Moving On. (Chapter 3)
READ "MEMORIES", THEN CHAPTER 1, THEN CHAPTER 2 OF THIS STORY FIRST!!
Hey, dudes. I think it is time to keep going. So, last time, we introduced a new character in Chris, a young fox who has had a similar fate to damien's. They talked, and eventually started walking out of the graveyard, and began reminiscing . What shall happen in this chapter? Let's find out...
"They both began walking through the park, sharing their fondest memories of their fallen loves."
"Haha, yeah, Garry was exactly like that, too!" Damien said, laughing.
"Yeah, Tom was such a joker at times. Did I tell you he was straight at first?" Chris asked.
"Um...no, you actually didn't. Ya know, that's even stranger, because Garry was too! Man, we find more things in common every minute, don't we?" Damien said, grinning at the weird coincidences him and the fox seemed to share.
Chris looked very surprised. "Oh, really?" He said. "I guess we do have a lot in common, eh? When is your birthday?"
Damien, confused, said "February 26"
Chris said; "Oh my God, mine's august 2nd! We must be clones!" Chris said jokingly. "Aww, man. It's getting dark. i better be heading home. Well, how about you give me a call? I have had a lot of fun talking with you." Chris wrote his number on a piece of paper, which Damien took gently, as to not bend the paper.
"Ah, yeah. I'll give you mine, too. " Damien proceeded to write his own number down, and give it to the fox. With that, both of them left to go to their respective houses; alone.
Damien pulled up to his driveway, opened the car door, and walked to his front door. He tried to unlock the door, but he was still so nervous and twitchy, it's as if he forgot how to properly use keys. However, with enough persistence, he finally got the key in the lock, turned it, and opened the door. He slammed the door shut, and quickly ran to his room, almost collapsing on his bed.
Damien quickly pulled out the paper from his pocket, and stared at it. He gave a chuckle at the pink pen Chris used. "Ah, he's always so flamboyant." Damien said, as if talking about a long time lover, or best friend. He kinda gave himself a weird look, before going to pick up the phone. His fingers hovered over the first button. They were shaking in nervousness before he slammed the phone back on the hook.
Damien's eyes started to water. He told himself he would never let someone else effect him like this, but here he was, nervous as a giddy schoolboy over this fox he had just met. In a graveyard, no less! The craziness of it all drove Damien crazy! He couldn't believe how he was acting. Worst of all, was that he actually seemed to be....Happy about it.
On the other side of the city, Chris almost mirrored Damien's actions. However, when the fox finally got in his house, he fell on his knees on the floor; unable to support his own body weight. He began pounding the floor in anger and confusion. He thought, "How can this wolf I *just* met, be doing this kind of thing to me?!" Chris thought himself a fool, to be swayed so quickly, and so easily after his mate's death.
"Tom, I...miss you. I don't want to betray you for this wolf. That wouldn't be fair." Chris said to imaginary spectres. Chris reaches in his pocket, and pulled out the paper with the wolf's number on it. A few tears hit the paper, slightly distorting the ink, before Chris began ripping up the paper. He found the strength to get up, and walk to the kitchen. He then threw the shards of Damien's number into the trashcan.
"I'm sorry, Damien. I'm just..not ready. I still love Tom" Chris said, as if apologising Damien, who obviously could not hear him. The fox went into his own room, and feel onto his bed, and cried himself to sleep.
Damien sat on his bed, in confusion. Debating whether or not to call the cute fox. "Ha, *cute* fox?!" Damien said to himself, as if offended by his own thought. Damien had had more time to try to get over his love, so he was less distraught than Chris was....but his head, and his heart remained in conflict. The fox was ever present in Damien's mind now, as he was unable to stop thinking about him.
He couldn't help but think how fit Chris looked in that tight, black shirt he wore. Those pants...phew, those were a knockout! You would never think he would be at a grave site. More like at a club. They were also tight, and leather. You could see the fox's sheath bulging through them. "Oh, god! Now I'm thinking about his sheath!" Damien exclaimed, covering his face in his paws in embarrassment.
"that's it, I *have* to call him!" Damien said confidently. He picked up the phone, and went to dial the numbers. However....He froze again, and slammed the phone down. "I...can't do this. Not yet, at least. I'll give it a little more time, I suppose" Damien said.
Damien laid the paper next to the phone, and just laid in bed and stared up at the ceiling. He ran his fingers through his hair, and wonder; "What am I gonna do? If i call him, that might be too risky. What if he turns me down? On the other hand...what if he says yes? Am i truly ready for another relationship?" Damien started to tear up. "I...wish you were still here, Garry. I miss you so much!" Damien said as he burst into tears, his mind so conflicted with his heart.
Damien stayed there; crying his eyes out. He didn't know what to do. He knew he'd figure it out, but right now...all he could think of was his past love, now. This day was so hectic for him and hos heart. "Blink 182 said it best. I suppose tomorrow might bring better days." Damien said as he silently fell asleep, mentally and physically exhausted.
We see the fox on the other side of the city again, now awake. The white sink now sported drops of crimson; ie, the Fox's own blood. The blood drained in the sink slowly, swirling until finally gone. The fox stands there, razor blade in hand. He slowly drags it across one of his wrists, causing his skin to split open, and more blood to be spilled into the once white, pristine sink.
The fox gave a sigh of relief at this. Cutting: His own personal release. He knew how idiotic it was to do such a thing, but it worked. Oh lord, did it work. He didn't made many on his lower arms. Usually in different places that can't be seen on an average day. Chris could not believe he stooped so low, but he was there. He hated what he was doing, but it helped. As far as he was concerned ,it was the right thing to do.
Now, don't misunderstand His motives. Chris is not suicidal. Most people who cut actually aren't. However, also like most people, Chris could not deal with his pain anymore. This seemingly good meeting with Damien brought up feelings Chris wanted to forget.
Chris went to lay in his bed, once again. His wrists bandaged up, he relaxed finally. Chris started to drift off to sleep very slowly. When his eyes finally shut, his last thought was, ironically..."Damien..."
And there you have it, dudes. I will call this clean ,as it only had a small mention of a sheath, but someone correct me if i am wrong. Also, this chapter is longer. i should have at least one longer one, in my opinion. anyway...hope yall enjoy.