double suicide, one death

Achilles held the joint to his lips, though too far to take a puff. He supposed that was proof he still had a sliver of the self control he prided himself on. Whispers in the trees below fluttered up and around his thoughts, the little nothings in the wind comforting his throbbing head. 

“Achilles, Achilles, Achilles come down.”

He couldn't seem to pluck the words from the breeze as the oddly familiar notes flew by, subconsciously humming the tune. Where had he heard this before? Oh well, his memory had seemingly been lacking recently. He dragged the joint back from pale lips, still deep in thought. When had he brought the smoke to his mouth again?

 Achilles paid no mind, the ebony fog exhale extremely familiar in the foreign town. 3 years Achilles had been here. 3 years and he still had not mapped out the house he resided in. 3 years and street names were still distant memories. 

“Won't you get up off, get up off the roof?” 

Achilles froze. Get up off, get up off the roof. Why did that sound so familiar? Whipping his head to the left then violently to the right, what was it? The wind howled once more. Where had he heard that melody before? No matter how he racked his brain, Achilles could not recall. It angered him slightly.

 He could feel eyes on the small of his back. Where the gaze was coming from, he was unable to pinpoint. Achilles was sure he was alone. Mother was out, a wine tasting event being held in the town's gazebo. Father was dead, no need to worry about his whereabouts. Achilles was an only child, He was utterly alone this fading Sunday evening. At least that's what he kept insisting upon, as to keep his swelling paranoia at bay. 

“there may not be meaning So find one and seize it Do not waste yourself on this roof”

The wind grew fiercer, Achilles rocked unwillingly. The ledge he sat upon provided little to no traction against the forceful shoves of nature. The sun was set now, and the joint long gone. The eyes still remained, though Achilles could finally place the gaze to a face. 

“Remember your virtue, Redemption lies plainly in truth ”

As the boy walked towards Achilles his limbs faded in, almost as if he was a ghost.

Everything became hazy, and Achilles felt a wave of emotions wash over him. Guilt, fear, despair. All familiar, yet unwanted. The boy sat next to Achilles, attempting to grab his hands only to have them fall back to his sides. The music crescendoed once more as the boy weeped. He looked so familiar, why could Achilles not remember?

“Hurt and grieve but don't suffer alone. Engage with the pain as a motive!”

The boy in front of achilles tried again and again to grasp his hands, only to have them drift right through. Everything seemed to come alive, the trees, the wind, there was no silence as the phantom boy tried in vain to touch Achilles. Finally, in a last ditch attempt to reach the now fading Achilles, the boy grasped his face. Cupping Achilles cheeks with his cold hands. As the boy's ghost hands made contact with Achilles’ face, the flood gate opened. He remembered. Every misplaced emotion had a place, every passing thought a memory. The boy began to weep, and so did Achilles.

The boy had a name. Ansel. He was the love of Achilles' life. 3 years ago Ansel jumped to his death. 3 years ago Achilles attempted to

follow suit.

Achilles was sobbing now, whaling. Begging and pleading for Ansel to come back. Croaking back words and biting his tongue. the sea of questions that Achilles mind yearned to be answered were left unsaid.

Achilles couldn't bring himself to ask, he had a feeling he would get no answers anyhow.

Ansel's frigid hands stayed on Achilles face as he weeped, thumbs grazing over tears and whipping them away. The rooftop soon began to fade, the trees finally silent along with the wind. Until all that remained was Ansel and Achilles, in a void of black. 

“How the most dangerous thing is to love. How you will heal and you'll rise above."

With that final sentence, that final coard of their song, Ansel connected their lips. The world faded to nothing, and the only sound to be heard was the now erratic beep of the heart monitor, as Achilles finally opened his eyes.

"Ah it's more courageous to overcome.”

it was a whisper, barely spoken. As Achilles extended his arm toward the white ceiling, a futile attempt to grab the last of Ansel, His eyes burned. It was so bright. The white walls. The white sheets. They all reflected the sun so pungently it was almost too much to bare. Achilles brought his arm back down to his side. It was sore now, Achilles hadn't noticed the needles and bruises that littered it. He tried to speak, but all that exited his mouth was a huff of air and a sound scarily similar to a frog.

Achilles missed the roof, he missed the howling wind and the dancing trees. He missed Ansel.

In a last ditch attempt to kiss the boy one last time, Achilles screwed his eyes shut. In his mind he knew, he knew all along it was fruitless. He tried anyway.

He wanted darkness, he wanted the sweet crescendo of the little nothings that the wind carries. He wanted to feel that gaze on the small of his back. He wanted the void.

But no matter now tightly Achilles forced his eyes to close. No matter the pressure he placed on his sockets. The sun still remained. The back of his eyelids a light pink as nothing could stop the spread of Apollos warmth.

Achilles wept again. Silently this time. No familiar melodies, no crescendo of distant violins. Only the nauseating stench of bleach and the steady beep,

of a heart monitor.

I don't claim to own the song "Achilles come down" all rights go to Gang of Youths. I simply used their music as an inspiration for this. Ansel and Achilles are my own characters though along with the plot of this short story.