Sending letters to the grave.
Title: Sending letters to the grave.
Pairing: Gabilliam
Word count: 1,456
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Mentions of death and suicide.
Notes: Okay, I know it's shit. I started this at 3 in the morning... a lot of my fics are written in the early hours of the morning and on Sundays lmfao. Have fun.
To my beautiful baby boy, William,
It has been a year now.
I find it hard, William. I really do. I don’t think you understand. Well, you can’t understand because you’re not here anymore…
Travie tries to look after me, but I don’t think he understands either. No one ever got me like you did. You knew everything about me, my past, my present, my hopes and dreams. But then again, you were all of them. You were my future, as well. I was hoping that maybe one day I could slip a ring on your finger and officially call you mine. It never happened. I was hoping we could adopt a baby or two seeing as we can’t have our own… It never happened. I was hoping that we would grow old together and still be as in love as we were ‘all those years ago‘.
It will never happen.
Sometimes I feel a little angry with you because you left me. I can’t help it, baby, and I’m so sorry. It’s just so hard for me, especially at night. Your side of the bed is always empty and cold and I wish you were there to cuddle with me on the dark nights where I feel so alone. Sometimes I sit up and play your songs on your old guitar. I hope you don’t mind, but it helps me to feel better and think straight. I don’t think straight very often these days.
Everything’s so dark to me now. Pete says I’m not my usual self anymore. Of course I’m not my ’usual self’. I don’t think I’ll ever be my usual self again. How can I act normal if you’re not here? Everyone expects me to just snap out of this someday, like it‘s just some sort of phase. Suddenly the old Gabe will appear, cheerful and wasted, in a puff of smoke. It’s not going to happen.
I remember the last time I saw you. You were so cold, ice cold, and I held your hand tight, my thumb gently brushing over your knuckles like I always used to. You didn’t squeeze mine in return. You didn’t say anything. And it was only when the cloth was drawn back over you that I broke down, collapsing to the floor of the morgue, my sobs bouncing off of the surrounding walls. Your parents left me there clinging to the blanket that covered your body as if my life depended on it, begging and pleading for you to just wake up. Everyone felt sorry for your little, lost boyfriend. I didn’t want sympathy, I wanted you. You weren’t dead. You were William Beckett, happy, smiling William Beckett. You were going to wake up any second… But you just remained there, still and lifeless, the blood that was originally seeping from the gash on your head caked in your hair, the bruise on your stomach where the car had struck you bright and bold.
I sat there for hours by your side, telling you stories of how we met and of the first time we sung on stage together, combing the dried blood from your hair gently, lovingly… I also told you about our plans for the future and the names that I wanted our children to be called… I proposed to you right there and right then, too.
I never did get an answer from you.
When you didn’t wake up that night, I felt like something had disappeared from inside of me. I was empty. I’m still empty. The flame that was you extinguished as it hit me that you had left. I felt comforting hands wrap around me and they tried to lead me from the room but I couldn’t leave you, William. I couldn’t leave you on your own. I knew you got scared when I wasn’t there…. They left me beside you for another hour, pressing tissues into my hand as I left the morgue. As I left you. After that day… I never saw you again.
The funeral was awful. I sat on the front pew with your mother, your father and your sister. The three of them clung together, seeking comfort in one another. I could see and feel their pain but they were going to help each other through this… No one held me. No one held me as I rose to make a speech, choking out lost words about you between my tears, as my knees buckled beneath me and I clung to the plinth to stop myself from curling up on the floor, sobbing from where the shards of my heart pierced my lungs, making me struggle for breath. No one held me.
And as your coffin was lowered into the ground, still no one held me. You would have. But… but you weren’t there. Your mourners took handfuls of soil to drop on top of your coffin and as everyone dropped theirs, bidding silent goodbyes, I didn’t want to let go of my handful because I didn’t want to let go of you. I didn’t want to say goodbye. But I had to.
I was the only one who stayed until you were completely buried. And that night, I slept by your side. By your graveside. I left you with a single rose on top of your coffin and a dozen letters inside. Each one as tear stained as the last.
I also left a ring on your ring finger… engraved with our names and the date of our first date. Wedding rings. I could kid myself, right?
I kid myself too much. I think up all these far fetched scenarios where you weren’t really dead, it was a mistake and you’re safe and healthy somewhere. I need to stop believing that you’re coming home because you’re not. I should carry on with my life...
But I like holding onto you. Holding onto our memories. I’m keeping you alive. I’m keeping your memory alive. Even though you’re not…
You never will read this letter. I write to you every week. They’re all sealed in a box in our closet, each addressed to you, a little heart in the top right hand corner, the letter number in the left. This is letter number 52. So yeah, today is the anniversary of your death. There’s still no one here to hold me. Travie and Pete aren’t even here to help me get through this day , no one bothers coming to see me anyway because they just don’t know what to say. I don’t blame them. It’s all awkward forced conversation and forced smiles and forced happiness. I know they want to give up on me and I know they want me to give up on you, but I can’t. I can’t move on, William. I can’t do it.
I talk to you every night too before I curl up in bed, hugging the pillows you used to sleep on. I still leave the landing light on like you always used to, in case you needed the bathroom at night and didn’t want to stumble around in the dark… I miss little things like that.
I miss you. So bad. I look forward to the day when I see you again, wherever you are… I’ve considered downing all of the sleeping pills the doctor prescribed me in one go, so I can see you sooner. I will do it one day, just for you, darling. Maybe tomorrow, maybe tonight. Maybe after I have sealed this letter and added it to the stash hidden amongst your endless amount of shoes. I need to be with you.
I think I will…
I’ve just sat and lined up all of the tablets I need. The front door is locked so no one can barge in and stop me. I’m ready to come join you now. I have nothing to hold on for any more, but I’m surprised that I managed to hold on this long… I considered it the day I found out you were dead. I considered killing myself next to you in the morgue. I considered it by your graveside every single fucking day. And I know you’re frowning down upon me right now, you don’t want me to do this. You think I have so much to live for. But I don’t. I need you, William. I can’t breathe without you and I feel like I’m suffocating in this twisted world.
I hope you understand because I’m doing this for you.
I love you so fucking much and I will see you soon, baby. I will see you soon.
I promise.
Lots and lots and lots of love, hugs and kisses,
Your loving boyfriend fiance.
Gabe.
Pairing: Gabilliam
Word count: 1,456
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Mentions of death and suicide.
Notes: Okay, I know it's shit. I started this at 3 in the morning... a lot of my fics are written in the early hours of the morning and on Sundays lmfao. Have fun.
To my beautiful baby boy, William,
It has been a year now.
I find it hard, William. I really do. I don’t think you understand. Well, you can’t understand because you’re not here anymore…
Travie tries to look after me, but I don’t think he understands either. No one ever got me like you did. You knew everything about me, my past, my present, my hopes and dreams. But then again, you were all of them. You were my future, as well. I was hoping that maybe one day I could slip a ring on your finger and officially call you mine. It never happened. I was hoping we could adopt a baby or two seeing as we can’t have our own… It never happened. I was hoping that we would grow old together and still be as in love as we were ‘all those years ago‘.
It will never happen.
Sometimes I feel a little angry with you because you left me. I can’t help it, baby, and I’m so sorry. It’s just so hard for me, especially at night. Your side of the bed is always empty and cold and I wish you were there to cuddle with me on the dark nights where I feel so alone. Sometimes I sit up and play your songs on your old guitar. I hope you don’t mind, but it helps me to feel better and think straight. I don’t think straight very often these days.
Everything’s so dark to me now. Pete says I’m not my usual self anymore. Of course I’m not my ’usual self’. I don’t think I’ll ever be my usual self again. How can I act normal if you’re not here? Everyone expects me to just snap out of this someday, like it‘s just some sort of phase. Suddenly the old Gabe will appear, cheerful and wasted, in a puff of smoke. It’s not going to happen.
I remember the last time I saw you. You were so cold, ice cold, and I held your hand tight, my thumb gently brushing over your knuckles like I always used to. You didn’t squeeze mine in return. You didn’t say anything. And it was only when the cloth was drawn back over you that I broke down, collapsing to the floor of the morgue, my sobs bouncing off of the surrounding walls. Your parents left me there clinging to the blanket that covered your body as if my life depended on it, begging and pleading for you to just wake up. Everyone felt sorry for your little, lost boyfriend. I didn’t want sympathy, I wanted you. You weren’t dead. You were William Beckett, happy, smiling William Beckett. You were going to wake up any second… But you just remained there, still and lifeless, the blood that was originally seeping from the gash on your head caked in your hair, the bruise on your stomach where the car had struck you bright and bold.
I sat there for hours by your side, telling you stories of how we met and of the first time we sung on stage together, combing the dried blood from your hair gently, lovingly… I also told you about our plans for the future and the names that I wanted our children to be called… I proposed to you right there and right then, too.
I never did get an answer from you.
When you didn’t wake up that night, I felt like something had disappeared from inside of me. I was empty. I’m still empty. The flame that was you extinguished as it hit me that you had left. I felt comforting hands wrap around me and they tried to lead me from the room but I couldn’t leave you, William. I couldn’t leave you on your own. I knew you got scared when I wasn’t there…. They left me beside you for another hour, pressing tissues into my hand as I left the morgue. As I left you. After that day… I never saw you again.
The funeral was awful. I sat on the front pew with your mother, your father and your sister. The three of them clung together, seeking comfort in one another. I could see and feel their pain but they were going to help each other through this… No one held me. No one held me as I rose to make a speech, choking out lost words about you between my tears, as my knees buckled beneath me and I clung to the plinth to stop myself from curling up on the floor, sobbing from where the shards of my heart pierced my lungs, making me struggle for breath. No one held me.
And as your coffin was lowered into the ground, still no one held me. You would have. But… but you weren’t there. Your mourners took handfuls of soil to drop on top of your coffin and as everyone dropped theirs, bidding silent goodbyes, I didn’t want to let go of my handful because I didn’t want to let go of you. I didn’t want to say goodbye. But I had to.
I was the only one who stayed until you were completely buried. And that night, I slept by your side. By your graveside. I left you with a single rose on top of your coffin and a dozen letters inside. Each one as tear stained as the last.
I also left a ring on your ring finger… engraved with our names and the date of our first date. Wedding rings. I could kid myself, right?
I kid myself too much. I think up all these far fetched scenarios where you weren’t really dead, it was a mistake and you’re safe and healthy somewhere. I need to stop believing that you’re coming home because you’re not. I should carry on with my life...
But I like holding onto you. Holding onto our memories. I’m keeping you alive. I’m keeping your memory alive. Even though you’re not…
You never will read this letter. I write to you every week. They’re all sealed in a box in our closet, each addressed to you, a little heart in the top right hand corner, the letter number in the left. This is letter number 52. So yeah, today is the anniversary of your death. There’s still no one here to hold me. Travie and Pete aren’t even here to help me get through this day , no one bothers coming to see me anyway because they just don’t know what to say. I don’t blame them. It’s all awkward forced conversation and forced smiles and forced happiness. I know they want to give up on me and I know they want me to give up on you, but I can’t. I can’t move on, William. I can’t do it.
I talk to you every night too before I curl up in bed, hugging the pillows you used to sleep on. I still leave the landing light on like you always used to, in case you needed the bathroom at night and didn’t want to stumble around in the dark… I miss little things like that.
I miss you. So bad. I look forward to the day when I see you again, wherever you are… I’ve considered downing all of the sleeping pills the doctor prescribed me in one go, so I can see you sooner. I will do it one day, just for you, darling. Maybe tomorrow, maybe tonight. Maybe after I have sealed this letter and added it to the stash hidden amongst your endless amount of shoes. I need to be with you.
I think I will…
I’ve just sat and lined up all of the tablets I need. The front door is locked so no one can barge in and stop me. I’m ready to come join you now. I have nothing to hold on for any more, but I’m surprised that I managed to hold on this long… I considered it the day I found out you were dead. I considered killing myself next to you in the morgue. I considered it by your graveside every single fucking day. And I know you’re frowning down upon me right now, you don’t want me to do this. You think I have so much to live for. But I don’t. I need you, William. I can’t breathe without you and I feel like I’m suffocating in this twisted world.
I hope you understand because I’m doing this for you.
I love you so fucking much and I will see you soon, baby. I will see you soon.
I promise.
Lots and lots and lots of love, hugs and kisses,
Your loving boyfriend fiance.
Gabe.