White Sparrows S/A
Title: White Sparrows S/A
Author: x_cheapnovelty
Pairing: Alex Gaskarth/Jack Barakat
Rating: M
Summary: misery got the best of Jack
Warnings: suicide
Disclaimer: imaginary
Dedications: my own alexander
Author Notes: i needed to get my misery out of me and onto a word document.
These violent delights have violent ends,
and in their triumph die, like fire and powder;
which, as they kiss, consume.
**
Jack was trying to figure out exactly what to write on the page in front of him. It would eventually be a letter, but right now, it was stubbornly remaining an empty page. He choked up for a moment, and a tear landed somewhere near the top right corner; it looked perfect, Jack thought, and the words came to him, so he wrote them down. They weren’t a declaration of love, nor were they a greeting. They formed a single question. Satisfied, he enveloped the page, addressed it, and set off to post it. This request was too grand to be sent by cheap text or via a social networking site, and Jack didn’t think he could speak it out loud, because the person it was addressed to would surely reply with his velvet voice, high-pitched with concern, and that was not an option. So he posted it, and would wait for the signal that meant it had been received. Then, he could finally act.
**
Three days went by as normal. Nobody knew about Jack’s visit to the letterbox and business was as usual. Jack went to work, saw his mother and father, saw his two best friends, ate, slept - everything according to routine. On the fourth day, he quit his job. He tidied his bedroom and placed things of importance in easy-to-find places. He burned his diary in his backyard so that nobody would ever find it and figure out what really went on in his mind. Everything was perfect, it was late afternoon, so Jack got in his car, and began to drive.
**
Jack had been driving for what felt like hours, though the sun was still not set. His phone started ringing from where it was sitting in his cars cup holder;
calling...
alex
Jack smiled to himself, Alex was right on time. A bridge was coming in to view and a heavy peace settled on Jack; he could finally breathe.
**
Alex was panicking. Jack was not answering his phone - was he too late? Letters took so long to reach the recipient, but surely he would have heard if he...
Alex pressed redial when he heard nothing from Jack’s phone but a dead tone. Surely this cryptic letter couldn’t be the last thing he would ever hear from him. He looked back down to the letter in his hands, which simply requested:
Alexander, would you please sing Remembering Sunday at my funeral?
No. No, Alex couldn’t believe this. This wasn’t happening. He started crying, ringing and ringing Jack’s phone, receiving no answer time after time, but when he’d almost lost hope, the line crackled and Jack’s voice rang out clear as day.
“I love you. Just know that.”
Then the line went dead. Alex couldn’t breathe.
**
Now Jack’s hands were steady on the steering wheel and his heart was racing as he reached his final destination. He put the pedal to the floor, the car gathered speed, going faster and faster, and he finally swerved, his head smashing into the windshield as his car broke through the bridges side barrier and sailed over the edge, plummeting into the river below.
The last thing Jack felt was perfect weightlessness, before he no longer knew anything.
Author: x_cheapnovelty
Pairing: Alex Gaskarth/Jack Barakat
Rating: M
Summary: misery got the best of Jack
Warnings: suicide
Disclaimer: imaginary
Dedications: my own alexander
Author Notes: i needed to get my misery out of me and onto a word document.
These violent delights have violent ends,
and in their triumph die, like fire and powder;
which, as they kiss, consume.
**
Jack was trying to figure out exactly what to write on the page in front of him. It would eventually be a letter, but right now, it was stubbornly remaining an empty page. He choked up for a moment, and a tear landed somewhere near the top right corner; it looked perfect, Jack thought, and the words came to him, so he wrote them down. They weren’t a declaration of love, nor were they a greeting. They formed a single question. Satisfied, he enveloped the page, addressed it, and set off to post it. This request was too grand to be sent by cheap text or via a social networking site, and Jack didn’t think he could speak it out loud, because the person it was addressed to would surely reply with his velvet voice, high-pitched with concern, and that was not an option. So he posted it, and would wait for the signal that meant it had been received. Then, he could finally act.
**
Three days went by as normal. Nobody knew about Jack’s visit to the letterbox and business was as usual. Jack went to work, saw his mother and father, saw his two best friends, ate, slept - everything according to routine. On the fourth day, he quit his job. He tidied his bedroom and placed things of importance in easy-to-find places. He burned his diary in his backyard so that nobody would ever find it and figure out what really went on in his mind. Everything was perfect, it was late afternoon, so Jack got in his car, and began to drive.
**
Jack had been driving for what felt like hours, though the sun was still not set. His phone started ringing from where it was sitting in his cars cup holder;
calling...
alex
Jack smiled to himself, Alex was right on time. A bridge was coming in to view and a heavy peace settled on Jack; he could finally breathe.
**
Alex was panicking. Jack was not answering his phone - was he too late? Letters took so long to reach the recipient, but surely he would have heard if he...
Alex pressed redial when he heard nothing from Jack’s phone but a dead tone. Surely this cryptic letter couldn’t be the last thing he would ever hear from him. He looked back down to the letter in his hands, which simply requested:
Alexander, would you please sing Remembering Sunday at my funeral?
No. No, Alex couldn’t believe this. This wasn’t happening. He started crying, ringing and ringing Jack’s phone, receiving no answer time after time, but when he’d almost lost hope, the line crackled and Jack’s voice rang out clear as day.
“I love you. Just know that.”
Then the line went dead. Alex couldn’t breathe.
**
Now Jack’s hands were steady on the steering wheel and his heart was racing as he reached his final destination. He put the pedal to the floor, the car gathered speed, going faster and faster, and he finally swerved, his head smashing into the windshield as his car broke through the bridges side barrier and sailed over the edge, plummeting into the river below.
The last thing Jack felt was perfect weightlessness, before he no longer knew anything.