//Angst, sorta. Uhm, if you don't like suicide or stuff like that don't read I guess, ÙwÚ I had to look over this for about...30 minutes to decide if it was okay.

Also BRIGHT_RED_CROCS I warned you.

sometimes @'s me with the "But he's already a ghost" bullcrap. I know, but I honestly think that I'd be cool to think he can die again uwu
.....okay that's not the best thing to think of but-//

Present day:
Jeff layed on his cold, now empty bed. In his arms, he held Ben's green sweater he used to wear, along with the note he had left. He still remembered how happy he looked whenever he wore that sweater. He wore a smile that lit up Jeff's whole room- wait, no, world, wait, no, his universe.

He honestly didn't see a point of getting out of bed anymore. He didn't see the point in even waking up, if he slept, that is. Whenever he closed his eyes(go with it, okay-), all he saw was Ben's smile, he heard his voice laughing, calling out his name, and he occasionally remembered how Ben would say; "I love you." while looking up at him. He winced as if the memory hurt him. It did. It stung like a bitch, but he honestly was starting to not care.
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Jeff still remembered how he forcefully opened the bathroom door, shaking, worried, anxious, a million more emotions. He remembers Ben's expression as he layed on the cold bathroom floor, his wrists sliced with the blade next to the sink. All Jeff could do was sob and shake Ben, hoping he was pulling some twisted prank on him.

"B-ben, please, wake up. You have to wake up, please tell me this is a joke.."

He didn't.

Jeff held Ben's cold body close to him, sobbing quietly into his shoulder. He blamed himself for everything that had happened that day. What if he had gotten there earlier? He would have talked Ben out of it. Ben would still be with him. He'd be hugging Jeff, maybe talking about how they'd get married once they got older. Jeff wouldn't have to see the love of his life, now lifeless, on the floor with blood coming from his wrists.

It took Jeff around 5 minutes to notice the note near the sink. He forced himself to get up, leaving Ben's corpse onto the floor, to get it. He gripped the note tightly in his hands. He sat back down next to Ben's corpse, and began to read.

"Dear, Jeff.
Well, I honestly hope you're the one reading this. I'm...I'm sorry I didnt tell you about any of this. I'm sorry for everything, honestly. All I did was push you away whenever you tried to help me in My worst moments. When I felt sad, you were there. Angry? You were there. I'll probably be long gone before you find me; you'll try to barge into the bathroom, see my body, and maybe even breakdown.
this is getting pretty long. Please don't try to join me here, you have something to live for, unlike I did. And don't cover yourself with the same scars I did. You're too beautiful for that. I love you."-Ben.

"No, no, no, no!!!" Jeff yelled at the bloody paper with rage. He was in full on denial. Was this some sick, twisted dream-no, nightmare, he was having? He was gonna wake up soon, see Ben next to him, and be happy once again.
........................................................................

Jeff gripped the green sweater, feeling his eyes start to water again. He'd been crying non-stop, isolating himself from all the rest of the pastas. They didn't blame him, to be honest, but that didn't stop them from being concerned and worried for him.

"They don't get it. They don't miss him like I do. They didn't have to look at his corpse that day. I'm the one who had to look at the corpse of My own boyfriend. They didn't."
He thought outloud. Soon enough, he looked over at his knife at the other end of the bed. It was just sitting there, completely untouched.

You'd think Jeff would wanna go on a million killing sprees after the tragedy, but no. Not for now, atleast. He grabbed the knife, and held it up to his throat, tears falling once again, from his eyes.

He had two options; slit his throat quickly, bleed out, and possibly join Ben, or, he could respect Ben's wishes, and keep living to see another day.

Knock on the door.

No response.

Two knocks. Still no response.

"Jeff? Are you in there-?"

The sound of the door opening. Blood splattering everywhere, a loud thud, the sound of a knife falling onto he floor, and a scream.
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Wow okay, this got depressing. I'm not sure wether I'm proud of this chapter, because I stopped being a pussy and wrote some angst, or if I should cry and emmediatly write a happier chapter. Actually I'm gonna go read some fucked up Lam's fanfic.//