The One Shot Parade!

And don't tell me, i'm afraid of waking up alone. When I'm waking up to find you've gone.

My eyes flutter open, wind making my lashes dance in the blackness that is no different from when I had the flesh closed tight. Breezes fly through the room and up my spine, necrotic fingers pressing my bones and twisting my stomach into knots. The window is open, a siren sounding off in the distant world which I so loathe.

Something isn't right.

Automatically, my thoughts turn to you. I yawn and mutter softly, "Zacky, baby, are you awake?"

No answer. I assume you are asleep and feel behind my back for your hand, your torso, anything. I am dissappointed when my hand touches nothing but the satin material of our sheets. I turn toward where your body should be, my trembling fingers splayed as if creating more of a surface with the flesh, blood and bone could make you appear within my grasp.

My hair pricks up, a thousand fires running free on my scalp, and my heart begins to race. My hands grow cold and clammy, the open window not helping as I shiver and let out a half-petrified sigh. You're gone. Our bed is cold, colder than the room seems to be, and it's so frozen that I cannot bear to lay there anymore. I jump out of bed. "Zacky?"

The window taunts me with its sardonic grin. It's not the cold or your absence that terrifies me- it's the memory of earlier today. The argument you took so close to your heart when I simply laughed it off. The window taunts, its unchanging frame seemingly twisting and convulsing in my mind. Left with no choice, I look down at my tattooed body clad only in boxers, then climb out the window.

But you make it clear, I had my chances. Only one way left to go, so I'll follow it down.

The fire escape is writhing beneath me, a thousand coarse iron snakes staring towards my feet with venomous fangs poised. I grab the rails shakily, my stomach lurching and goose bumps riddling my skin. The icy breath of the early February morning slides down my back. It seems like ages before I reach the top, but when I do, I pray I am still in the bed, warm and safe, and all this is but a dream.

You're standing close to the edge. Too close. My skin turns to ice and I freeze, my mouth agape as if to swallow the scene before me. "Zacky?"

He goes straight, straight for the deep end. Doesn't hesitate to dive right in. Be careful now.

Even in the pale moonlight I can see the traces of dark eyeliner-stained tears falling from your cheeks. Your lip is bleeding, the metallic liquid sending a vicious gleam into the night sky and sending those dead fingers crawling across my skin. "Frankie, you shouldn't be out here, you'll catch your death."

You say these words to me, frozen as my skin to the cruel iron bars beneath me. Your face is fixated on the ground. Your pale tattooed body gleams in the moonlight, nothing but boxers and a t-shirt clinging to your skinny skeleton. I ignore the warning because, although the words are meant to be warm with concern, they sound cold and bitter.

"What are you doing?"

Your face contorts into the saddest smile I've ever known. "I can't make you happy," your broken voice crinkles down my ears, all shattered glass and burning remains. "So either I jump, live a lie, or leave you. I can be comfortable and dead, or unhappy knowing you're miserable."

So he's traded my love for comfort, gives it all away. So much for that happy ending

Somehow my numb limbs have seperated from the snakes, though they hiss and plead for me to come back. My steps are cautious, as if you're dangerous and vile. "Zachary James Baker, how could you think that?"

Your eyes close and your face twists into a scowl. "Don't call me that."

Your voice is edged with emotion, cutting my ears and letting blood fly. I make my way to the edge and look down, vertigo falling over me as I peer over the top of the six story building.

Now you make it clear, you've got your options. Only one way left to go, So I'll follow it down.

"Zacky, I love you."

I glance sideways at you and watch your face crumple, a pile of flesh dripping off to the concrete below. "Don't..."

Your breath hitches and you sway on your feet. You're drunk, and it's easy to see. "Don't say it."

He can't hold his own. Who would have known? He is misery's company.

"Zacky..."

The name falls off my tongue easily, the tension in the atmosphere growing and becoming pulsing muscles around us, pumping blood into our stagnant and broken hearts. Diseased senses plague me as I feel the sudden urge to just collapse against you and cry, beg you to come back inside so we could talk.

"Frankie... Go inside. I don't want you to watch this."

I shake my heas softly, wrapping my arm firmly around his waist.

He's got no place to go. No place to call home. He's got misery's company.

"You jump... I jump too."

You send a glance sideways at me, confusion and dispair reaching towards me. A thousand rotted hands begging me to hear their decimated pleas. "Why?"

The simplest word in the world. I sigh, my breath fogging in the icicle ridden air. "Because I love you."

The four words drive the stake in your heart. You step closer to the edge, my arm still wrapped tight around you. We take the plunge and my eyes close. They open again. Only now... I am in a bed. A warm, soft, safe bed. The room has a pleasant feel, and your breath tickles my neck. "Zacky, are you awake?"

My voice is trembling. My skin is still riddled with goosebumps and the memory of the unforgiving February air. "Yeah, babe, I'm awake."

I smile and snuggle into you, closing my eyes again.

And they open again, and I'm back on that snake ladder, my teeth chattering with the cold. Your arms are spread, mocking angels as they cry and beg for you to step away from the edge. Mocking me as I beg you to step away from the edge. Eyeliner-stained tears race down your cheeks and I call your name, only this time you don't respond at all. You step away from the edge and collapse in a heap on the tarred roof, a black apyss with a feigned solidty that only offers support momentarily. I don't like this roof.

Your eyes open, staring straight through me. "Let me sleep. Please."

I somehow find myself kneeling down beside you, stroking your hair as you close your eyes. "Sleep, angel."

He only come to me in my dreams, So sleep becomes routine. It's not healthy, its what make you right.

Your whispering voice carries on the howls and agonized screeches of the wind. I close my eyes and picture what you are dreaming, then open my eyes and live it. We're in the bedroom now, warm and inviting. Your lips play in a smile, and my torso is bare. You, clad only in boxers, are re-enacting a scene from The Nightmare Before Christmas for me, and I laugh and clap my hands.

He only come to me in my dreams, So sleep becomes addicting, It's not healthy, its what make you right.

I feel a tear slide down my face as I watch the scene unfold. What is this? What is happening to me? Is it a dream?

Why did I jump?

I close my eyes and whisper softly, words laced with sadness so unlike the memory of the time that once was which is playing in your head, "The king of Halloween has been blown to smithereens."

My eyes open again and your face is staring up to the stars, both of us alone on this godforsaken roof. Your tears have dried and you set up, looking around groggily. Then your face crumples, and you realize where you are.

Hold his strings to haunt my dreams. It's not healthy, its what make you right.

"Frankie," your cracked and hoarse voice whispers, "If you can hear me, I'm sorry."

I look at you, confusion invading my brain like a stray soldier shooting at an innocent. "I'm right here, my love."

You continue, having not noticed me or heard me. "I've done nothing but sleep, because it's the only time I see you."

A single tear runs down your face, and your voice shatters around my heart in a puddle of bone, blood, and glass. "I'm going to jump. I should've died with you when we jumped the first time. It's my fault you're dead and I want to be with you."

He goes straight, staight for the deep end. Doesn't hesitate to dive right in.

I felt tears coursing down my face. "Zacky..."

Within seconds, you jump up, run to the edge, and...

You jump.