Demolition Lovers, Crimson Rose [short story to read .TXT] 📗
- Author: Crimson Rose
Book online «Demolition Lovers, Crimson Rose [short story to read .TXT] 📗». Author Crimson Rose
are chemistry. Chemistry of love. Sumio is my chemical romance. I can’t think of a life without him. When I close my eyes, trying to sleep in bed without him beside me <b> sometimes I think I’ll die alone. Why do I even think of such a terrible thing? Sumio is not going anywhere… Or is he? So that’s our beginning! <b> And we can run, from the backdrop of these gears and scalpels. At every hour goes the tick-tock bang of monitors as they started us down when we met in the emergency room, and in our beds, I could hear you breathe with help from the cold machines…
***
People used to tell me “You’re young, and strong and handsome as well. I don’t understand why you would try to hurt yourself.”. Like anyone asked about their opinions. My scars are beautiful, can’t they see?! Sumio kisses them, and it makes them even more special. Sumio also has scars on him, and boy do they make me horny! Unlike me, he doesn’t cut. He uses himself as a portable cigarette holder. He also offered me to extinguish my cigarettes on him, but a force in me stops me.
He has an issue with fire. Once, in the middle of the summer, he offered that we light a fire in the fireplace. Also, in his one-bedroom apartment, he has about a thousand candles, the wax melted, messing up the carpet and the furniture. But it makes his house smell nice and romantic. It reminds me of a starry night. But he disagrees. It’s as if he hates them, but can’t live without them either. He asked me <b> “Night time sky? Can you take this spike? Will it wash away this jet black feeling?”.
Sometimes he talks so poetically. Especially when he’s drunk. Oh how he loves whiskey! And the things he whispers in my ear once he had drunken a bottle or two! He told me <b> “I’ll never let them hurt you, I promise.”. When I asked him who was going to hurt me, he just kept on saying over and over again <b> “Can you stake my heart? Can you stake my heart?...”. Then he took the bottle of whisky and spilled it all over him. I just stayed there, watching, until I saw he was trying to light a match. He was so drunk, he even failed to do that, and thank god he did, or this would end up being worse than just a juicy scar. I took him to the bathroom, and gave him a bath. I took away his matches just in case…
***
Once we were freed from the hospital that we’ve spent three weeks in, I had nowhere to go. My parents had come for a ‘decent’ visit in the hospital, saying I was 16 and already making my own decisions such as ending my life. I was on my own. I did not object, because I already had had an argument with them, saying that I wanted to have my own apartment room. They were over protective, but now that they saw that they weren’t capable of protecting me, they were letting go. Forever.
Sumio had an apartment. I didn’t dare ask him whether I could stay with him or not, so it was him who offered for me to stay. He gave me no deadline to move out. So I stayed there, until we were paying the rent together.
At the time I was 16, and he was 22. We had a six year age difference, but he looked oh so younger! People would refer to him as ‘your little friend’. He had a face like angels. We have an inside joke. To wake him up I whisper in his ear <b> “Stolen from my eyes, hello angel.” He whispers back <b> “Tell me where are you. Tell me where we go from here." And together <b> “This broken city sky.”. That’s usually about the time when we start to make-out in bed. His face is soft against mine. And by the time we split apart, his face is red. We kiss hard. That’s how we start the day. It’s been going on like this for 9 months now. We truly love each other…
***
My parents called. First time in 9 whole months. And they want me back. I’ve been waiting for this day to come. So I replied on autopilot <b> “Well I’ll choose the life I’ve taken, never mind the friends I’m making.” And without waiting for a reply I hung up. Once I hung up, I felt dizzy. Like I was about to puke. I saw the walls getting closer, <b> and I think I’ll blow my brains against the ceiling. I need a razor or a knife. And fast.
When Sumio found me, I had dirtied his rug with blood. These hands, stained red are so guilty. But he was calm, as always. He sat me literally on his lap. I put my head against his shoulder. He cleaned my cut, which wasn’t too deep, but deep enough. Then he wrapped it with bandages he kept in the pantry. Once he was done, we just stayed like that. Quiet. Peaceful. It was him who broke the silence after an hour <b> “Oh how wrong we were to think immortality meant never dying.” I buried my face in his shirt, trying to understand what he could’ve meant. But sometimes understanding may not be always necessary, because I know that whatever he says, he says it with love and care. And we fell asleep, just like that.
When I woke up, Sumio was gone. He probably had a course. He has been studying museum management, and he takes school seriously. On the other hand, I go to the local highschool, only the days I feel like it. In a year it’s my turn to start college. I’ve got no idea on what I’ll do for a living. I’m satisfied with my part-time-job in 7eleven. It feels like I can retire as being a cashier. Though, it feels unfair. Sumio goes to college and has an actual job. He works in a gallery three times a week. Hah! I guess he’s the man in our relationship where as I’m the no-good housewife. Though, as I mentioned before, he’s the one with the pretty face. Oh how his lips go red once I touch him! How gentle he is when pulling on my hair while making out! And when we make out, that’s a different story. His tongue <b> falls on your tongue like pixie dust, just think happy thoughts…
***
Sumio, Sumio, Sumio… All I can think of is Sumio. I wish he never had to go anywhere. <b> Late dawns and early sunsets. I wish the nights were longer. Don’t I just love the nights! The bed, warm sheets. His naked thigh against mine. Am I being disgusting? Pervert like? But it’s the truth. It’s not just his words and tenderness I love in him. Isn’t it obvious? I can talk about his soft skin forever.
I can’t understand how people find gay people gross. Not that we are gay! We have no gender. I think it’s the stupidest thing to limit your soulmate options with gender borders. That’s what we are…soulmates…
We were walking down the street when this biker dude stuck his foot out to trip me –making fun of us for being in love-. Don’t be fooled by his innocent face. Sumio broke the biker dudes nose. <b> And after seeing what we saw, can we still reclaim our innocence?
Despite his calm characteristic, when angry he’s such a heart breaker and so fierce. <b> As ice cold hands rip into your heart. That’s if you’ve still got one that’s left, inside that cave you call a chest… Oh, it would be the world’s end if we were ever to break up! Or in the minimum have a fight… That’s right! Not once have we had a fight! Though we were close to have one… No shouts. No, Sumio doesn’t shout. He gives you the silent treatment. And it’s worse. It’s as if he’s dead when he’s upset. He’s a soul. <b> But does anyone notice, there’s a corpse in this bed? And it doesn’t matter whether if you are right or if you’re wrong. No matter what, you’ll <b> be the first to say I’m sorry.
Our fighting topic was just so stupid. I wanted to drop out of school. What’s the need to go to school…when you literally don’t go anyways most of the time? He just shrugged and didn’t say a word. As I said, this wasn’t an actual argument. I took his silent treatment for a week. He would come home a bit late, going to bed just a bit too early. We were on odd sides of the bed. Tense it was, and painful too. <b> As days fade, and nights grow, and we go cold. I almost went insane. <b> Let me break this awkward silence… Now. Now. Now. So I did.
“Sumio?”
“Hm?”
“I’m sorry. It was stupid of me to even think of quitting school…”
“Guinevere?”
“Yes?”
“I love you.”
<b> “Stolen from my eyes, hello angel.”
“Tell me where are you, tell me where we go from here.”
And together <b> “This broken city sky.”
I love the asshole. I truly do. You can guess what happened next.
***
Lately Sumio has been drinking, more than usual. Again, when he was drunk like a sailor, he pleaded “Tell me the story over again!”. He does this every time he succeeds to still be awake after drinking all night. “Guinevere, tell me how we met.”. This was going onto Of Mice and Men all over again. “Well, we were two unhappy boys…”. Like he didn’t know he asked “Unhappy? Guinevere, why were we unhappy?”. Every time I tried to make it sound more and more poetically <b> “We could be perfect one last night, and never be afraid again. We’ve only got one chance to put this to an end.” but I knew my poetry was incomparable to his. “Lights some candles, and honey? Tell me why we were sad.” That’s what he does. Lights candles whenever thinking of the past. Of the dark ages. So I went on with telling out tale…
I was a little boy when my dad left me and my bitch. It had become a routine by now; leaving us, coming back, leaving us, coming back and so on… My mom was sick of the situation. She would tell me <b> “Let’s say goodbye, the hundredth time. A kiss goodbye!”. I needed a figure to call ’a dad’. In the mean while my English teacher, Mr. Gordon, was rather nice towards me. So I became the teacher’s pet. What happened? He raped me. I was only 10. What did I do? Nothing. No. Fucking. Thing. And he made sure of it. He explained that if I were to tell my parents or anyone, no one would like me anymore. I would be a disgrace, an outcast. Then as if it was just a regular English lesson, he made me spell out disgrace and outcast.
The day before I slid the razor across my arm, I read the news paper…an article about him. A girl (age 11) had reported him. But he was found NOT GUILTY. He’s out there, doing the same things to other children as what he did to me. And his picture in the paper…showed me he hadn’t changed a bit.
About Sumio’s reasons; we like to sugar it up a
***
People used to tell me “You’re young, and strong and handsome as well. I don’t understand why you would try to hurt yourself.”. Like anyone asked about their opinions. My scars are beautiful, can’t they see?! Sumio kisses them, and it makes them even more special. Sumio also has scars on him, and boy do they make me horny! Unlike me, he doesn’t cut. He uses himself as a portable cigarette holder. He also offered me to extinguish my cigarettes on him, but a force in me stops me.
He has an issue with fire. Once, in the middle of the summer, he offered that we light a fire in the fireplace. Also, in his one-bedroom apartment, he has about a thousand candles, the wax melted, messing up the carpet and the furniture. But it makes his house smell nice and romantic. It reminds me of a starry night. But he disagrees. It’s as if he hates them, but can’t live without them either. He asked me <b> “Night time sky? Can you take this spike? Will it wash away this jet black feeling?”.
Sometimes he talks so poetically. Especially when he’s drunk. Oh how he loves whiskey! And the things he whispers in my ear once he had drunken a bottle or two! He told me <b> “I’ll never let them hurt you, I promise.”. When I asked him who was going to hurt me, he just kept on saying over and over again <b> “Can you stake my heart? Can you stake my heart?...”. Then he took the bottle of whisky and spilled it all over him. I just stayed there, watching, until I saw he was trying to light a match. He was so drunk, he even failed to do that, and thank god he did, or this would end up being worse than just a juicy scar. I took him to the bathroom, and gave him a bath. I took away his matches just in case…
***
Once we were freed from the hospital that we’ve spent three weeks in, I had nowhere to go. My parents had come for a ‘decent’ visit in the hospital, saying I was 16 and already making my own decisions such as ending my life. I was on my own. I did not object, because I already had had an argument with them, saying that I wanted to have my own apartment room. They were over protective, but now that they saw that they weren’t capable of protecting me, they were letting go. Forever.
Sumio had an apartment. I didn’t dare ask him whether I could stay with him or not, so it was him who offered for me to stay. He gave me no deadline to move out. So I stayed there, until we were paying the rent together.
At the time I was 16, and he was 22. We had a six year age difference, but he looked oh so younger! People would refer to him as ‘your little friend’. He had a face like angels. We have an inside joke. To wake him up I whisper in his ear <b> “Stolen from my eyes, hello angel.” He whispers back <b> “Tell me where are you. Tell me where we go from here." And together <b> “This broken city sky.”. That’s usually about the time when we start to make-out in bed. His face is soft against mine. And by the time we split apart, his face is red. We kiss hard. That’s how we start the day. It’s been going on like this for 9 months now. We truly love each other…
***
My parents called. First time in 9 whole months. And they want me back. I’ve been waiting for this day to come. So I replied on autopilot <b> “Well I’ll choose the life I’ve taken, never mind the friends I’m making.” And without waiting for a reply I hung up. Once I hung up, I felt dizzy. Like I was about to puke. I saw the walls getting closer, <b> and I think I’ll blow my brains against the ceiling. I need a razor or a knife. And fast.
When Sumio found me, I had dirtied his rug with blood. These hands, stained red are so guilty. But he was calm, as always. He sat me literally on his lap. I put my head against his shoulder. He cleaned my cut, which wasn’t too deep, but deep enough. Then he wrapped it with bandages he kept in the pantry. Once he was done, we just stayed like that. Quiet. Peaceful. It was him who broke the silence after an hour <b> “Oh how wrong we were to think immortality meant never dying.” I buried my face in his shirt, trying to understand what he could’ve meant. But sometimes understanding may not be always necessary, because I know that whatever he says, he says it with love and care. And we fell asleep, just like that.
When I woke up, Sumio was gone. He probably had a course. He has been studying museum management, and he takes school seriously. On the other hand, I go to the local highschool, only the days I feel like it. In a year it’s my turn to start college. I’ve got no idea on what I’ll do for a living. I’m satisfied with my part-time-job in 7eleven. It feels like I can retire as being a cashier. Though, it feels unfair. Sumio goes to college and has an actual job. He works in a gallery three times a week. Hah! I guess he’s the man in our relationship where as I’m the no-good housewife. Though, as I mentioned before, he’s the one with the pretty face. Oh how his lips go red once I touch him! How gentle he is when pulling on my hair while making out! And when we make out, that’s a different story. His tongue <b> falls on your tongue like pixie dust, just think happy thoughts…
***
Sumio, Sumio, Sumio… All I can think of is Sumio. I wish he never had to go anywhere. <b> Late dawns and early sunsets. I wish the nights were longer. Don’t I just love the nights! The bed, warm sheets. His naked thigh against mine. Am I being disgusting? Pervert like? But it’s the truth. It’s not just his words and tenderness I love in him. Isn’t it obvious? I can talk about his soft skin forever.
I can’t understand how people find gay people gross. Not that we are gay! We have no gender. I think it’s the stupidest thing to limit your soulmate options with gender borders. That’s what we are…soulmates…
We were walking down the street when this biker dude stuck his foot out to trip me –making fun of us for being in love-. Don’t be fooled by his innocent face. Sumio broke the biker dudes nose. <b> And after seeing what we saw, can we still reclaim our innocence?
Despite his calm characteristic, when angry he’s such a heart breaker and so fierce. <b> As ice cold hands rip into your heart. That’s if you’ve still got one that’s left, inside that cave you call a chest… Oh, it would be the world’s end if we were ever to break up! Or in the minimum have a fight… That’s right! Not once have we had a fight! Though we were close to have one… No shouts. No, Sumio doesn’t shout. He gives you the silent treatment. And it’s worse. It’s as if he’s dead when he’s upset. He’s a soul. <b> But does anyone notice, there’s a corpse in this bed? And it doesn’t matter whether if you are right or if you’re wrong. No matter what, you’ll <b> be the first to say I’m sorry.
Our fighting topic was just so stupid. I wanted to drop out of school. What’s the need to go to school…when you literally don’t go anyways most of the time? He just shrugged and didn’t say a word. As I said, this wasn’t an actual argument. I took his silent treatment for a week. He would come home a bit late, going to bed just a bit too early. We were on odd sides of the bed. Tense it was, and painful too. <b> As days fade, and nights grow, and we go cold. I almost went insane. <b> Let me break this awkward silence… Now. Now. Now. So I did.
“Sumio?”
“Hm?”
“I’m sorry. It was stupid of me to even think of quitting school…”
“Guinevere?”
“Yes?”
“I love you.”
<b> “Stolen from my eyes, hello angel.”
“Tell me where are you, tell me where we go from here.”
And together <b> “This broken city sky.”
I love the asshole. I truly do. You can guess what happened next.
***
Lately Sumio has been drinking, more than usual. Again, when he was drunk like a sailor, he pleaded “Tell me the story over again!”. He does this every time he succeeds to still be awake after drinking all night. “Guinevere, tell me how we met.”. This was going onto Of Mice and Men all over again. “Well, we were two unhappy boys…”. Like he didn’t know he asked “Unhappy? Guinevere, why were we unhappy?”. Every time I tried to make it sound more and more poetically <b> “We could be perfect one last night, and never be afraid again. We’ve only got one chance to put this to an end.” but I knew my poetry was incomparable to his. “Lights some candles, and honey? Tell me why we were sad.” That’s what he does. Lights candles whenever thinking of the past. Of the dark ages. So I went on with telling out tale…
I was a little boy when my dad left me and my bitch. It had become a routine by now; leaving us, coming back, leaving us, coming back and so on… My mom was sick of the situation. She would tell me <b> “Let’s say goodbye, the hundredth time. A kiss goodbye!”. I needed a figure to call ’a dad’. In the mean while my English teacher, Mr. Gordon, was rather nice towards me. So I became the teacher’s pet. What happened? He raped me. I was only 10. What did I do? Nothing. No. Fucking. Thing. And he made sure of it. He explained that if I were to tell my parents or anyone, no one would like me anymore. I would be a disgrace, an outcast. Then as if it was just a regular English lesson, he made me spell out disgrace and outcast.
The day before I slid the razor across my arm, I read the news paper…an article about him. A girl (age 11) had reported him. But he was found NOT GUILTY. He’s out there, doing the same things to other children as what he did to me. And his picture in the paper…showed me he hadn’t changed a bit.
About Sumio’s reasons; we like to sugar it up a
Free e-book «Demolition Lovers, Crimson Rose [short story to read .TXT] 📗» - read online now
Add a comment
Comments (0)