I stroked his hair slowly, watching his frozen face. It never flickered in the expression. I sighed and touched his cold cheek. He never flinched. No response whatsoever. I ground my teeth in slight irritation but kept my temper.

“Speak to me at least.” I told him. He never moved. I growled and jabbed him in the side hard, making him limply flop over. “Sonofa…”

I shook him roughly, my temper close to snapping. I wanted a response from him, needed it. I had to know the truth. He didn’t give me what I wanted. I snarled and slammed my fist down on his side. He only moved as the bed absorbed the blow to him. I was losing it. He refused to cooperate. I grabbed his arm and twisted it backwards viciously, so tempted to break it. He never made a sound.

“Talk to me you fucking jackass!” I screamed at him, shaking him. His head flopped back and forth but he made no sound. I’d teach him to ignore me. I ripped off his jeans and thrusted hard into his ass, making his lower half buck forward. Still no sound. I pounded into him faster, my rage leading me on, and I tore at his stomach with my nails. He was cold.

I fucked his ass until he bled and I couldn’t move anymore. I collapsed on his cold body, panting hard, and I screamed in irritation. I get no response at all. “Fuck!”

I got up and sat down on the floor away from him. I screamed inside my head as I watched him lay there limply. He never moved, never spoke. I didn’t understand why. I put my head on my knees and curled up in a ball. I didn’t care anymore. You know what? If he doesn’t want to give me a response, fuck him. I thought to myself. I knew it in my core it wasn’t true, of course. But fuck, I was pissed.

I looked up at his face; it was pale and placid. He almost looked as if he could be sleeping. But I knew better. I knew he wasn’t asleep. I knew why he didn’t respond. I knew why he was cold. But I wasn’t going to admit that. Fuck, it’s easier to be pissed at him than myself. But how could I stay pissed at Zack’s beautiful face? It was impossible.

I sighed and stood up, walked over to the bed, and leaned down to stroke his black hair. He didn’t move. Of course he didn’t. Who was I kidding? Hell, the screaming in my head wasn’t at him. It was at me. Because I knew what happened. I knew what I did. Did I regret it? I wasn’t sure yet.

“Zacky…” I whispered his name. I bit my lip as I saw the dark red coming from his mouth, slowly dripping down his face. “I’m sorry…”

Was I sorry? Did I just lie to the one I loved then betrayed? Heh, how lovely this situation has become. I wiped the blood off his face, so it was once again, flawless. He opened his beautiful green eyes and smiled at me, blood-tears streaming down his pale face as he reached out with his cold fingers, told me he loved me, he forgave me…

I touched his face. Cold… I didn’t like it. I whispered into his ear, my lips brushing his cold flesh. “I miss you, Zacky…”

As if that would bring him back to me. He would never forgive me for what I did to him. I wanted to cry. But I was heartless, cold. I couldn’t cry. I leaned down to kiss his frozen lips one last time. He kissed me back, his skin warm again. I wrapped my arms around him and deepened the kiss. I felt him shift to move closer to me and twine his fingers in my hair how I liked it. I tasted his mouth in every way possible, memorizing it as if it was the last…

It was all lies. I lied to him, myself, even Brian. But how could I believe this was my fault? How could I make myself believe it? It’s your own damn fault he’s not with you anymore, motherfucker. Step up and take it. But I couldn’t. The pain was too much.

My hands shook as I picked up the knife next to my bed. I slid it across my wrist, moaning as the blade slit through my skin easily. I watched my blood run down my arm. His face contorted in anger and he ripped the knife from my hands. He screamed at me for hurting myself. I tried to tell him it gave me more pleasure than pain…

I shook my head. It was fantasy. Nothing was real anymore. This pain, (I dug my knife into my arm until I screamed) wasn’t real. Zack, lying still on the bed, (cold as ice and unmoving) wasn’t real.

The room spun. I was losing too much blood, I guess. I examined my knife. It would be so easy… I touched the edge of it to my throat, inhaling deeply. It felt good there even though it shouldn’t… the voices in my head screamed at me as I pressed the sharp knife into my skin, feeling the pain…

I paused and looked over at my frozen lover. I killed him. I beat him to death. It was my fault, all my fault, it always was… I screamed at myself, hating myself for everything I was, everything I lived for, everything I had done… I reclaimed my knife in my rage and aimed it at my heart. I heard it beating rapidly in my ears, fear and rage building as I opened my mouth to scream again…

“Matt!” Brian broke through the door and ripped the knife from my hands. I screamed at him and fought him to get it back. He slammed me into a wall, pinning me there. I screamed at him and started crying. I punched him helplessly in the chest, half begging to let me go and let me kill myself for what I did to Zack…

He held me there. He never let go. I hated him for it. I shook as he kept me pinned against the wall and panted hard from the wasted effort.

“Matt, Matt, stop… I’m not going to let you kill yourself. I can’t lose two of my best friends in the same week.” He said. I snarled and pushed him off of me, taking advantage of his being off guard. I picked up the knife quickly and drove it viciously into my own heart. I screamed in pain and fell to the ground, my chest bleeding profusely and my vision blurring out…I heard Brian’s voice from far away… I knew he wouldn’t understand…

The last words I said was Zack’s name.

Epilogue

(Brian’s POV)

I walked up to the two headstones, the angels on both locked in a stone kiss. I touched the smooth stone on Matt’s and then on Zack’s. It was niether’s fault they were both gone. Matt wasn’t stable and had a short temper. Zack was… well, Zack. I don’t blame Matt for killing himself. He loved Zack more than anything.

I sighed and stood up, dropping the black roses between the two graves.

I would always miss the two, even if they were both fucked up.

But nobody else understood them. They didn’t understand how two men could love each other so much that they killed each other. They never would understand.

Matt and Zack were the perfect couple. Zack was understanding and patient. Matt was strong and intelligent, despite his insanity.

I looked back at the graves… I froze. The roses were gone. In their place, were two gold objects, intertwined intricately. I walked over cautiously. A perfect gold sculpture of an Angel and a Reaper. They were wound into each other, only really joined at their mouths. The Reaper had red ruby eyes and the Angel had jeweled wings.

I left it there, knowing now they knew I understood.

“Goodbye, Matt. Zack.” I said.

I still can’t get Matt’s scream out of my head.

Oh, what rage can do.