C'est la vie Ménage à trois
One Does Not Simply Walk Into Mordor.
Be patient and tough; someday this pain will be useful to you.Live Journal
People seems to think the worst of the darkest place, but they can hold the most magical, amazing things. The night sky, holds blazing suns and planets which people look up to for hope and guidance. Behind our eyes, deep sleep that gives us relaxation that we can't find anywhere else, that gives us an escape from reality. Our minds are the darkest places of all, yet we hold of deepest, truest dreams, secrets, hopes and ideas there.
If you actually read this and want to get to know me then simply ask and talk to me.
The air rushed out of his lungs as his knees hit the hard concrete. He didn’t feel any of it. He didn’t feel anything. All that was left was the fact that Evan was dead and he wasn’t coming back. He was alone. It was no longer “The Tweedles” or Ethan-and-Evan. It was just one Tweedle. It was just Ethan.
His vision blurred, it wasn’t from tears - he isn’t capable of emotion anymore - it’s because he’s half blind. Half of him is gone so it seems only far. He can’t heard voices anymore. He can’t taste the usually sweetness in the air that lingered from Charlie’s garden. He can’t smell the salt that seemed to coat Dwight. He can’t even feel the wet, sticky, squish of Reed’s paint between his fingers. It’s all just white noise.
He can feel the blood slow down, the cells beginning to shut of, his joints jarring and pulling. He’s hyper aware of the fact that his body is dying. He’s not meant to live without Evan. His heart knows it, his mind knows it, his soul knows so it’s only natural that his body realizes this too.
Everything has slowed down, the people running around are almost at a stop. His mind is trying to comprehend it still. Evan is gone. Evan is dead. Evan is not coming back. He’s dead, he’s dead, he’s fucking dead.
No more anything. He can’t even think of specific things that can never happen again because there is no specific thing. There has never been a moment, a memory, that Evan wasn’t in. All of his firsts - word, kiss, fuck - and everything that made him, every experience he has ever had is now completely worthless because there is no one to share them with.
He sucks in a breathe, it’s as if he’s been stabbed, brutally, over and over and over again. It’s searing and aching and like nothing he’s ever experienced, read about or heard about. It’s complete and utter pain. Evan was gone. Evvie was gone. He screamed, voice already raw and aching. His heart pumped hard and fast, smashing against his ribs in a way that should be possible. None of this should be possible - Evan should be holding him and telling him it’s okay. But he’s not because he’s fucking gone.
It still hasn’t sunk in.
If it had, he would be dead before the though could even be properly formed. His heart would simply stop. The doctors would be baffled and wonder what happened, his friends would wonder, know, but never accept it because it just can’t be possible, his parents and his sister would know and smile. Ethan can not survive without Evan. There hearts took there first beat together and they would take there last together - that was how it was meant to be right?
Ethan standing, pushing through the bodies that had surrounded him at some point and walked away. He didn’t know where he was going. But he kept walking, wearing himself down step by step. Sooner or later he would fall. He would fall and never get up.
Then there wouldn’t be just Ethan. It would be Ethan-and-Evan again. Everything would be alright again.