” Simon said.
After all those arguments, all those yelling, the two of you decided to have a truce and say goodbye to each other properly.
Things had changed. You two were not in love like you were at the beginning of your relationship anymore. However, you still loved each other enough that it hurt you to say goodbye.
At the moment, Simon believed that his heart—that he buried in the snow—had been taken out of its cemetery and was crushed by a giant fist. Yours—wherever it might be—was being treated in the same exact manner.
You wiped your face, pulling yourself back so you could hold his face in your arms.
“I hope you find happiness and know that you’re loved and deserve to be loved,” you said.
“It won’t matter if it’s not you,” Simon said. “I can’t have that anymore, can I?”
“You’ll always have my love,” you replied.
“You’ll always have mine,” Simon promised.
Simon kissed you again, having his kiss returned by you. It lasted for sometime and when your detached from one another, your foreheads attached to one another.
“I’m sorry for all the yelling and—and all the shitty things I’ve done to you. I’m a piece of shit who could live a thousand lifetimes and will never… ever deserve you,” Simon said.
“No, you deserve more than me,” you said. “I’m sorry for thinking that you’re just like any other man. You’re not. You’re more.”
“I’m just a coward who kills you with a kiss, nothing more,” Simon said.
Despite your disagreement, you decided to stop convincing him otherwise in fear that you both would start yelling at each other again. This was already as bad as it was.
So, the two of you sat there, in your bedroom, taking in the moment.
Your hearts were bleeding out. There was no cure to this. Neither of you would ever recover from this wound. It might turn into a scar, proof that you went to war to let go of each other.
After a while, Simon pulled himself back, looking at you again. He wiped your tears off your face.
“Do you wanna lie down?” Simon asked.
You nodded.
The two of you shifted your positions. Now, you were lying on the bed, face to face. It was as if there was no time to spare other than to look at each other.
“I’ll be here until you’re deep asleep,” Simon stated.
“I know,” you said. “That’s why I’m trying not to.”
Eventually, the two of you moved closer to each other. Simon put his arm around you, you were close enough to him to kiss his chest. It used to be a regular, but this might be the last time this was happening.
“I love you,” Simon said one last time.
“I love you,” you replied.
By then, the words I love you meant nothing anymore. It was an accessory that you hung on your walls in your mind where you put memories of the two of you together.
Came morning, Simon was gone from your place and the two of you had let go of each other for good.
References:
Phil Kaye's Repetition [Text] [Video]
Oscar Wilde's The Ballad of Reading Gaol
When you saw the newly promoted captain walking over towards you in the mess hall, you stopped eating. The hair on the side of his head had outgrown in a messy way, turning his mohawk into a sorry excuse of a mullet. His face looked more exhausted than anything.
Soap stopped next to your table and nodded. You stood up, welcoming him.
“Sir,” you greeted.
“So,” he started, voice heavy.
Soap swallowed a chunk of saliva and looked down briefly.
“They’re M.I.A.,” he stated.
A ball formed in your throat out of nowhere.
By they, Soap meant Simon, Price, and Gaz. Their team was backup for the team that initially left to collect an important figure to the camp that you were staying at the moment. Neither team had been reachable since the last they were in the light—precisely sixty eight hours ago.
You had been waiting for Soap, specifically, to come to you. You knew the time would come when Soap would give you one out of three news. One, that the team had returned. Two, that the team was killed in action. Three, the team was missing in action.
It was option three. Meaning Soap came here to put you in a search team.
“When are we leaving?” you managed to ask.
“In five minutes,” Soap answered. “Can you do that?”
“Yes, sir,” you nodded.
“Meet me in the hangar, gear up,” Soap nodded.
Soap did not need to tell you more.
About five minutes later, you were on a chopper with Soap and three disposable soldiers that the base was willing to give you, save for the pilot.
You were not the only person who hated that it took them almost three days before deciding that they should send out a rescue team for their best personnels. All you could hope was that Soap did not punch another superior officer for this.
The team that Soap led for this search was dropped off on a roof of the building where Price’s team was last known to be. Judging by the crowd of zombies surrounding it, it seemed they could not leave.
The door that gave access to the inside of the building from the roof was not locked. However, as soon as it was opened, about half a dozen zombies screeched from the inside and ran out towards your team. That batch of infected was easily handled by precise headshots that Soap delivered through his suppressed rifle.
The captain led the team in with you on the far back, making sure you had everybody’s back. When his round was empty, the second in line would take over his position as Soap moved behind you. The cycle went on like that.
Room after room, your team cleared all the infected. Dead bodies falling limp to the ground, being piles of new furniture. Everything went well, the flow your team had was a flourish of perfection. It did not take your team too long before you started making your ways downstairs.
About three floors down, you were finally upfront in the marching order. Unlike the upper floors, this floor was cleared. Infected were already on the ground, save for the half dozen that was roaming around the hallway.
Your heart, if it had not already, beat faster. You gripped your rifle tighter. There were hardly any infected in any of the rooms. By the state of it, whoever it was must have made quite the ruckus that caught the attention of the remaining zombies.
You pushed forwards, feeling nervous of what you might or might not find.
By the end of the hallway, you saw a zombie that seemed to be out of place. The other zombies wore either civilian or scientist uniforms whereas that one wore a military uniform and he seemed to be Gaz’s size.
Before that zombie completely turned around, you shot a bullet through the back of its head and watched it fall to the ground.
You gazed back at Soap, sharing a knowing look that your friends might have met the end of their lives here.
Soap, then, nodded you to go ahead.
You walked up, passing that last zombie in the hallway, feeling your heart being held by a taunting, invisible hand. When you looked down, however, you felt a breeze of relief seeing that it was not Gaz.
Soap knelt down next to the body, fishing the fallen soldier’s dog tags. He took a moment to look at it before pocketing the metal. He looked at you before signing at you to go ahead and check the remaining door.
The taunting, invisible hand returned to hold your heart in its palm, tight and ready to squeeze.
You stood to the side of the door while Soap stood on the other side of it. You reached a hand towards the knob and after making sure that everyone was ready to go, you twisted it.
It was not locked, but the door was not opening. As if there was something heavy blocking it from the inside. You looked at Soap.
Soap pounded the door twice with the side of his fist. There was no response.
“Price?” he called out.
Still no response.
After a moment, Soap looked back at you.
“Do you want to crowbar it or axe it?” you offered.
“Crowbar seems safer. One violent whack instead of multiple,” Soap said. “Or we could just push. There’s five of us, who’s conscious and have the ability to give a push with full force.”
“Pushing it is, then,” you nodded.
Soap took a moment, scanning the team.
“Four of us push. You stand by the opening in case there’s infected inside ready to eat us alive,” Soap stated, looking at you.
“10-4,” you nodded, raising your rifle ready.
The four started pushing the door. A squeak of heavy wood against the floor echoed as the door started parting. You held your rifle steady, ready to shoot or put your weapon down if needed.
Your heart beat faster as your breath pumped faster. Nothing was showing up from the other side. So, as soon as the door was opened enough for you to slip through, you did.
Starting from the immediate corner, you scanned the room until you caught the gaze of a pair of milky eyes. Reflex went ahead of you and your finger pulled the trigger, shooting a bullet in between the pair of milky, dead eyes.
The corpse fell in slow motion. Or at least it was what it felt. The tall corpse with a skull mask seemed to be staring right into your soul as it limped to the ground. At that moment, the taunting, invisible hand turned into a twine of thorny vines that had your heart wrapped in it and it started squeezing so hard that you felt your heart might be bursting.
The thudding of that zombie falling was layered by a painful squeak leaking out of your throat. You ran towards the recently dead zombie and knelt next to it.
It was him.
It was Simon.
Thinking that you might have made a mistake of killing him by accident, you slipped his mask off. His face was not his anymore. It was something else’s. Rotten, paled, infected.
You ran a gentle hand through his hair, holding back tears. You slowly looked up, ready to face the field captain. However, before you could turn to face him, you saw the dead bodies lined in the far wall of this room.
The dead bodies were laid down, set as if they were peacefully sleeping with their arms folded. Two of them had a bucket hat and a cap on their chest.
You looked at Simon’s dead body again. This time, you noticed the bite wound that was on his arm.
By now, Soap had shown up and knelt in front of you. The two of you looked at each other, not being able to say anything. The most he could do was put a hand on your shoulder and squeezed it in hope to reassure you.
Carefully, you fixed Simon’s body to be positioned just the way the others were. You folded his arms before putting his mask on top of it. Then, you slipped his dog tags off his neck.
After taking a moment, you and Soap stood up and walked over to the lines of dead bodies. You approached Price first. There were multiple bite wounds on his arms that you could see. His dog tags were put on top of his hat. Gaz, with a huge bite wound that tore a chunk of flesh on his neck. His dog tags were next to his cap.
The remaining dead bodies also had bite wounds. Other than that, they all had perfectly aimed bullet holes in their heads. Whatever thorn that squeezed your heart earlier now did it again.
“He was the last one,” Soap sighed.
“He couldn’t do it himself,” you said.
You took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. It was a while that you and Soap shared a look before he raised his radio.
“Base, come in,” Soap said.
An instant reply said, “This is base. Anything to report, Captain MacTavish?”
“We found them,” he stated. “They’re gone.”
The radio was silent for a long time.
“Sorry to hear that. Get back here immediately, we have a situation,” the person on the other side of the radio stated before the line went dead.
Then, as if it was natural, Soap got you in his arms as you let out whatever gush of water your eyes made you let out.
Regardless of that order from the higher ups, regardless of dozens of talks that Soap gave about not having time to grief, Soap took a moment for him and for you. Just a moment of grief while you stood in the room littered with your dead friends.
MANIFESTING A GOOD JUNE MANIFESTING A GOOD JUNE MANIFESTING A GOOD JUNE MANIFESTING A GOOD JUNE MANIFESTING A GOOD JUNE MANIFESTING A GOOD JUNE MANIFESTING A GOOD JUNE MANIFESTING A GOOD JUNE MANIFESTING A GOOD JUNE MANIFESTING A GOOD JUNE MANIFESTING A GOOD JUNE MANIFESTING A GOOD JUNE
2087
prguitarman
kianamaiart
