Part One•°• I feel for you, but when did you believe you were alone?
You say that spiders crawled inside and made themselves a home
Where light once was •°•
Oliver sat on a cliff next to his French lover, Jacques. The summer air was cool, yet comfortable. The water from the ocean would beat against the rocks below in unforgiving crashes. The moonlight shone down upon them in a almost ethereal manner.
Oliver had his Ginger head laid upon the other's shoulder; their breathing was soft and slow, but a certain melancholy hung in the air surrounding them.
Jacques' tired, bored violet eyes scanned the water mindlessly, counting how many wave crashes he heard. One, two, three, four... He continued this until the Brit broke the calm silence with a voice barely above a whisper.
"Do you ever get lonely?"
"Of course," He said, his gruff, monotone voice matching the volume that Oliver had previously used. "Quite often, actually." Jacques' eyes moved from the main body of water to the rocks where a white frothy substance had been left by the sea. "Ever since Matt left for College."
Oliver's heart hurt after hearing the words from Jacques' mouth. How could he feel so alone? Oliver knew Jacques suffered from depression; from what Oliver knew, Jacques had since they met back in High-school. But to know that he had been feeling this way for this long (seeing Matt had left for College three years prior) hurt him more than he thought possible.
"You're not alone, Love. You never were and never will be." The Brit said, his Aquamarine eyes slightly glazed over with tears.
Jacques let out a half-hearted and bitter laugh, "I've always felt alone. Even before Matt left. This sadness welcomed itself into me long, long ago..."
"Have you ever been happy?" Oliver's voice began to hold a sad and worried undertone, which was peculiar for the normally peppy Brit.
"At one point." The Frenchman said, his violet eyes now scanning the moon, looking at his various craters. "Many moons ago."
Oliver nodded his head slightly, his blue eyes looking back at the ocean, his heart was as heavy as his eye lids were becoming, he closed them, focusing on the sound of the waves and his Boyfriend's breathing as he let himself breathe, and slowly succumb to slumber.
•°• Petrified of who you are and who you have become
You will hide from everyone,
denying you need someone To exterminate your bones •°•
Oliver had his pale arms wrapped around Jacques' torso, his body shaking gently from the force of the sobs that wracked Jacques' body. Oliver gently petted the dirty blonde hair if his Lover, shushing him quietly and whispering sweet nothings into his ear.
Jacques' would let out a series of coughs every now-and-again, now whether or not these were caused by his crying or just his Smoker's Cough acting up, Oliver couldn't tell nor care at the moment.
"I'm scared." Jacques chocked out after calming down from his episode. He had backed up and was sitting against the eggshell-white wall of the bathroom. He ran a tan hand through his tangled hair as he tried to steady his breathing.
"Why, Jacques? What do you have to be afraid of?" Oliver asked, his blue eyes full of exhaustion and sadness.
"I'm scared of myself. What I am, who I am, what I always have been and will be... I'm afraid I'll hurt myself one day." His sunken purple eyes stared off into the distance; his voice was almost as distant if not more.
Oliver furrowed his brows slightly in confusion, "What? What do you mean- what about you?"
"I'm afraid I'll kill myself one day." The Frenchman stated, the same despair seeping through every word he spoke.
Oliver's eyes shot up to look at him, his own hands beginning to tremble.
"Please don't." Tears quickly began to gather in the corners of his eyes, only to begin to slide down his freckled cheeks. His lip quivered and his heart burned and ached. Oliver shook his head slightly, as though denying the statement his Love had just said would make everything better.
"Jacques, I beg of you, please don't- don't say that." The Brit let out a weak sob, sloppily wiping his eye with the back of his hand.
"Let me help you." He begged, grabbing Jacques' hand and holding it in his own shaking ones.
Jacques gently let the other's hand go, kissing the top of Oliver's head before standing and walking away, most likely to their shared bedroom. Not to be seen again that night.
Oliver sat on the cold tile of the bathroom. He suddenly felt sick, very sick.
The Ginger stuck his head into the toilet and began to regurgitate the chicken and pasta salad they had for dinner that evening.
He needed to help expel the demons that haunted and hurt Jacques. No matter what it took.
He would help him.
He would save him.