Title: Don't Have One
Author: slightly_frayed
Rating: PG-13, perhaps.
Genre: It's angsty, folks. But there's room for feeling hopeful at the end, I think.
Summary: I wrote this with Nick and/or Greg in my mind, but neither names are actually used.

When he wakes up alone and cold on a Sunday morning, there are red letters screaming reality at him. It's 6:30 a.m., and he's not sure if that's a wondrously phenomenal thing, or if he'd like to bury his head back in his pillow and suffocate. He knows it would never work, though. The human body certainly wasn't designed to destroy itself. Either way, he has to be conscious for at least another fourteen hours, and he should decide what to do with that time.

He finds it rather ironic that even though his life is seemingly over, he can't stand to waste any time. You just never know when everything will be gone, and you'll wish you had done something with it.

Unless of course, you chose to end everything. Chose to leave the one person you've ever loved standing quite literally in the middle of nowhere, wondering what the hell went wrong.

What the hell did go wrong, exactly? Everything was perfect. He hates using that word though, because there's always fault in everything. That's what his father says, anyway. That's exactly what went wrong, too. His fault.

Because homosexuality is a sin, and no matter how right what they were doing felt, it was wrong. A sin. Suicide is a sin too, though. The worst sin, in fact; and that's exactly what this is.

Passive aggressive suicide.