Chapter Text
As our hands were intertwined, I looked into your gorgeous eyes and you stared back into my eyes, the silence hugged us like a warm blanket on winter’s day. I heard a perfect melody in my head when I looked at you, a whole symphony and an angelic melody.
‘Hey xion,’ I heard his soft voice whisper,
I only muttered out a little ‘mh?’,
‘What would you do if I ever died?’ He asked as his voice faltered and tightened,
Those 8 words put me on alarm, and as I stared at his face, I truly recognised the tiredness on his pale face, with eyebags from lack of sleep, and his messy hair that hadn’t been combed in weeks. My throat tightened at the thought of July dying, and worry filled me with fear on the side,
‘Well..’ I started after a long, heavy pause,
‘I probably wouldn’t be able to live without you, and I’d probably even die without you’ I could only whisper, but it seems like he heard my answer, as his eyes slowly fluttered opened and he stared in a slow and hidden face of horror.
An uncomfortable silence followed us, and neither of us dared to interrupt it. Not because we didn’t want to. But because we didn’t know what to say in the slightest. We just sat there, in the darkness and the quiet, until I softly and gently spoke,
‘July, I have a favour to ask of you, a promise.’
He quietly turned to me and replied in a hushed manner,
‘Okay Xion, what’s this promise?’
‘Please don’t ever leave me, and I won’t ever leave you. Please don’t die, July.’ I could only say with a strain on my voice,
‘I promise’ he replied after an uncomfortably long and loud pause, until our pinky fingers latched onto each others and we made a special promise
But Does he really mean it?
Is this a stable promise?
Will he keep it?
Will he keep it?
Will he keep it?
Did he keep it?
Did he ever keep the promise?
It’s a promise
He can’t break a promise
Right?
He would never.
I know my July.
He would never.
Would he?
Would he?
Wouldn’t he?
Wouldn’t he?
Wouldn’t he?
He would never break a promise
He would never break a promise
July couldn’t ever do that to me
Right
Right?
Right?
Right?
Right?
Right?
Right?
Righ
Rig
Ri
R
¿ʇ
¿ʇɥ
¿ʇɥƃ
¿ʇɥƃᴉ
¿ʇɥƃᴉꓤ
You can’t ever break a promise.
That’s what I thought before the unfaithful day I saw his rotten body hanging from the ceiling. His unclean feet in my sight. And you could only imagine the terror on my face as I read the note. That note. With the rushed, and shaky handwriting. Only ever just apologising. Never explaining why. Why he ever broke our promise. Our pinky promise. And to this day I can only mutter out a simple, ‘why?’. Tears could only ever fly out my eyes, had I seen his dead and dying body with my own eyes. I can now simply ponder, on what drove him to do it. Had I not been too late, he’d still be here, in my arms, warm, and safe. But it was my fault. I was too late to save him. To save him before it was too late. To save him from a choice that cannot be reversed. A decision he could never go back on anymore,
My July.
My sweet July
Why?
Why had you broken our promise now?
Why had you never talked to me once about how you were feeling?
Why never face the real you?
Why always pretend like everything was well?
Why had you never shown me a side no one else saw?
Why never show me the real you?
Unless
Unless this fake persona was the real you.
The only you, that well, you knew.
The one you never had not, not used.
I doubt it was ever him.
I doubt the real him was ever shown,
Not even to him in the slightest.
And now he’s gone.
And I have to stare at his body,
In our bathroom.
And I can’t help but wonder if he’s watching over me, or if he’s simply regretting his actions, or if he feels any peace or harming guilt, for doing what he did now.
I wonder if he feels regret
Or if he’s happy to be gone,
But the one word on my troubled mind right now is regret
That disgusting idea of regret.
Regret.
Regret.
Regret.
I can’t help but feel regret.
What if he never did it?
What if he never committed suicide?
What if he never hung himself?
What if I saved him?
Before it was too late.
But those are all what ifs.
We can’t change the past anymore.
It’s too late to be changed.
He’s gone and can’t be brought back.
That thought makes my stomach drop and my body shiver. It makes me feel disgust. It makes me feel utterly sick.
He was suffering in silence and I never got those helpless signals. All those signals were replaced with affection he never showed in his time of need. And I was the one who gave him that unwanted affection. I never tried once to see the real you. The real July. The one crying for help, the one who wanted comfort but instead got unwanted affection and love to carry on his shoulders. And I should’ve know he was needing help and comfort.
Realising all of this just now.
It makes me feel bitter.
It makes me feel disgusted.
That I just noticed all of the signs he needed attention.
He needed help.
But instead I kept over feeding him with my bitter love, disguised as false hope for his future.