The Last Goodbye

"Why do you do this to me? Why?" Jamie sobbed. 

No hand went to rub his back ; no arms wrapped around his body. 
No wonder why. Ian wasn't there. No one was there. Ever.

Jamie couldn't take it, he simply couldn't take it anymore. He buried his head into his pillow, the white cotton soaking the tears.
Last night again he'd let Ian take him. And last night again nothing came after. No tender word, no thank you, nothing. It hurt. It hurt so much. He'd been fucked like a whore against a wall, and left to collapse on the ground without a little sound of pleasure from Ian. He'd totally left Jamie crumple on his floor like a vulgar piece of rag. 

Jamie had tried. He had tried to say no ; but it was impossible. He loved Ian, he loved the man to pieces. He couldn't push him away. Sometimes Jamie got angry. In the beggining, Ian seemed to care ; but lastly all he did was laugh at Jamie's pleas. 

And Jamie hurt. Inside it was just like each second someone stabbed repeatedly his heart. God he hated it. He hated the white, cruel pain. It was, like the saying goes, a fever you can't sweat out ; a pain you can't soothe. He had ended up taking dangerous cocktails of painkillers and nothing had made the permanent stabbing stop ; all that had done was give him horrible headaches. For days he hadn't moved from his bed, each little move making him puke, the sunlight was like a torture to his battered, red eyes. Every word was like a scream and the had to struggle to drink a gulp of water that seemed to evaporate without hydrating him. 

Eventually that passed, and Jamie had resigned to crying it away every day ; the alcohol just made him sadder now.

And Ian had used him again. And Jamie couldn't help but love him, love the way Ian kissed him, love the way Ian made him moan. He loved it all and then when he tried to hate it he just couldn't. 

Jamie sniffled, and stared at the ceiling.
Today was the Cardiff homecoming gig. 
He knew what he was going to do.

--

"Come on Cardiff! WAKE UP Cardiff!"

Jamie launched the intro of Make a Move, and the guys started shredding it as the public screamed. Jamie smiled, swinging between sampler and keyboard, screaming in the microphone.
It's on the end of the song he felt it come. Like a large knife impaling him. He pressed his hand to his stomach, where the dizzying pain had started, and he grimaced, slightly folding. 
Some fans at the barrier were giving him worried looks, tapping their friends' shoulders, and when he turned towards Mike, the boy was frowning, mouthing "are you okay?"
Jamie just nodded with a shaky smile, and concentrated on the song. 

The pain in his belly increased, soon rising to his head, morphing into an unbearable migraine that made the world dance in front of Jamie's eyes. It was like a spike had transperced his head from side to side. He ripped his hand off the sample, pressing his palm to his temple.

"Aaaaaah!" he whimpered in pain. Mike frowned at him. 

Jamie ignored the searing pain and continued to sing the song, and as the end approached, he slid his hand into his pocket. 

No one saw it coming. 
The blade shone in the shimmering lights of the projectors, before sinking into Jamie's stomach two times in two swift movements. 

The keyboardist stumbled out of his spot, as blood started to trickle on his shirt, the atrocious migraine melting with the painful tearing of his insides. He collapsed roughly onto the ground, pulling the bloodied blade out of his body with a faint smile. There was a scream, and suddenly the music stopped, and Mike was the first to reach a whimpering, bleeding Jamie whose vision was starting to blur. 

"Jamie! Jamie oh my god oh my god no! Oh fuck! Someone call an ambulance!"

Lee rushed at his side, followed by Stu and Chiplin. The blonde, blue eyed boy seemed terrified. 

"Oh no! Oh no Jamie!" he choked, pushing the others away and pressing his hands on the open wound, hoping to stop the flow of dark blood.

Jamie smiled through tears he didn't know were there.

" 't's not worth trying, Lee. M'going t'die 'nyways. Took pills."

Lee's terrified expression turned into an horrified one, as his hands started to cover in thick blood that dripped between his fingers and spread in a funest, crimson stain on Jamie's white shirt.

"No... No Jamie..."

"Jamie!"

Ian was there, as the fans yelled in fear. Jamie closed his eyes to not have to look at the man, feeling fevers taking him and sweat starting to cover his forehead.

"Jamie don't you dare! Open your fucking eyes!" Stu barked. 

Jamie obeyed, vaguely hearing Mike call an ambulance as the fans screamed. He wasn't feeling anything in the midsection anymore and the pounding headache kept him away from thinking, as a pool of blood started to forl around him, reaching Lee's and Stu's knees.

"Jamie, don't fucking..." Ian swore.

"Fuck you..." Jamie mumbled. 

"What?!"

"Fuck you."

He was feeling himself drift away slowly, becoming more and more disconnected. Lee, at his side, panicked, pressing harder on his salvaged stomach Chiplin and Stu tried to force Jamie to keep his eyes open and to stay awake. But Jamie didn't want to... He wanted to disappear. He didn't want to live that horrible life anymore. 
Mike grabbed the hand Stu wasn't holding ; Chiplin had joined Lee to try and uselessly contain the two wounds that vomited blood at a too fast pace.
Jamie glanced tiredly at Ian, who just stood there, petrified, watching him slowly die in a warm pool of his own blood.  

Lee wiped his eyes in an attempt to see clearer, staining his face in Jamie's blood. 

"No... No..." he was sobbing.

"Jamie, please stay awake, please!" Mike whimpered. 

Jamie was so tired. 
All he wanted was to sleep for a bit...

Ian fell to his knees, his hands over his mouth.

Jamie took a last, silent glance at his friends, and closed his eyes with a smile, letting it all wash away. He could fall asleep now. 

"NO! JAMIE! WAKE UP! Wake up wake up please don't die! Don't die!" A voice Jamie couldn't identify, but wasn't Ian's, yelled desperately. "JAMIE NO!"

But it was too late. 
It was too late, Jamie was fading into the dark, into a place where he'd never be hurt again.

And he caught himself thinking that Ian didn't even take his hand as he went. 

Beautiful, perfect fucking bastard.