Time And Time Again
Holographic
It was one of those dreams that killed you a little inside.
Aiden blinks and blinks but the boy with ginger-flecked cheeks and fountain orbs is still there. Just as blond as he was three years ago, smiling as hard as the day before he was gone.
"Stop it, Shay, please. Just...I can't do this anymore."
His dream-voice is cracked and hoarse but it doesn't matter; it's as if Shay hadn't heard him.
"But I love you."
The words are blunt and innocent and what he goddamn needed to hear; but they weren't real any more.
Aiden's screams are loud enough to wake himself up.
-
April notices something is wrong the minute they walk out of the school.
Everything about him is off; the way his eyes are clouded by chestnut wisps, how his fingers twisted gracelessly into each other. He had always been somehwhat of a scatterbrain, but it was like he wasn't even aware of her breath just inches from his rounded shoulder.
"Aiden?"
He makes no move to turn to her; it's like he never heard. Aiden's gaze remains glued to his hands, and she makes no extra effort to tear it away.
When she walks off in the opposite direction, she tries not to shiver at the thought of her friend glaring at his own palm, with hate so pure and unadultered that it could only be associated with sin.
-
"Hey."
The way he says it is so airy and care-free that it makes Aiden want to vomit out his own heart.
Just a dream...not real not real.
The useless mantra is a backdrop of the 'visit'; the fair-haired boy just beams even more brightly.
"I miss you." he says, taking a step forward.
Aiden moves backward, farther farther farther, until he knows he can't run out of his own mind.
"I'm sorry." he chokes, before the slumber is wiped away. "Oh, God Shay...I'm so, so sorry."
-
The poppy-red, bulging letters of her digital clock read 11:04 P.M.
It's a Thursday; a school day, which to most teenagers would mean time to hit the sack.. And April honestly wanted nothing more than to feel the soothing sensation of her curls against the pillow; her body sprawled beneath several mitten-fitting blankets.
But the doorbell was ringing something awful, and to this unfortune she crept down the stairs of her empty home, curiousity enough to keep her going.
-
He's supposed to be entering his neighbor-friend April's home, but it all happens so quickly that in the blink of an eye he's walked right into 2006; seated in his old beat-up Mercedes.
One damned hand is on the wheel, the other caressing the porcelain of Shay's. They're exchanging laughs, stories; all sweet nothings that paint the bliss of the moment. The couple is so absorbed in one another that the truck remains unseen; nothing clicks until there are blares of ambulance sirens.
"S-shay." he had drawled; his lip was torn in two, like the folds of a heart.
The only response came from the sound of doors opening; police dragging them out.
Even in the lap of the gurney, Shay's name dripped from his mouth like poison.
And he's saying it now; again and again and again. Aiden didn't even realize his eyes had been screwed shut, not until they burst open, only to be greeted by April.
Traces of worry that had been painted on her face twisted into a mask of fear; her arms were splayed around him, as if her soft, slender limbs could serve as protection.
She's trembling almost as much as he is.
"Aiden...it's okay. Whatever it is won't hurt you, I promise. I'm here, now. It's okay."
It seems only natural that the freckles begin to decorate her cheeks, that the honey-brown tresses lighten by many nuances, are sheared by several inches. The charming, bubbly sound that was her voice deepend, only to be more beautiful; only to be Shay's.
In his mind he's thinking April April April but his heart and eyes are singing Shay Shay Shay; the boy he loved but couldn't save.
Butterfly touches kiss his arm, but he doesn't dare untrain his gaze from the ground.
"But you're not..." he says, his voice broken. "You're not."
Aiden blinks and blinks but the boy with ginger-flecked cheeks and fountain orbs is still there. Just as blond as he was three years ago, smiling as hard as the day before he was gone.
"Stop it, Shay, please. Just...I can't do this anymore."
His dream-voice is cracked and hoarse but it doesn't matter; it's as if Shay hadn't heard him.
"But I love you."
The words are blunt and innocent and what he goddamn needed to hear; but they weren't real any more.
Aiden's screams are loud enough to wake himself up.
-
April notices something is wrong the minute they walk out of the school.
Everything about him is off; the way his eyes are clouded by chestnut wisps, how his fingers twisted gracelessly into each other. He had always been somehwhat of a scatterbrain, but it was like he wasn't even aware of her breath just inches from his rounded shoulder.
"Aiden?"
He makes no move to turn to her; it's like he never heard. Aiden's gaze remains glued to his hands, and she makes no extra effort to tear it away.
When she walks off in the opposite direction, she tries not to shiver at the thought of her friend glaring at his own palm, with hate so pure and unadultered that it could only be associated with sin.
-
"Hey."
The way he says it is so airy and care-free that it makes Aiden want to vomit out his own heart.
Just a dream...not real not real.
The useless mantra is a backdrop of the 'visit'; the fair-haired boy just beams even more brightly.
"I miss you." he says, taking a step forward.
Aiden moves backward, farther farther farther, until he knows he can't run out of his own mind.
"I'm sorry." he chokes, before the slumber is wiped away. "Oh, God Shay...I'm so, so sorry."
-
The poppy-red, bulging letters of her digital clock read 11:04 P.M.
It's a Thursday; a school day, which to most teenagers would mean time to hit the sack.. And April honestly wanted nothing more than to feel the soothing sensation of her curls against the pillow; her body sprawled beneath several mitten-fitting blankets.
But the doorbell was ringing something awful, and to this unfortune she crept down the stairs of her empty home, curiousity enough to keep her going.
-
He's supposed to be entering his neighbor-friend April's home, but it all happens so quickly that in the blink of an eye he's walked right into 2006; seated in his old beat-up Mercedes.
One damned hand is on the wheel, the other caressing the porcelain of Shay's. They're exchanging laughs, stories; all sweet nothings that paint the bliss of the moment. The couple is so absorbed in one another that the truck remains unseen; nothing clicks until there are blares of ambulance sirens.
"S-shay." he had drawled; his lip was torn in two, like the folds of a heart.
The only response came from the sound of doors opening; police dragging them out.
Even in the lap of the gurney, Shay's name dripped from his mouth like poison.
And he's saying it now; again and again and again. Aiden didn't even realize his eyes had been screwed shut, not until they burst open, only to be greeted by April.
Traces of worry that had been painted on her face twisted into a mask of fear; her arms were splayed around him, as if her soft, slender limbs could serve as protection.
She's trembling almost as much as he is.
"Aiden...it's okay. Whatever it is won't hurt you, I promise. I'm here, now. It's okay."
It seems only natural that the freckles begin to decorate her cheeks, that the honey-brown tresses lighten by many nuances, are sheared by several inches. The charming, bubbly sound that was her voice deepend, only to be more beautiful; only to be Shay's.
In his mind he's thinking April April April but his heart and eyes are singing Shay Shay Shay; the boy he loved but couldn't save.
Butterfly touches kiss his arm, but he doesn't dare untrain his gaze from the ground.
"But you're not..." he says, his voice broken. "You're not."