Fandom: Good Charlotte
Characters: Benji Madden/Billy Martin
Prompt: 060: New Year
Word Count: 562 words. A short angst drabble.
Summary: What’s your New Years Resolution?
Author's Notes: My first entry for slash100 and it’s a sad angst one. Go Eastyn. What a good start.
Two thousand and six. Written, its four simple numbers.
Just four simple numbers. But yet, those four simple numbers have so much meaning to me, and to him. Those four simple numbers mean new beginnings. Happiness, love, health, growth.
The year 2006 brings a lot of hope on my part. I hope to be happy. I hope to be successful. I hope for a new start. I hope to do something profound.
Most of all, I hope he’s still here.
He’s sick. He’s so sick, and cannot see his beauty. He is the most exquisite angel, the most precious gem, and he can’t see it. And there is nothing I can do to help him, to save him.
Clear as day, I can look back over these years, and I know I should have stopped it. I should have helped him. I should have done something. But they say that people only see what they want to see, and I know that’s what I did. I watched him slip from the beautiful, smart man he was. I watched him waste away, fade to nothing. No longer is he strong, tall, and proud. No. Now… frail, withdrawn, sick.
He’s sick. He is sick.
And he is dying.
It’s ironic, isn’t it? That something that brings life, strength, nourishment and survival is his worst enemy. The very substance that his body needs to heal itself is what he fears most. Night after night, day after day, I watch him ruin himself.
I sigh, watching him sleep. Slowly, tentatively, gently, my fingertips dance over his skin. The vertebrae in his spine feel rocky under my fingers. The indentation of his ribs stick out like bars of a jail cell. Once defined, sexy hipbones are now nothing but razor-sharp blades, threatening to cut the skin from his body. Eyes travel up his side, collarbones dipped in, deep enough to collect liquid.
His radiant ocean blue eyes have been replaced with lifeless grey, and even though they’re closed with slumber, they speak of pain. Sunken in cheeks, gaunt lips, dry, thin hair.
A tear slides down my cheek as I watch my angel sleep. How can one so beautiful think they’re a monster? Such an exquisite beauty, wanting nothing but to destroy himself.
The day he stepped into my life, I knew I’d do anything for him. Anything to keep him happy, and safe.
And I’ve failed.
I’ve failed him.
I’ve failed me.
I’ve failed us.
His happiness faded away. His safety was found in the burning pain of hunger. When he was hungry, he was happy. When that knowing within him bit and burned, he was successful. When the numbers before his eyes dropped every week, he smiled.
The simple numbers.
The simple numbers that meant more to him than anything presented.
2006. A new year. 2006. A new life. 2006. A new start.
My lips find his cheek, soft words of love and redemption whispered as he sleeps. I have to help him. He’s sick.
My New Years Resolution.
Save this angel. Keep Heaven from taking him.
Notes: First entry. Thanks a bunch.
Writing journal at xslashtacularx