Author’s Note: Hi, Dedicated Runaway (former pen name) here. This standalone came is a product of having a bit of spare time from my first few days of school. Sorry it’s so crappy.

Disclaimer: I don’t know or own anyone in this story. Everything you are about to read is F I C T I O N.

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Mike slept the days away. In his slumber there were no dreams; he did not recall any haunting from his subconscious. The darkness of his mind comforted him because of its blankness. There was nothing but a deep, never-ending black in front of him. No surprises or mind-fuck games hiding anywhere.

Well, until he woke up.

He felt sick. Mike thought he would vomit on his plush carpet whenever he even thought about Chester… and Brad… and Rob… and Dave. No dies of a broken heart, no one dies over a lost love. Or, in Mike’s case, lost loves.

Chester was the first. It lasted for thirteen weeks. Thirteen weeks of fighting, which lead to fucking, then lead to more fighting. Complex was the only word he could think of to describe their relationship. Whenever Mike thought he was done, he came running back. One day, he grew tired of sprinting back just to get his feelings played with. It all ended when Chester went to the ocean.

Mike hated to wake up. That was when his mind swam and his recollections of the others practically drowned him. He walked to the kitchen. Though he could hear the low rumbling of his belly, the sight of food made him sick. Even thinking about food was bad for him. Who could eat? Who could eat when they left him, when he made them leave?

Number two was Brad, his best friend. What should have been perfect turned out to be hell. It lasted for four weeks.

“It’s your fault,” Brad said. They were in the middle of a heated argument.

“How is it my fault?” Mike asked, though he already knew.

“You hurt him.”

“He hurt me worse.”

Then Brad went to the ocean. He needed to be with Chester.

Mr. Sun didn’t show his god damned bright face today. Clouds seemed like they would hang permanently in the sky. There were so many grays through Mike’s window. They doused the city in its shade. All the decadence and glitter of Los Angeles faded in the shadows. He stared and thought about the ocean. He could smell the salt now, feel the breeze cooling off his warm skin, and see the tanned bodies in bright-colored swimsuits walk by him. He missed the beach. Maybe he’ll go to the water…

Rob came after Brad. And, for a while, Mike loved Rob. Just like he’d loved the two men before him. For thirty-one days, they were blissful amidst the disappearances of Chester and Brad. But Rob started to get boring. Rob started to get nosy. Mike didn’t like it, so he sent number three to the ocean.

There was no one out today and he smiled to himself. Mike wanted this: the quiet, the calm. No people meant no distractions. He wore sunglasses and realized the absurdity of it once he walked along the beach, cool sand gathering under his soles and between his toes. The clouds were slightly darker as he neared the white weatherworn lifeguard house.

Next came Dave. Their affair only lasted four days. Perhaps it would have been longer if Dave didn’t know Mike’s secret. Because of the knowledge he held, Dave, too went to the ocean.

He finally arrived at the lifeguard house. He climbed the stairs, stood on the deck, and looked at the view. The waves crashed into each other, collided in harmony. Mike watched the dance of the waves and went back down. He walked to the edge of the tide, the water soaking the tips his feet and army green flip-flops.

Right now, Mike has Joe. Joe has been with him ever since Dave left. They’ve been together for thirteen days.

“Mike?” someone behind him asked.

He turned around, startled. It was Joe.

“What are you doing here?” Mike asked.

“The same reason you’re here,” Joe answered. “We can drown together.”

“How did—” Mike said but was cut off by Joe saying, “I know you killed them. I didn’t realize it until a few days ago. You’re sick, Mike. You’re sick and you killed the men that meant everything to me. Now I have nothing, no one. I figured I could watch you die before I do.”

The waves became increasingly violent. Mike took one look at Joe and said, “I loved them, but they weren’t capable of properly loving me back.”

Joe laughed. “You don’t know how much they really cared,” he whispered. "So messed up..."

Mike walked forward, cold water soaking his clothing and chilling him right to the bone. He looked back at Joe, who was standing still, wind blowing his beige jacket to and fro. Then he swam far, until he couldn’t even see Joe anymore, and he never saw another thing again.

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Yes, I know it was short and terrible. Constructive criticism would be appreciated.