literature

Viktor.

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Literature Text

It was the summer of 2004. It was one of those summers that you never forget. The type of summer where the sun plays off of the clouds just right and the birds sing loud enough to cover up the noise of your breaking heart.The type of summer that makes you wonder: will it ever get better than this? (and, trust me, it won't.)
His name was Viktor. We met right before our ninth grade year started, as the leaves faded from green to yellow. He had been homeschooled most of his life and when I saw him that day at the park with his sisters, all I could feel was jealousy. He was a thin boy with thick black hair that usually covered both of his eyes. He wore baggy wool sweaters and tight blue jeans.He had the body of a God, even if he didn't think so. I would often tell him he was beautiful. He would deny it and curse at me under his breath. I would only smile.
I made pictures in the sand on the beach while he was busy pushing blades into his veins. He didn't find himself deserving of life. I found him deserving of everything.
For the third time in the year that we'd known eachother, he was in the hospital. And for the third time that year, I was right there with him. I remember various needles and cords running from him to machines and back to him. I remember his heavy breathing as I stared into his eyes.
"Why did you do it, Viktor?" I felt myself asking, as I brushed the tears off of my face and watched them land on my best friend's hospital bed.
"I'm doing the world a favor," he said, as he closed his light brown eyes.
I drew in closer to him.
"You're stupid." I whispered.
He nodded, trying not to disconnect any of his wires or tubes, as he let a small laugh escape his flawless lips.
A week after he got out of the hospital, I found myself walking to his apartment.  As I reached his door, I knocked. I heard someone mutter from inside. I opened the door, assuming I was to do so at that mumble. It was his mother who mumbled. She was, as usual, sitting in front  of  the television, with a cigarette in hand.
"Is Viktor home?" I asked.
"He's in his room." She spatted out, I could smell the whiskey radiating from her very being.
"Thanks."
I headed down the small hallway, trying to ignore the peeling green wallpaper. His bedroom door was open and he was sitting on the stained carpet reading a book. I walked right on in. He was more than happy to see me.
We walked to the near-by park. The crumbling buildings greeted us as our feet guided us by. We sat on the grass and looked up at the clouds.
"That one looks like a heart." He said, gazing up at the sky.
Almost as if by his command, the cloud he was looking at broke into two different clouds.
"This always happens, doesn't it?"
I stared deep into his eyes. He stared back into mine. I felt my hands being drawn near to his face, caressing it, holding it. I drew my face in, and I let my lips brush his. Just a little at first, pressing them harder together as time went on. I expected him to pull away, but instead he just looked up at me.
"I love you." He said.
I've always loved you, I thought.
He continued to look at the sky as he said "Do you think God hates us?"
"Why?" I asked.
"Because we just kissed."
"Is this because we're both boys?"
"Yes."
"Well, I don't know. But if he does, so be it."
The next day I asked him what he wanted to be when he grew up. He smiled up at me and said "I think I'd like to be alive for once in my life."

Today I stand at his grave, wondering why he never told me that he didn't know how to stay happy and keep on living and wondering why I never told him I loved him too.
When I can't sleep, I write.
When I write, things like this are created.

Sorry that I didn't mention that the main character (the one who's point of view it's written in) was male earlier on. I guess that was your job to figure out. :)
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The-Cupcake-Gypsy's avatar
woah, talk about FTW ._.