The Tears of a Prince

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TW: mention of self harm

https://open.spotify.com/track/0u2P5u6lvoDfwTYjAADbn4?si=0d6d2433795b4884

John used to like a song. He would listen to it again and again, on repeat when he was at home, depressed and feeling forgotten. The song title was Lovely. He liked it, the sad melody, the sweet vocals and the lyrics, they created a stinging pain in his chest but still, he couldn't stop listening to it because when he had his headphones on, laying in his small bed in his run down apartment that he could barely afford he could close his eyes and pretend this was not his life, he was simply in a movie, a tragic character that would definitely face a sad. 

Happiness was always out of reach for him, as he extended his hand, as he went after it like crazy the further it would seem. So John had given up on happiness, he had given up on escaping for such a long time. Headphones on, shutting out the world he lived in his own nightmares as he allowed the sweet release of the drugs to keep him from ending his life. Happiness, an emotion he had forgotten how it felt, now a constant disturbance, a reminder of something he could never have. 

He was no longer human, he was no longer himself and in this horrific chance the hope that had died long ago found a way to ignite like a half dead flame that resisted to be erased. Soran had been his hope, his way out, a snowy field, quiet and cold but so peaceful. He loved him, he had liked him for the very first moment he had laid eyes on him and even before he realized the vampire was his mate he wanted him. 

He should have stayed the way he was, he should have drowned that hope with his own two hands because now, the world he had come to love so dearly was shuttering. He wasn't in his run down apartment anymore, the opposite, he was laid in an enormous bed with silk sheets and a room that was bigger than the most apartments he had been in. The bathtub was made from gold and the mirror that showed him fully his wretched body looked so elegant just to reflect an image as unsightly as his. 

"Maybe if I looked a bit better?" he asked himself as he touched his face. His dark circles, his thin appearance, everything that he didn't like about himself suddenly seemed to intensify. "Maybe if I wasn't a werewolf? Maybe if I wasn't so poor, an addict, such an idiot, maybe if I wasn't me!" he exclaimed and with a strong punch the glass of the expensive mirror shuttered. 

The sound was deafening in the silence of the room and his eyes landed in the shards of the glass, surrounding his bare feet. He kept staring at them, sharp and shiny and without even realizing it he stepped on them, cutting his feet. 

It hurt but at the same time physical pain seemed to be much better than the emotional one. It numbed the pain of the heart and since he kept healing he could do it all over, again and again until the glass was painted red from his own blood. 

"Happiness, that's some bullshit…" he mumbled as he eagerly stepped on the broken glass, tears swelling in his dark eyes. "Who would be stupid enough to like someone like you. Who? Who?" he told himself. 

He missed his song, his simple escape from a horrid reality. Why was he such a tragic character, so badly made and so depressingly written? He wondered to himself as his legs gave out, as he landed on the floor with red eyes, red feet and red glass around him, showing him small bits of the person he hated the most in the world, himself. 

"Love? You weren't even sure if you'd be alive by now a while back and you dare to ask for love." he scolded himself. He was so cruel to himself. Always he found his flaws, always he felt like he was the one at fault, always he was the problem. 

His arms were like a canvas, drawings everywhere to hide the marks. The marks from the cuts, the marks from the needles that for endless days didn't seem to fade. Even though with all these, he still remembered, he still hurt and now everything just looked worse. He closed his eyes, whaling as if someone had stabbed him, he closed his eyes, feeling the tears run down his face, he closed his eyes wishing he could disappear, escape this endless circle of disappointment. 

Everyone got a mate, a destined love made just for them. For a minute he had thought that maybe, maybe that could be the only thing after he became a beast and once again he was wrong. Once again he had been tricked by his own mind, letting himself go just to crash to the earth after a shabby  flight to the ground.

"You knew he didn't like you so why? Why did you believe in him…" 

He couldn't hate Soran, he couldn't even blame him because how can you blame someone because they do not love you back? He could simply sit there, in the disaster he had caused and regret everything. He didn't even want to be liked, just tolerated and he was aware how pitiful that made him sound but he was used to getting the remains of whatever he could, he was used of not being greedy but how…how could he make such a mistake?

"Now it's over." he mumbled, covering his face with his hands. "Now it's over because of you!" he told himself. "You will always be alone"

Alone, all alone, a spectator in his own life, someone insignificant enough for his death to not even be mentioned. 

Yes, John viewed himself like that, or more accurately he couldn't see himself. There was always a blur, a dark cloud hiding his own reflection and all he could do is just imagine. Ugly exterior to much the decaying of the inside. 

"You need to stop hoping." he ordered himself.. "Happiness is not for you."