First off, this is Peterick. It takes a few paragraphs, but its there. This is also slash. If you have problems with love, don't read.

This is also set in an alternate-alternate world, not completely unlike our own, but in this world, when certain things happen to certain people, things must be done.

Even if that means, literally breaking a heart.

and so we go.


~
2 AM.

Most of the lights are off (gotta save that planet) but the overhead lamp is on, as is the one over the stove. It casts a not quite bright, nor dim light. The room is lit, I can see, but there are still patches of darkness.

My coffee cup is empty, just a half melted ice cube now and a few drops of watery milk.

Why am i still awake? I pour some more coffee. Its hot, and it melts the ice cube. I raise the porcelain to my lips, but something is wrong.

Something is always wrong.

I unconsciously lift my hand and brush it against my chest, where my heart should be. It's always involuntary, like blinking or breathing, but its happening now, more than ever. Several times a day, stopping to realize that I was clutching my heart.

But nothing's there! They said the pain should stop now, that it should be gone, non existent. I doubt they'd be happy to hear it still hurts.

"You haven't been taking your meds," they'd say. I have, all at the right times. Why wouldn't I? I so want to forget, so want to end the pain...

A stabbing feeling. I inhale sharply, slowly removing my hand, expecting to see what, I don't know. Blood, maybe. Just pouring out. a black hole, perhaps. I don't know.

But nothing is there. Just my breast pocket of my pale yellow shirt.

My chest still hurts.

Its a continuous throbbing, like a steady headache. In my chest, that is.

I eye the bottle of pills. Two by mouth, three times a day...

After breakfast, before lunch, before I go to sleep.

Since sleep is so rare nowadays, I've just been taking them after dinner.

I open the cap and let them spill onto the marble counter.

They're red capsules with black powder packed tightly inside. There's a little white mark in the shape of a heart printed on each of them.

BeeBeep!

I click off the small alarm clock and opened a second bottle of pills. These are a little bigger, and I only have to take them twice a day but I never know when to. The doctor gave me a little timer that always reset it self. All I have to do is keep it close by.

They are also capsules, bright yellow with white powder, and a black smiley face printed on each. The bottle was similar, white with a yellow smiley face label.

I take it dry, and go back to examining the heart pills. After a second and another sharp pain in my chest, causing me to wince, I decide, oh, what the heck, what's the worse that could happen?

I raise the pill to my lips, tipping it into my mouth, and swallow. It singes my throat as it goes down, and I cough. After about five seconds, the time the pill reaches my stomach, i think, well, that was a whole lotta--

And then my heart is on fire.  I suppose I'm screaming, but I really can't tell. I fall off the bar stool, I think, and fall onto the tiled floor.

I instantly fall asleep.

~~~~
He's in my dream, of course he is. And I actually thought I was making progress.

But no, there he is, standing as tranquil as always is my kitchen.

His eyes are closed, hair falling neatly across his face. He's wearing white clothing, it flows lightly on his body. His arms are crossed against his chest, a golden halo surrounds his head, and I see some feathers peeking out behind his shoulders.

he slowly opens his eyes and his expression instantly changes from peacefulness, to misery. Our gazes meet. His eyes soften.

"I'm waiting for you," he speaks softly. "Patrick, where are you?"

"I'm here Pete, I'm here. They cut out my heart, it severed everything." I slowly rise to my feet. It feels so good to finally see him again, I could break down sobbing.

"The reason it hurts so much," Pete says. "Is because our souls are connected."

He reached out his arm, fingertips nearly brushing my chest.

The hole where my heart was is on fire, it wants to explode outward. I gasp sharply, clutching the area, and Pete draws back. "I can't even touch you," there is a sad misery in his voice.

"Pete!" I say. "I miss you so much that I could die."

"Then why don't you?" he asks, totally serious.

I'm taken aback. "Pete... I can't. This is not the way it was meant to be. I don't even know if I can, or how."

"Then let me help you." He sounds eager to help me take my own life.

I thought he'd say something like, 'No, forget me Patrick.' At least, that's what happens in the books. But  Pete knows that that's not to ever happen, that I'll never forget. That each day its tear me apart more and more, slowly, starting with a rip, then a gash. And soon they'll find me, worse then lifeless.

I try to change the topic. "How's heaven?"

"Lonely and unbearable without you," he says, then adds, "Please, come to me. We both can't take this any longer."

"I..." I am lost, I have no choice. Pete's image is fading.

He says, "Call on me when you need me most, and I'll do the same to you. I love you, Patrick."

Then he is gone.

~~~~
I awake hours later on my kitchen floor, a drumming in my head from where it hit the floor. I whimper softly and pry my self into an upright position.

My chest is hurting even more, I lift up my shirt to examine the gap.

The hole is a little bigger than my fist, black, blue, and purple in color, and... oh, crap. It's taking in a red sheen, red in places, specks of scarlet.

This can't be good.

I wince slightly while I put my shirt back on. I reach onto to the counter and feel for my phone. The clock reads 8:46 AM. Late enough.

"Patrick Stump, calling for Doctor S. It's an emergency." Waiting, waiting... Doo dee doo...

"Patrick, this is Doctor S. What seems to be the problem?"

"The meds aren't doing anything. Yes, I take them when I'm supposed to, of course. No, neither of them, actually. It's red," I sigh, burying my head in my hand. "It's red. Just now, yeah, just now. How long do I got? Debatable?" I sigh. "The Happys aren't working either, no. He came to me this morning. I have another question, then; What's the most least painful way to take my own life, in this state of now?"