Rebirth

Here's a thought to think about,
some knowledge for your head.
What would happen if you woke up
to find that you were dead?

Is there an afterlife? you ask.
Or maybe just dark space?
Well, I'll tell you what happened to me,
I came back as Guy Berryman's bass.

That's right, that sexy man
held me in his hands.
I opened my eyes to see
a crowd of 15,000 Coldplay fans.

They were dancing and singing
and having lots of fun.
But soon it was all over,
the concert was finally done.

So, I rode in a truck of sorts
with various other things,
like Jon's guitar and the microphone
into which dear Christopher sings.

Welcome to our group! they said.
We hope that you are well.
Then suddenly there was a giant crash
and people started to yell.

There was an accident, it seems
a truck smashed into us.
But everything went black right then,
I left without a fuss.

Did you die again? you ask.
Is that what happened there?
Yes, and what went down after
was quite extraordinarily rare.


When I came back a second time
it was more than I could stand. Oh!
Because, you see, this second time
I became Chris's piano.

What were the chances?
Two Coldplay lives in one day.
Chris ran towards me from the side of the stage
and soon began to play.

While that crazy man's dance moves
are sometimes cause of laughter,
we all know what happens to that piano
and I was dead again soon after.

Then I was my old self,
before I ever died.
It was all a dream, it seems,
so when I woke up, I sighed.

It was a wonderful dream, of course,
a lovely way to spend
my hours asleep, but all good things
must eventually come to an end.

Death and All His Friends (Finished)

Things aren't going so well on Earth, so Chris and Jonny decide to leave. But their plan doesn't work exactly like they thought it would.

It's a slash fic!

---

It was May. The time of year when things warm up and blossom in preparation for summer. Brown turns to green, and gray turns to blue. Rain fills the world, but only for a short while. Then the sun comes out, and the children play in the streets, their parents watching joyously from afar.

It started in April. Five weeks of nonstop, no holds barred guerrilla warfare. Seemingly every country on the planet took part. Bombs dropped every few hours, and a dusty cloud of smoke clogged the air. Bodies, both dead and alive, were strewn across the ground. No one was safe, and after a few short days it became every man for himself. Even the children weren't protected from the violent attacks on mankind. The cause of the war was unknown, but by this point it was insignificant anyway.

Just down the road from a small bridge in London was a collapsed apartment building. The building had been home to many occupants, namely one Chris Martin. When the building was crashed into by a small aircraft, it fell in an instant. One minute the building was fine, the people inside sitting in the misled comfort of their dwellings, and literally two seconds later it was gone. A simple blink would have caused any onlooker to miss it. Of course, in a world like this, no one dared to blink.

Chris saw the whole thing. He had just returned from a trip down the road to see his friend, who he was afraid had been killed, and as he looked up at the building, preparing to cross the street, it collapsed. He threw the box he was holding (given to him by the aforementioned friend) and ran to help anyone who had survived. He could hear the cries of a few younger children, probably no older than five years, but they remained faceless throughout his search. A few other kind pedestrians lent their hands as well, but not even a group of the strongest men in the world could help the victims. It was a lost cause.

With nowhere else to go, Chris returned to his friend's house. On any other occasion, he'd have thanked his stars to be alive, to not have been in that building at the time of the crash. He wasn't thankful, though. Really, surviving anything in this world did no more good than dying. You might make it past one explosion, past one missed bullet, but there's no saying that another one wont find its way to you five seconds later. He forgot the box on the street, though by the time he remembered it had probably been snatched up already. People will take anything they can get their hands on when they have almost nothing left, even if they're not sure what something is. If they see it just laying there, and no one else has taken it, it's theirs.

It was just a box of mementos anyway. A few souvenirs remnant from the early days of his band. They were nice to have, but completely useless and an awful encumbrance in this age. He still had his band members anyway, and that was enough. As long as they made it through everything together, or perhaps stuck together in death, then Chris was satisfied. As long as they were together.

But two of his band mates he hadn't spoken to in weeks. Guy Berryman, the devilishly handsome bassist, was somewhere in the deserts of Africa, hiding from the Egyptian soldiers and turning tricks in the local village for food. Without his looks, he'd have starved or probably been killed in a matter of days. As a drummer, Will Champion had an acute sense of rhythm, and was able to lead a vast group of troops around the English countryside in hopes of defending his homeland. They'd been successful on a number of occasions, so Chris wasn't too worried about him. Regardless, they'd still not spoken to each other since just after the war started.

He and Jonny stayed together, though. They had to. Jonny Buckland, the sweet and generous guitar player, was the only person Chris ever really loved. He could deal without contact between Guy and Will and himself, but if he went a day without talking to Jonny he'd panic. It's not that he didn't think Jonny could survive on his own, just that he wanted to make sure that Jonny was alive at all times. If anything did happen to him, then Chris would definitely not take any precautions to stay alive. Hell, he'd probably walk out into open fire without thinking twice.

So he and Jonny stayed together, just down the road from each other. Every day Chris walked from his apartment to Jonny's, until it collapsed, of course. Then they shared Jonny's apartment. They rarely went outside, even though there was no guarantee that staying inside would be safer. They just didn't feel the need to make contact with the outside world.

“Jonny, do you remember that plan we came up with, last week I think?” Chris asked as he and Jonny sat on the floor of the apartment one day, eating what was probably their dinner.

“You mean... if things don't work out?” Jonny vaguely asked as he swallowed a bit of his food. Chris swirled his fork around in the bowl of rice he had. Rice was mostly all they could eat. All they could find to eat.

“What if we just did it now?” Chris suggested. Jonny placed his own bowl down on the floor and moved over to where Chris was sitting. He looked deeply into Chris's eyes and nodded.

“We... we could. What about Guy and Will?”

“I've been thinking it over, and... there's no guarantee we'll see them again, even after all of this ends. If it ends,” he added. “I just think that there's really no point in doing all of this anymore.”

Jonny sat silently for a few moments, thinking. Eventually he nodded again and said, “Tomorrow, then?”

“Tomorrow's good.” Chris shoved aside his bowl, too sick to eat now. Everything was so hard to grasp. Never in his thirty-two years of existence did he think that something like this would happen. That some situation would put him in such distress that he would even consider doing what he and Jonny were about to do.

The next day they took the five minute walk to the small bridge. The water below it was murky and had been tinted red with blood. Countless numbers of bodies had fallen into the river, but almost all of them had been carried away, leaving behind only a hint of color. Chris and Jonny both stood next to the railing, looking down. As far as either of them knew, the only people who had taken the journey down were those who had not done so on purpose. Until now.

“I can't believe we're doing this,” Jonny said as he grabbed Chris's hand.

“What else are we gonna do, Jonny? There's nothing left here worth staying for, and... I have faith. We'll be together forever now, and nothing can potentially destroy that.” Chris lifted his arm and kissed Jonny's hand. “We'll be safe, love.”

“Let's do it.” Chris climbed the step of the railing, and when he balanced himself he held his hand out to help Jonny up. Once Jonny stood beside him, Chris closed his eyes. Then he opened them back and kissed Jonny as passionately as he could.

“Just in case,” he whispered as he linked arms with Jonny. “Here goes nothing. On three?”

“One...”

“... two...”

Just as a giant van came bustling down the road, they both shouted, “Three!” and leapt forward.

-

The pearly gates of Heaven where nothing like Chris had imagined. Nothing bad, though; they were actually pearlier than he had ever dreamed. He couldn't believe he was actually there, that all those years of preaching he heard had not been incorrect after all. He stood, mouth agape, marveling at the sight before him. For a second he didn't realise that Jonny wasn't with him. He didn't think much of it, though, and just passed it off as nothing.

“Excuse me, sir,” a voice said. A boisterous man with long brown hair and an eye patch stood to the left of Chris, his hands clasped together in a friendly sort of way. He was wearing billowing black pants and a white shirt that seemed to ruffle a bit. He was also smiling, and his gap-toothed grin frightened Chris a little. “Welcome.”

“Thanks,” Chris said. He tried to hold back his thoughts, but it proved to be an impossible task in the afterlife. “Are you a... pirate?”

The man simply laughed. “No, but I get that a lot. Name's Pete.”

“Oh. I'm Chris.”

“Yeah, I know,” Pete said. “Listen, from the minute we've spent together chatting, and from the years I've watched you from up here, you seem like a nice guy.”

“Well, thank you.”

“But you don't belong here.” Pete placed a giant hand on Chris's shoulder and led him to a small podium. A paper was laying on top of the surface, and Chris immediately understood what he meant.“See this? This is my list.”

“I'm not on it,” Chris somberly said. “It's because I was with Jonny, wasn't it?”

“No, no,” Pete reassured him. “Love is love, we don't care about that.” Chris breathed a sigh of relief. “It's because you killed yourself. That actually is frowned upon.”

At that very moment, everything came crashing down on Chris. His mind was completely overwhelmed by the prior events of his life and now death. He and Jonny jumped so they could escape the horrors of the previous world and be together in the next. Now, because of that, he wasn't allowed in. And suddenly, Jonny's absence became so much more important.

“Where's Jonny?” he asked.

“I'm sorry, I can't answer any more of your questions,” Pete apologized. “It's time for you to leave.”

“Leave and go where?”

“I think you know the answer to that. Sorry, Chris.”

Everything turned white, and the picture of Pete and his pearly gates faded. There was just nothing. It was like this for what Chris felt was a few minutes. During that time, he thought about what had happened. He killed himself. He was in the afterlife now. He wasn't allowed into Heaven. Most importantly, he had no clue where Jonny was.

Maybe Jonny had gotten there first? And he would have been denied, too. So... wherever this next place was gonna be, which Chris was pretty sure he knew where, Jonny would probably be there when he arrived, smiling and being as gorgeous as he always was. Their afterlife wouldn't be as ideal as they planned, but they'd still be together.

The white flickered into black. There was still nothing. Nothing visible, anyway.

“Chris, Chris! My main man,” a booming voice said.

“Main man?” Chris asked.

“Welcome,” the voice announced, and suddenly everything was lit up. A man with fiery red hair and piercing yellow eyes, sitting recumbently on a sort of throne, spoke, “To my domain.”

Chris looked around. Hell was nothing like he thought it would be. It actually didn't seem so bad. There weren't any people being tortured, there weren't any giant parties of flames dancing around and heating up the place. In fact, there wasn't much of anything. Besides Chris and Satan, no one else was around. They were on some sort of platform, Satan sitting in his throne, and everything else was just darkness.

“This is it?” Chris asked, still looking around.

“I'm a very simple man, yes,” Satan chuckled. Chris thought it was odd for a man like that to do such a thing. “Now, onto more pressing matters. You're here.”

“Yes, I am.” Satan flashed him a devious smile.

“I know what you want to ask, Chris, and I have your answer.”

“Where is he?”

“Not here,” he laughed. “Obviously.”

“Where is he?” Chris repeated, trying not to lose his patience.

“A place I think you're very familiar with.”

“Where?”

“Why should I tell you?” Satan asked, crinkling his nose. “What's in it for me?”

“Right... I don't have anything. You can't take my soul, right, because I'm already here?”

“A very true point you've made, Chris.” He sat up a bit in his throne, which Chris could now see was black with red satin draped over the seat. “I can't take your soul. But I can do something else.”

Chris swallowed. Naturally, he was quite intimidated. “What's that?” Satan once again flashed his devious smile.

“I can challenge you to the most testing of games. If you win, I'll tell you where he is and maybe even let you see him. If I win,” he said, standing up and walking over to Chris, “well, you'll see.” He gave a quick wink.

“Fine.”

“Excellent,” Satan grinned.

-

“That's not fair!” Satan yelled. “You cheated!”

“I did not!” Chris yelled back.

“It's all that yoga you do. You had an unfair advantage.”

“How is that unfair? You're Satan, surely you could have made it so I'd lose!”

“I... I could have,” Satan replied. “But that would also be cheating.”

“I don't see why you'd choose to play Twister, anyway,” Chris said. “You could have at least challenged me to Monopoly. I'm horrible at that game.”

“Maybe I should have challenged you to shutting the hell up,” Satan retorted. “You'd have lost that one for sure.”

“I probably would have!” Chris agreed. “Anyway, will you please tell me where Jonny is?”

Satan sighed. “I still think you cheated... but fine.”

“Thank you.”

“Earth.”

“Earth?” Chris dumbly repeated.

“Earth. University College Hospital in London, to be precise.” Remarking Chris's vacant stare, he added, “He's still alive.”

“He...” Chris couldn't speak. His mouth had gone completely dry.

“He survived the fall. A group of people passing by saw you two, realized he was still alive, and took him to the hospital. I think he's still in a coma, actually.”

“No... no...” Chris repeated. “But we're supposed to... to be together.”

“You wanted to be together,” Satan corrected. “If you were supposed to be together, you'd be together.”

“So, what, then? I just stay here, and Jonny stays there, and we'll never see each other again?” Chris cried.

What is this? Satan thought. This kid comes in, crying about his lost love, and you're gonna feel sorry for him? Who do you think you are, Jesus?

“It looks that way,” he said. Dammit... if he doesn't stop crying I'm gonna have to punch him... Ah, who am I kidding? Then I'll feel worse.

“Is this my punishment?”

“I suppose so.” Don't do it. Don't feel bad for him. If you do it, I'll hit you.

Chris sniffed, wiping away the tears from his eyes. “But what about when Jonny dies?”

“What do you mean?”

“When he dies, wont he end up here, too? So then I'll get to see him.”

Without thinking, Satan said, “You could see him now.” Shit! Aggravated with himself, Satan closed his eyes and felt his hand smack hard into his face.

“I could?”

Satan took a few moments to accurately prepare his response. He wasn't going to make any more slip-ups. “It is possible for you to return to Earth for a short period of time to visit him. You wont be alive, mind, and no one will be able to see you, but it is possible.”

“You wouldn't want to let me go, would you?” Chris asked, the hope building up inside of him. To see Jonny again would be so wonderful, even if they couldn't interact.

“Rematch,” Satan said. “We play one more game, and you can go if you win.”

“Do I get to pick what we play?”

“Of course not!”

“Well... OK,” Chris said, defeated. “But just remember, you'll probably lose if we play Twister again.”

-

Forty minutes later, after a rousing game of Battleship, Chris was being sent back to Earth. His second victory had not come as much of a surprise to Satan, though he was still reluctant to send Chris back. In the end, though, his tiny portion of kindness got the better of him.

When Chris landed, he was on top of the bridge where he and Jonny had jumped. It was weird now to look at the water and think that some of that blood was his. He wondered just how long it had been since he died, and if the people who had taken Jonny to the hospital had taken his body as well. Probably not.

He only had a vague idea of where the hospital was. He'd never been there before, but he recalled passing it every day that he drove to his parents' house. His parents... they'd be so disappointed if they knew he ended up going to Hell. As he began to walk down the bridge, he felt a twinge of guilt. Of course, there was no way that they would find out. Even if they were dead, there was probably very little chance of them finding out Chris's whereabouts.

It took him nearly two hours to walk to the hospital. Along the way he watched the world around him, witnessed several murders and was oddly glad that he killed himself. The world was not meant to be in such a state. Or maybe it was. Maybe this was all some sort of divine intervention. He kinda hoped it wasn't.

The doors of the hospital were open, but Chris soon found that it didn't matter. As he was not alive, he was not tangible, and could therefore drift through any obstacle that got in his way. Like doors.

Jonny's room was on the second floor, tucked away behind the wave of injured people who surfed on the sea of stretchers lining the hallways. The room was nearly empty, save for Jonny's bed and the few machines he was hooked up to. Chris had no idea what any of the numbers or symbols on the machines meant, but he assumed that Jonny was at least alive. Several of his limbs were poorly wrapped in makeshift casts, and his face was torn with lacerations. Chris cautiously moved towards his body. Despite all the cuts and bruises, to him Jonny still looked beautiful. He reached out to touch the face of his love, only to be sadly reminded of the fact that he wasn't real.

“I'm sorry, Jonny,” he whispered. “None of this was meant to happen. We were supposed to die together. If I knew you were gonna survive... I just wanted everything to be OK.”

“It is OK, Chris,” Jonny's voice said. But Jonny was still unconscious, and his mouth hadn't moved at all. Chris shifted slightly closer to Jonny.

“Jonny?”

“Don't blame yourself, it's not your fault.”

“It was my idea,” Chris muttered.

“And I went along with it. Because I wanted to be with you. Neither of us could control what happened.”

“Does it hurt?”

“I don't know, I can't feel anything.”

“Where are you?”

“Turn around.” Chris turned, and behind him was Jonny, standing upright and looking as he had before they parted. Chris slowly walked over to him.

“Are you real?” he asked.

“As real as you are.” Chris took a second to think this over, before remembering that he wasn't real. Which meant Jonny wasn't either. He took a chance and threw himself at Jonny, wrapping his arms around him and holding him tight.

“Oh, Jonny!” he said as Jonny returned his embrace. “Wait... what does this mean?”

“I'm not sure, but... I don't think I'll last much longer,” Jonny replied. No sooner than the words left his mouth did an alarming beeping noise protrude from the machines on the other side of the room. A few nurses dressed in their scrubs ran in and tried to preform a number of resuscitations, but to no avail. Chris and Jonny watched on as the nurses called time of death.

“I guess you were right,” Chris said.

Suddenly, everything went black. Chris spun around and felt the air surrounding him, but there was nothing there. Panic set in once again. He got to see Jonny, which was what he wanted, and he was glad that he did. He would have been upset to never see Jonny again after that, but he would have been much more OK with that if he had gotten the chance to say goodbye. After all, that's what he went back to Earth to do. Now he was just in this oblivion, alone and confused. He had been jerked away from the living world, and even though Jonny had died, they were still not together. Chris wasn't even sure where he was. Everything was pitch black.

Was he back in Hell? It would have made some sense, but he thought that by now Satan would have revealed himself once more. Or maybe he wouldn't get the chance to meet up with Satan again. Perhaps this was his Hell. Emptiness and confusion. He wondered where Jonny had gone to; if Jonny was also in total darkness.

Then, out of pure hope, he gathered his air and shouted a tumultuous, “Jonny!” But there was no answer. Chris sank down into himself as he lost his hope. He wanted to let the tears drop from his eyes, but they wouldn't come. Complete emptiness.

A gust of wind came from nowhere and ruffled Chris's curls. Chris stood still. Another gust rushed past him. He stood still. A third gust came and knocked him back until he was just flying. Flying through the darkness.

He landed a short while later, on the darkness, it seemed. There was something under his feet, but he couldn't see it. He felt it, though, and it felt solid and firm, almost like a road or sidewalk. Or floor. He moved his foot around. The sole of his shoe slid a bit, and he concluded that it must have been some sort of floor. But he still couldn't see it.

Another wind, or perhaps the same wind that pushed him, brought an object to his feet. It was a paper, folded horizontally and stamped with a Chris~. He bent down to reach the paper, but he couldn't grab it. He tried again. The paper just slipped through his hand.

His panic and confusion, along with his slightly tired state, caused him to easily lose his patience. “What is this, some kind of sick joke?” he screeched into the darkness. He didn't honestly expect an answer, and he didn't get one, either. His last attempt at grabbing the paper was a fail, and as soon as his hand passed through, the sheet set itself on fire. And just like that, it was gone.

The fire left a mark, though, on the floor. It was yellow and scuffed a bit. Chris realised this must have been the floor. Only a small portion of it was visible. He moved his foot into the spot, and as he did so the color spread. It spread as far as it could, until everything was yellow. Chris temporarily forgot his panic and chuckled at the coincidence.

He took a few steps and wondered if there was anything else to be discovered. The yellow was no more calming than the darkness had been. If only he had any small clue as to where his was, he might have been a bit happier.

A boisterous laugh emerged from the distance. The hope that Chris had lost slowly crept its way back into his body.

“Hello?” Chris called out.

“Hey, man,” a voice said. It sounded familiar, but Chris couldn't exactly put his finger on it.

“Who are you?”

“Come on, you don't recognize your good old friend?” the voice laughed.

“No, I don't.”

“Don't be so serious man, this is the afterlife, remember? Take a chill pill.”

“Do you know where Jonny is?”

“Jonny?” More laughing. “Of course. But do you know where Jonny is?” Chris had the sudden vision of a drunk man stumbling around somewhere as he conversed with Chris. Maybe it was his uncle.

“No, if I knew where Jonny was I wouldn't be asking you.”

“Of course you wouldn't,” the voice said. “Very reasonable argument. You'd like to see him again?”

“Yes, please,” Chris said.

“I think I can arrange that,” the voice replied. “Listen, I've been watching you some more, and you really are a nice guy. It's a shame.”

“What's a shame?” Chris asked. Then, for some reason, he knew exactly who he was talking to. “Pete?”

“Hey, how ya doin'?” Pete shouted in Chris's ear as he magically appeared by his side, causing Chris to jump a bit. “Pete's the name, yeah.”

“Can you explain to me what's going on?”

“Yes.”

“... Are you going to explain to me what's going on?”

“Not yet. Come on, we've got places to go.” Pete grabbed Chris's arm with his giant hand and pulled him away from his spot. In a fraction of a second, they'd traveled to somewhere completely different. This time there was no emptiness at all. They were in a sort of room still, but it was filled with stacks of oddly shaped boxes. Upon closer inspection, Chris realised these were guitar cases.

“Jonny,” he said without thinking.

“Hmm?” a voice said from behind a nearby stack. “Wait, someone else is here?”

“Jonny, I'm here!” Chris shouted. Jonny peeked out from behind the stack. As soon as he saw Chris his jaw dropped.

“Oh... Chris...” Jonny ran to Chris and held him tight. “I thought I'd never see you again.”

“I know, me too,” Chris said. “But we're here now.”

“Yeah, wherever 'here' is.”

“Oh, about that!” Pete chimed in. “You guys need to do something for me.”

“What's that?” Chris asked.

“Look at each other.” Chris and Jonny each set their eyes on the other and smiled. “Now think of one place. Just one place.”

The guitar-filled room dissolved and gave way to a small town road with a single building standing proudly. Pete had disappeared, too. Chris and Jonny walked up to the building, which they both had immediately recognized.

“This is our old dorm,” Chris said.

“Where we first lived together,” Jonny added.

“Is this where you thought of, too?” Chris asked, turning to Jonny. Jonny nodded.

“Enjoy, you two,” Pete's voice rang from the sky.

“What is this?” Chris asked.

“Your afterlife.”

“Our afterlife?”

“Chris, there is no such thing as Heaven and Hell. Sorry to break it to you, but it's true. There is, however, an afterlife. Until it's perfect, there may be some slight drawbacks and you might end up being completely miserable, but in the end you stay where your heart desires. And your hearts desired each other. That's what you got. Enjoy.”

“Thank you!” Chris shouted, but by then he was certain that Pete was gone. He turned to Jonny and smiled. “It is perfect.”

“Come on,” Jonny said, grabbing Chris's arm and leading him towards the entrance of the building. “Let's go spend the rest of our afterlives together.”

The Drums (Finished)

WILL loves to play the drums, especially after bad things happen.

It's not a slash fic!

---

It's quiet. I can feel the pedal under my foot, just asking to be pressed. I slowly push my foot down, and the felt beater pounds the drum. The sound fills the small room, and calms my nerves.

I reach down and pick up the drumsticks. The wood feels smooth and comfortable in my clammy hands. I carefully hit the cymbal. Its echo makes its way through my ears. Snare. Snare.

The anxiety softens with every beat, every hit of the drums. Everything feels right in this seat. No troubles, no worries.

I pick out a beat, and slowly transform the random sounds into a calming drum line. Maybe one day it'll turn into a full song. For now, it's doing a very fine job of helping me.

There's a man laying beside me, sprawled out unconscious on the sofa. I'm not worried about the noise; he won't wake up anytime soon. I just keep hitting and pressing and feeling the sound rush through me.

My name is Will Champion, and drumming is my passion.

Even when I was a child, it always helped. I never played drums until I was older, but rhythm was a major part of my life. When I would walk places, I listened to the footsteps around me, the sound of pant legs rubbing against one another. Life is so rhythmic.

Ticking clocks, pencils scratching, people breathing, tapping feet. In every room I ever entered, there was always something to listen to. Some people just don't listen.

Some people just don't listen. I always listen. The drums don't listen. No, the drums talk. They speak, you just have to hear it.

"Close your eyes, relax," they say. "Throw all your problems away. There's nothing to worry about here, behind us."

I listen. They're right. Nothing is a problem when I sit behind the drums. It doesn't matter. It never happened.

My name is Will Champion, and tonight I killed my best friend.

-

I was already stressed when he walked into the Bakery. Earlier, I had come home to find a letter from my girlfriend. It seems that she had a little too much fun in Greece, and was leaving me for another man. He also knocked her up.

I couldn't stay at home. The place we shared, the place filled with pictures of us smiling and being happy together. Pictures of her being faithful and not pregnant by some other guy. I left. I didn't know where to go, I just walked.

Down the street, people were also walking. Being happy. Their girlfriends didn't leave them. I felt miserable. The cold December air hit me, but I couldn't feel it. I was numb. Without putting much thought into it, my feet took me to the Bakery. The door was locked. I remembered that we always keep a spare key nearby, though. I found it, and shortly after I walked into the building.

The warmth hit me, but it didn't do anything. I was still numb. I took off my jacket and hung it on the coat rack to the left of the door. It was quiet. I didn't expect anyone to be there, of course. Everyone was still on holiday.

I walked into the other room. Our instruments were neatly set up. Then I realised that I didn't want to be alone. I wanted to see my friends. I didn't know where they were, though.

I turned and walked back out. The stairs looked so inviting. I climbed the stairs to the second floor, the all-too-familiar portrait of John Lennon gazing at me with his knowing eyes the entire way. His girlfriend never left him.

When I reached the room at the top of the stairs, I finally broke down. I collapsed into the nearest chair. Burying my head in my hands, I sobbed.

I didn't even love her. She wanted marriage and kids, but I didn't. Not yet, anyway. I didn't even love her. If I had loved her, maybe she would have stayed. Maybe this was all my fault. She didn't have to be such a fucking whore about it, though.

I went back downstairs. I sat down behind my drum set. It was so quiet. I picked up my drumsticks and started playing. I wasn't playing anything in particular, just randomly hitting.

Once, I looked down and saw her face. She was just there, on the drum, smiling and laughing. I slammed my arm down and pounded the drum. I realised then that by beating the drum, I was indirectly hitting her. I did it again. It felt nice. I never thought playing drums could be so therapeutic.

After a few hours of indirectly beating my ex-girlfriend, I decided to take a small break. I ran to the bathroom and ran the water. I looked up at my reflection in the mirror. I looked horrible. I felt horrible. I splashed some water on my face and left. This time, I went back upstairs. I walked into the room, and he was already there.

"Chris?"

"Will! Hey, man!" he smiled.

"Why are you here?"

"I had nothing to do at home. I thought I might be more productive here. What about you?"

"Uh... it's a long story."

He frowned and walked over to me. Gently placing his hand on my shoulder, he said, "You can tell me. I've got all the time in the world." He walked me over to the sofa, and we both sat down. He was just looking at me, patiently waiting for me to start.

“I got a letter today,” I finally said. “From... from my girlfriend.”

“What did it say?”

“She left me. She found someone else-”

“Oh, Will...”

“And he knocked her up.” Chris hugged me. I shrugged him off. I didn't want him touching me. I stood up and walked across the room. I wanted to be alone. Or maybe I didn't know what I wanted. When I was alone, I would have given anything to see him, or Jonny, or Guy. Now that I had some company, I just wanted be alone.

“Everthing's gonna be OK,” Chris said as he walked over to me.

“You don't know that.”

“No, but I believe it. And it's her loss, anyway.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah, you're a great guy, Will. If she can't see that, well, then she's just an idiot.”

“She's a whore, that's what. I swear, if I ever see her again-”

“Don't get angry, Will, it's not worth it.”

“Why shouldn't I?” I yelled. Frustration was building up inside me. I was afraid it wouldn't stop. “I have every right to be angry! And that stupid whore deserves to have her throat sli-”

“Will, stop. Please.” He sounded frightened. I couldn't stop.

“Don't fucking tell me to stop!” I grabbed this sort of bowl thing that was resting on a table nearby, and smashed it into the ground. The shattered pieces looked like how I felt. So broken. Then I picked up a lamp and threw it across the room. Chris covered his head and moved towards the wall.

“Will, please, stop!”

Another bowl. Another lamp. Soon the room was filled with broken things. Chris was still cowering by the wall. I stood in the middle of the room, breathing heavy, trying to calm myself. Trying to stop being angry, stop breathing heavy, stop throwing things. It didn't work. I picked up another object, and Chris ran in front of me.

“Will, stop it,” he yelled. I threw the object at him, and he gracefully caught it. He placed it on the ground beside him, then raised his hands up, placing them on my shoulders. “I think you've broken enough stuff in here.”

“Don't touch me.”

“Will, please, calm down.”

“Don't touch me,” I repeated. I wanted to calm down, but my body wouldn't let me.

“Deep breaths, OK?”

“DON'T FUCKING TOUCH ME!” I pushed my hands to his chest and shoved him. That got him to let go. But I pushed his slender body too hard. And we were too close to the open door. Chris stumbled backwards. He made it through the door way. Suddenly, there wasn't any ground for him to stand on.

Once the first step appeared, Chris seemed to be floating. Then he attempted a back flip, but only made it halfway before gravity came crashing down on him, and he came crashing down on the stairs. His legs tumbled over his head, and his knees smashed into the steps. He flew the rest of the way down, landing on the floor, but not before smacking his head into the wall.

I slowly walked through the doorway. My hands were sweating, and my knees were shaking. I looked down. Chris was laying on the ground. Oh, God. Bits of blood his blood were splattered on the steps and the wall. I walked down the stairs, holding on to the railing so I wouldn't collapse. The closer I got, the more I freaked. It looked like he wasn't moving at all, not even breathing.

I knelt down beside his unconscious body. Blood was dripping from his nose, mouth, and forehead. I stretched a sweaty hand out and touched his neck, searching for a pulse.

Nothing.

Come on, Chris.

Nothing.

Don't do this.

Nothing.

He was already gone. I couldn't leave him there. I carried his lifeless body downstairs, and laid him down on the sofa. He was covered in blood. I killed him. He was just trying to help, and trying to be a good friend. And I killed him. I walked over to the drum set. What else could I do? Chris was gone.

My girlfriend left me. I played the drums. I killed my best friend. I played the drums.

The Glass (Finished)

CHRIS is meeting Phil somewhere. While he's waiting for the bus, Jonny shows up. Then there's an explosion. OR IS THERE?

It's not a slash fic!

---

It was so windy. My jacket was zipped all the way, but it was still fluttering all over the place. Maybe because it hung so loosely off me. I had lost a bit of weight since I started exercising (or stopped being lazy, rather), plus the fact that the jacket never fit me right to begin with. I could say that luckily my hair was short, so I didn't have to worry about my curls flying everywhere, but the only good that did was leave my ears exposed.

While I was sitting, waiting for the bus to arrive to take me to the restaurant where I was meeting Phil, I observed the ground around me. Piles of the red and yellow leaves that fell from the trees were scattered on the sidewalk. The rough wind brought more and more of the leaves to their fallen friends.

In a wonderful stroke of luck, my dear friend Jonny just happened to be walking the same sidewalk the leaves occupied. Now that I think about it, though, he could very well have been meeting with Phil as well. Phil never really told me what we'd be meeting for or who all would be coming, he just told me where to be and when to be there.

So Jonny was strolling along, head down, kicking some of the leaves as he went. A few cars passed by, and he looked up as he slowed down in front of the bench. As soon as he saw me, a smiled spread across his face and he lifted his arm to greet me. Then there was the explosion.

I don't know where it came from, all I know is that one second Jonny was in front of me, and the next I was laying on the ground. Actually, a burst of flame flew between us, then everything went black, then I was laying on the ground. Sirens were blaring around me, and I slowly opened my eyes. I could tell it was quite some time later, because the sky was darker. It wasn't nighttime yet, but the sun was setting. I couldn't tell where I was. Obviously I was near the bus stop, but I had been sent flying through the air at some point, because I was collapsed on the cold, wet grass that filled the small field behind the bus stop.

I had been laying on my stomach, so I turned on my side in order to get a better look at my surroundings. As I did so, I looked at the ground and realised that the grass was wet because it was covered in my blood. A sharp pain revealed itself in my abdomen, the cause of a three inch wide gash just under my ribcage. I fought through the pain as I pushed against the ground, lifting myself up. My one hand instinctively covered the wound, briefly touching a ragged object that appeared to be stuck in my side. I looked at it as best as I could, but with the combination of the blood that covered it and my slightly blurred vision it proved to be an almost impossible task.

I needed help. I lifted my head up to look for the origin of the sirens, but I must have been facing the wrong direction. I tried to turn, only to be denied by the stabbing pain. The wind was still going strong, and through my slightly clearer vision I could see what looked like a green hat floating through the sky. Then I remembered that Jonny had been practically next to me when it all happened. I searched as best as I could for his body; he had to be somewhere near me. Judging by the direction the wind was blowing, he must have been to my left. I looked, but saw nothing. Maybe he wasn't thrown like I was? Maybe not as far, maybe farther, maybe he'd already gotten help, or maybe...

I started screaming. It was the only thing I could think of doing. He had to be out there, he just had to be. It took all of my energy to scream his name only a few times, but I needed to know that he was there. A few moments later, my desperate cries were answered with a faint, "Chris?" somewhere behind me. This time I turned my entire body around. Sure enough, Jonny was only a few feet away, and what seemed like an eternity away from us was the street, filled with flashing lights and smoke.

"Are y-you OK?" I asked as loudly as I could, which was not very loud at all. He was still laying down, but as soon as he heard me, he sat up with almost no trouble at all.

"Um... I think so," he replied, swiftly brushing bits of dirt off his torso. "Are you?"

"Actually..." I had to think about this for a bit. There was an explosion. I was hundreds of feet away from where I'd been sitting before. There was some sort of pointy thing stuck in a nice, big cut on my side, which was still causing a throbbing pain. A fair amount of my blood was on the ground, and a cool sensation on the right side of my mouth told me that some of it was probably on my face as well. All this, and God knows what else. "M-maybe not."

-

The ambulance ride was pretty uneventful, so I won't bore you with it. I could take a step back and talk about Jonny running (because he was apparently perfectly fine) to bring the EMTs to where I was, gurney and all, but that was just as uneventful. It was at the hospital that things became interesting.

Having been in a situation that put my need for medical attention in a status known as 'emergency', I was rushed into the emergency room. A lovely nurse helped the EMT move me from the stretcher to a bed, where I was properly looked at. It turns out the pointy thing in my side was a large piece of glass, probably a bit of window from one of the cars in the explosion. That was all that was known at the time, too, was that three cars had been wrecked, and maybe even one or two people killed. No one was sure yet what caused it, or who, or just how it all happened. At that moment, though, the priority was just to help anyone who needed it, such as myself.

How I managed to be stabbed by glass and thrown across a field, landing on my stomach, without dying or something was apparently quite a miracle. Luckily, the glass was to the side enough that my landing didn't affect it. Unluckily, it caused a rather large portion of my blood to spill out. It didn't kill me, though, which I generally view as a good thing overall. No, it was something else that killed me. Metaphorically, of course. Morphine does wonders for relieving pain, though.

Eventually I was admitted and taken to a nice, warm room with a nice, warm bed. I was told to get some rest, as I would be going into surgery in the morning. It was so toasty in there that I almost forgot all about the bitter cold the wind had brought with it that day. The warmth allowed me to slowly drift to sleep, with the help of the morphine as well.

I don't think I had any dreams, or if I did, I can't remember them. All I remember is waking up to some bright lights and the sound of, "Mr. Martin... Mr. Martin, we have some news."

"Yeah?" It was the only thing my half-awake mind could think of saying.

"Due to an emergency, your surgery has been moved," a nurse informed me.

"Moved?"

"Yes. But don't worry, you'll be fine. It's only been moved to this afternoon."

"Um, OK."

"You're in good hands, trust me."

"Thanks." She gave a little nod, and left the room. I didn't mind that I had to wait longer, it was just that I wasn't sure of what to do until the surgery. So, I just went back to sleep. Another nurse woke me up a few hours later to feed me what I think was supposed to be lunch. Then some visitors stopped by, which I was very pleased with.

"They postponed your surgery? Can they really do that? I mean, you've kinda got a hole in your stomach," Guy said.

"Oh, please. It's not that bad," I said. I think the morphine had made me a bit loopy. "Besides, the nurse told me not to worry, so I'm not going to."

"Yeah, you'll be fine," Jonny agreed. "Chris survives everything."

"Exactly! I'm basically Superman."

"Is that a confession?" Will joked.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, it is." Like I said, loopy.

Skip another few hours, it's surgery time. Nurses came in, prepped me all good and proper, and rolled me down to the OR. Laying on the table, looking up at the ceiling, I'm told to take deep breaths and count backwards from ten as the doctors place a mask over me, dosing me with what I can only assume is some anesthetic. Slowly, which maybe was actually quickly, as I can only recall counting to eight, everything goes dark.

-

I woke up, only to realise that I wasn't awake. I had always wondered what it was like in the mind of someone who was under the knife. I'm sure it's not the same for everyone, but now I have a bit more knowledge in the area.

For me, everything was green. Lots of grass all around. There was one single tree in the middle of the field. Hanging from one of the branches was a tire swing. I'm pretty skinny, so I figured what the hell? I could probably fit in it. Well... I was wrong, let's leave it at that.

After, uh, half an hour, I left the tiny swing behind. I decided to just take a stroll around, see what else was out there. The grass stretched to the horizon, seemingly endless. I was the only one as far as I could tell. Still, I walked on and on, searching for other people. Soon the tree disappeared from sight, and I began to worry a bit.

It was only me out there in a vast space of emptiness. No Jonny, no Guy, no Will, no Phil, no anyone. I would even have settled for some paps. To make things worse, it was growing later and later. The bright sun slowly dissolved, leaving behind a trail of orange and pink that faded into the deep blue of the sky. I must have been walking for hours.

Stopping to take a small rest, I spotted what looked like a road. I squinted my eyes and found that my guess was correct. It was still far away, but it was definitely there. I gathered my strength, and sprinted to the road. I don't know what good it would have done, because it was only a road. I continued running anyway, though, until I finally reached the sweet pavement.

Out of nowhere, a giant van came barreling down the road. At first I didn't think they'd see me, and maybe they'd just hit me, but the car stopped feet before it could collide with my body. A tall man stepped out of the driver's side and walked towards me, his hand extended forward.

"Hello, I'm Chris!" he said. What a coincidence, eh?

"Hi. I'm Chris, too," I replied, shaking his hand. He seemed friendly enough.

"I know. We're all Chris here," he said with a creepy smile and wide eyes. Suddenly, I got the feeling that he wasn't so friendly.

"Oh. Then why did you introduce yourself?"

"You're new here. But we know who you are. You'll come with us now, we're going on a journey!"

"Um... I don't know," I apprehensively said. "I should probably just stay here."

"No, you're coming with us. You have to!" His enthusiasm was starting to scare me, but there was still something in his eyes that told me it was all right. These people weren't going to hurt me.

"OK," I said, and momentarily hesitated to move as he gestured to the car. Reaching the side door, he opened it for me, revealing two small children in the back seats. I sat in the empty seat next to the little girl, who was staring at me with the same creepy smile and wide eyes.

"Hello, Chris!" she chirped.

"Hey... Chris?"

"Yes, we are all Chris here."

"So I've heard."

"Would you like to see my drawing?" she asked. Being a polite man, I nodded, and she handed me a crumpled paper with some lines on it.

"What is it supposed to be?" I asked.

"Iunno," she shrugged. "You work it out." For some reason, that didn't sound odd to me. I looked back at the paper, and was amazed with what I saw. The lines were moving, forming what looked like a giant castle.

"It's a castle?"

"Yes. We're going on a journey!"

"To the castle?"

"Yes. You are a very smart man."

"Of course he is, sweetie," a voice said. I looked to the front of the van to see a woman sitting in the passenger seat. She was turned to face the little girl, and by God if she didn't have that same horrifying expression on her face. "He is the true Chris."

"He is?" she asked in amazement. "You're the true Chris?"

"I guess so," I answered. Then I turned to face the woman and asked, "What does that mean, the true Chris?" Her already creepy facial expression managed to twist into the most terrifying thing I've ever seen.

"God."

-

"God?" What was I getting myself into?

"Yes. We are bringing you home," older female Chris answered.

"I live in a castle, then?" Not bad, I think.

"Yes."

"Alright, cool." It seemed like there was nothing left to discuss, so I just let my eyes wander out the window. It was amazing how deserted everything was. I suppose that's a rather insulting reflection on my intelligence or something. In any case, the world surrounding the giant van seemed to be a completly blank grass canvas. It was a bit unnerving, to be honest, but as I was just in my imagination, and the people I was with seemed nice in their own creepy sort of way, I decided to just go with the flow.

Usually when you hear the word 'journey', you'd think some long trip, with lots of boring traveling and maybe even some obstacles along the way, right? So I did not expect a ten-minute car ride to be the entire journey. But ten minutes later, we're apparently there. It was magnificent how everything had changed. The desolate canvas was now rich with civilization, from massive crowds of people walking the small streets to towering buildings that sprouted from the ground. Looking around, however, there appeared to be no castle in sight.

"Um... I don't see this castle," I voiced.

"Of course not," older male Chris replied. "It doesn't exist yet."

"Oh." An odd comment in a sane man's world. In there, not so much. It made all the sense in the world. The castle didn't exist, because there was no reason for it to exist. Not before I had arrived, anyway. Same with the town. Everything had been empty before, because it didn't need to be there.

"Follow me," he said. He led me to a large plot of land, though I felt as if I already knew where to walk to. As soon as we stopped, poles began to emerge from the ground. Slowly, they connected to form the shape of a castle. Then the most wonderful thing happened.

A dark cloud formed just above the castle, and suddenly it began to... 'rain'. But it wasn't rain. It was chocolate. Chocolate poured from the sky, filling in the missing bits in between poles and hardening to form walls. Not only did I live in a castle, but I lived in a castle made of chocolate. Amazing.

"Well, go in then," he said. "You're finally home."

Home. It was like chocolate heaven. I was so happy. I walked inside, all the while taking in the astonishing sight before me. The walls were a rich dark chocolate (I would know, mostly because I took a bite of almost everything in there), and the floors were made of the most delicious white chocolate that I had ever tasted (that one was a bit harder to try). Even the furniture was chocolate.

I climbed up all the stairs, and found myself on the very top of the castle. I looked down to see the Chrises of my mind, all looking up at me and smiling. Every single one of them was gathered around to see me. It was a bit weird, but also a bit exciting at the same time. I gave them all a wave, and was returned with a few screams. It was kinda like a concert or something, except I wasn't singing (yet), none of the other three were there, and everyone had the same name. I decided it would be a nice thing if I thanked them for bringing me home, as they all seemed so kind, so I did.

Then, for some odd reason, it hit me. There weren't really any signs hinting at it, I just somehow knew. The castle I was standing on meant something. This wasn't just like chocolate heaven, it was chocolate heaven. I was dead.

-

"Chris Martin, lead singer of the British rock quartet Coldplay, died yesterday afternoon due to complications during surgery. The surgery was to repair the damages the frontman suffered after surviving the tragic suicide bombing that left four dead, and several others, including Martin, in critical condition just two days ago. The band have already issued a statement on their website, paying their respects to, quote, 'the kindest, sweetest man who ever walked the Earth'. His death is a great loss to the music industry, as his band was one of few to be considered the biggest band in the world. No funeral arrangements have been annouced as of yet. In other news..."

"I can't believe he's... gone..." Jonny whispered. He, Will, and Guy were sitting at the Bakery. Guy stood up and turned off the television.

"Me neither," he said. Will had been completely quiet; he appeared to be deep in thought.

"How could this happen?" Jonny asked. "He wasn't supposed to... he was too young."

"No, Jon," Will finally spoke, in a epiphanic tone, "the four-year-old who was killed in that explosion, he was too young."

"32! Chris had so much potential. He was already brilliant, imagine what he could have done by the time he was, like, eighty!"

"We'll never know."

"Of course not, 'cause now he's..." Jonny gasped, beginning to shake.

"It's horrible, yeah, and it shouldn't have happened. But..." Will paused, trying to phrase his thoughts in the best way possible. "Don't you think we should be celebrating his life?"

"32..." Jonny repeated in disbelief.

"32 great years. He was one of the happiest people I know, most of the time. He got to make a career out of doing what he loved to do. And he had you as a best friend. Who could want more?"

"I think I have to agree with Will," Guy said after a few moments of tense silence that had been filled with mixed stares between Jonny and Will. "Chris probably wouldn't want us all to be so depressed..."

"I can't help it," Jonny said, shaking his head. "It just... hurts, you know?"

"Yeah." With that, everyone went silent. Jonny collapsed his torso, relying merely on arms, which were propped up on his knees, to stop from falling forward.

-

A few days later, almost nothing had changed. No matter how hard he tried, Jonny could not stop thinking about Chris. He'd never had a better friend in his entire life, and every morning he had to remind himself that he no longer had that. Every morning he'd look in the mirror and see only himself, and he'd remember that he was alone.

One day the mirror was just too much to handle. The perfect-looking glass... nothing was ever perfect. Nothing ever could be perfect. So Jonny had to smash it. He tightened his hand in a fist, and without thinking twice thrust his hand into the mirror, shattering it into a dozen pieces. The pain in his hand was nothing compared to the pain he'd suffered over the past few days.

Glass. Glass killed Chris. Chris' death killed Jonny. Glass practically killed Jonny. Glass should kill Jonny. It was only fitting. And there was only one way to make sure. His blood was already on the broken mirror. He looked for the sharpest piece, then carefully pulled it from the frame. Toward his open wrist he shakily moved his hand as someone was opening the door.

"Hey, is everything OK- Jonny!" Guy exclaimed, rushing over to Jonny and ripping the glass from his hand. "What the fuck do you think you're doing??"

"I can't. I can't do this anymore. Any of it. It's too hard." Guy threw the glass into the sink, where it broke ever further, and forcefully grabbed Jonny's shoulders.

"This is hard on all of us!! I know he meant a lot to you-"

"A lot? He was my best friend! The only person who ever really understood me." Tears rolled down Jonny's cheek, his breath heavy and uneven. "What am I supposed to do without him?"

"Live... and live like there's no tomorrow, because you never know when something will happen." Guy reached his arms around Jonny and pulled him close. Jonny willingly hugged him back, burying his head in Guy's shoulder. "Jonny... we can't lose you, too."

After a few moments of silence, Jonny asked, "Do you think it'll ever stop?"

"No," Guy simply replied. "It might not even get easier. But that's life, right?"

"I hate life," Jonny mumbled. Guy chuckled a bit, and tightened his hold on Jonny.

"Yeah, me too."

-

"So, can you make it or not?" Phil asked. I set down the glass I had in my hand and switched the phone to my other ear, all the while watching the water ripple from the motion. The translucent waves were reflecting something blue and round. Oh, those were my eyes. "Hello?"

"Huh?"

"Can you make it or not?" he repeated, disgracefully adding in a, "tosser," at the end.

"Um..." I still stared at the glass. What to do, what to do? "I don't think I can, sorry."

"Great, now we'll have to reschedule. Thank you, Mr. Diva."

"Sorry," I apologized, in the most earnest way I could.

"Whatever. Talk to you later, man."

"Bye." I turned the phone off and placed it on the table next to the glass. Glass- it's a funny thing, isn't it?

I probably shouldn't have lied to Phil like that, but I was tired and didn't want to go out. Plus, I had a bad feeling about that night. Instead, I opted to flop down on the sofa, turn on the telly, and watch a bit of Entourage. That seemed like the thing to do.

People go through life never knowing exactly what would have or could have happened if they had done certain things rather than others. Never knowing which option would really turn out better in the long run. Should I go meet with Phil, or stay at home and watch Entourage? Should I wear the purple shirt, or the one that makes me look like I'm homeless (some people would say they both do, but that's beside the point)? Should I date this really nice girl, or her banging hot friend? Everyday we encounter so many of these choices. The best any of us can hope to do is just pray we made the right choice and wonder 'What would it be like if...?'. Imagine all the possibilities. Sometimes, though, it's better not to ask.

Even Before I Sleep (Finished)

IT'S late at night. Someone knocks on Jonny's door. It's Chris! And boy, has he got a story to tell.

It's not a slash fic!

---

“JONNY!” a voice yelled from behind my door, the owner of the voice pounding heavily on the door. It was nearly midnight, and I had been in the living room, relaxing and reading a book when I was startled by the sudden surge of noise. “Jonny, please, let me in!”

The person's tone sounded very urgent and frightened, so I got up as quickly as I could. I threw open the door, revealing the tall, lanky, curly-haired man I knew as my best friend.

“Chris?” His face was extremely pale and gaunt, his eyes were teary, and he sounded as though he was out of breath. “What's wrong?”

“Jonny, can I stay with you tonight? Please?” I'd never seen him more scared-looking in my life.

“Yeah, come in,” I said, moving over to allow him to enter the room. He immediately walked over to the couch, sitting down and resting his head in his hands. “What's wrong?” I asked again, taking a seat next to him.

He wouldn't answer, no matter how many times I asked him. He refused to say anything at all, merely keeping his head in his hands and shaking his head whenever I asked a question.

“You know what? I'll make some tea, OK? That might make you feel a bit better. And then maybe you'll answer me.” He lifted his head up and folded his arms tightly across his chest.

“OK,” he whispered. I walked into the kitchen and began to make the tea. I also found a bar of chocolate in my fridge and figured that he'd appreciate that, too. Carrying the bar and a cup of tea, I made my way to where Chris was sitting, still in the same position he'd been in when I left.

“Here you go,” I said, handing him the tea and the chocolate. He took both, making sure not to hit the hot cup with his hand. As he pulled the cup towards his mouth to take a drink, I noticed that he was shaking a considerable amount. I really wanted to know what had happened to make Chris like this. Being the concerned friend I am, I decided to ask one more time. “What's wrong, Chris?”

His eyes widened as he turned to me. He opened his mouth, but didn't speak for quite some time. “They...” he began. I thought I'd finally gotten him to talk, but almost immediately after he turned away again, not speaking another word.
“Who?” He shook his head again. I was annoyed that he refused to answer, but I was also really worried. Chris was the most talkative person I knew, so something horrible must have happened for him to not want to speak. “Right, if you're not gonna talk, then I'm just gonna go to bed. I'll get you blankets and stuff so you can sleep out he-”

“No!” he yelled, grabbing my arm, a look of terror emerging on his face.

“...No?”

“Can you stay out here with me?”

“Why?”

“I don't want to be alone... what if they find me?”

“Who? Who's gonna find you?” Unsurprisingly, he shook his head.

“Please, stay with me? I feel much safer with you here.”

“Fine, I'll stay. I'll just get the stuff now.” Chris let go of my arm, and I stood up and walked down the hallway to the closet where I had a few spare blankets and pillows. I grabbed a blanket and pillow for each of us, and as I turned around I nearly crashed into Chris. “What the hell are you doing?”

“I didn't want to be alone, so I followed you.”

“You couldn't even be alone for a minute?”

“No,” he said quietly.

“Chris, will you please tell me what happened?” I asked, staring into his eyes. He looked so scared and helpless.

“I... I can't. I want to, but I just can't... I really want to... but I can't.”

“Why not?”

“Jonny... what they did... I...” He stared at the ground and started twitching. He appeared to be in some sort of trance.

“Chris? Chris?” I threw the pillows and blankets onto the floor and grabbed his shoulders. “Chris, snap out of it! Come on, please? CHRIS!” I yelled, and I began to shake him. After a few seconds he seemed to come back to reality.

“Jonny...” He wrapped his arms around me and put his head on my shoulder. I could hear him crying.

“Chris, it's OK. You're with me now, you're OK.” I let him hug me for a few more minutes, my shoulder soon soaked with his tears. “Come on, I think it's time to sleep now. Maybe in the morning you'll be better. And you can tell me what happened, yeah?”

“I'll try,” he sobbed. “I really will, but I'm not making any promises. Jonny, what they did...”

-

I was having the most interesting dream. I was some sort of royalty, and everywhere I went people would give me gifts. They'd give me a variety of items, from old, tattered clothes to really fancy cars. It was quite pleasant.

As I was walking down one road, I saw a small child. He was by himself, and he looked frightened. I walked over to him, and as I did so he looked up at me. I wanted to ask him what was wrong, but for some reason I couldn't speak. We both just stood there, staring at each other. Eventually, I decided that it would be a waste of time to try to talk to him. I walked away, and he began to cry. I didn't turn around, though, but for some reason his sobs grew louder and louder as I walked further and further away.

I opened my eyes to see that the crying was actually coming from the sofa above me. I had been kind and let Chris sleep on the sofa while I slept on the floor.

“Chris?”

“Yeah?” he sniffed.

“What time is it?”

“It's a little after three.” I sat up. Chris was curled in the corner of the sofa, his arms wrapped tightly around his knees, tears streaming down his cheeks.

“Have you gone to sleep yet?”

“No.” I moved from the floor to the seat next to him.

“Come here,” I said, pulling him close to me. He let go of his knees and put his arms around my torso, resting his head on my chest. “Whatever it is, Chris, whatever happened, just forget it for a little bit, OK? Get some rest.”

“I can't forget it. And I'm tired, but I can't sleep. What if they find me here?”

“No one's gonna find you here, OK? And if they do, I'm here with you.”

“Yeah, but what if they hurt you, too? Then what would I do? Jonny, I need you.”

“We'll be fine. Just, please, get some sleep.” Neither of us talked after that, and a few minutes later Chris seemed to be asleep. His breathing had evened out, but he was still whimpering a bit. “Oh, poor Chrissy, what did they do to you?”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

When I woke up again, it was light outside. Chris was still attached to me, but he was awake. He seemed to be humming, but I couldn't tell what he was humming. I shifted a bit and he lifted his head.

“Sorry, did I wake you?”

“No, you didn't. Did you get any sleep?”

“A little. But I think I kept having nightmares.”

“Will you tell me what happened now?”

“If I can.”

“Did someone hurt you?” He shook his head.

“They tried. But they got...”

“Got what?”

“No, not what. They... they killed...”

“Killed? Chris, someone was killed?”

“Uh huh.” He starting sobbing again.

“Who was killed?”

“I don't know who she was.”

“Who killed her?”

“I don't know.”

“Where did all of this happen?”

“I'm not sure.”

“Chris, we have to call the cops.”

“What good is it gonna do, though? I can't remember anything except... except the sounds... squirming... bl-blood...”

“Oh, God. Um... can you tell me what you remember?”

“I'll try...”

-

Last night I ate out for dinner, because I didn't have any food at home. I was walking back from the restaurant, and it was kinda dark outside. I'd almost made it home, and some girl stopped me.

“Excuse me, Chris?” I turned around. She looked like she was about twenty, with wavy, brown hair and green eyes. “Sorry to bother you, but do you think I could get an autograph?”

“Sure.” She had a marker, but she didn't really know what she wanted me to sign. I patiently waited while she looked through her bag, eventually pulling out a scrap piece of paper. As I was signing it, I felt a piece of cold metal shoved into my neck.

“OK, Martin, don't make a sound or this gun goes off, you got it?” some guy said, grabbing my arm and dragging me off the sidewalk. I looked at the girl, who was laughing and talking with another guy. The first guy continued to drag me until we reached a car on the other side of the street. He opened the door and threw me inside, still pointing the gun at me. “Come on, you two! We gotta leave before someone sees us.”

The girl and the other man both got in the car, the man in the driver side and the girl in the passenger side. The man with the gun pushed me into the next seat and sat in the car.

“Who are you?” I asked. “And what do you want with me?”

“We're people, and you'll see what we want soon enough.” We drove for half an hour, stopping outside of some dank building I'd never seen before. The driver got out first, then opened the door for me. He had a gun, too. They pushed me into the building, the two guys, and the girl walked in front of us. We walked up a few flights of stairs and eventually stopped at one of the doors. She pulled out some sort of card and scanned it in front of this keypad thing.

The door swung open and she led us inside. The room was almost empty. There were a few chairs and that was it. The girl sat down in one of the chairs, and one of the men pushed me into one of the others.

“So, Chris, how are you?” she nonchalantly asked.

“Um...”

“Let me guess, afraid? I can imagine that.”

“Who are you?”

“That's not important. What's important is that you do as we say, OK? Otherwise that pretty little head of yours will be blown off. And we don't want that, do we?” She stared at me, expecting me to speak or something, but I just stared back. “Listen, you have something we need.”

“Whatever it is, you can have it, just, please, let me go.”

“We can't do that.”

“Why not?”

“You're wearing it.”

“I'm wearing it? What the hell are you talking about?”

“We need your sweat.”

-

“My sweat? Why?” I looked around at all three of them, and I realized something. They were all wearing the same shirt- black, with the letters CCM embroidered in yellow. I had no idea what it meant, but I figured they were in some sort of group.

“You're the prophet, Chris. You were sent by the heavens above to bring peace and happiness to this sad and miserable world.”

“What?”

“We've dedicated our lives to help spread your wise words in order to achieve this goal. But after a while, we realized that your words alone would not work.”

“I think you're crazy.”

“Don't insult us, we control your life right now, remember? Anyway, we spent months researching ways that we could further your progress. And, after many, many sleepless nights of testing, we found the answer: your sweat.”

“What has my sweat got anything to do with this?”

“Don't you see, Chris? Your sweat has healing powers. If we were to bottle it, and distribute it around the world, we could end all illness and disease. You could end all illness and disease. Isn't that what you want?”

“I want to get out of here. You guys are-”

“No, we're right, and you know it.” She was yelling now. “Now, if you're not willing to just give us your sweat, then we'll have to do this the hard way, won't we?” She looked up at the two men behind me and nodded. Then everything went black.

When I finally came to, I was lying on the floor, wrapped in, like, eight blankets. I couldn't move, and it was hotter than hell. After looking around for a bit, I finally saw that the two men were sitting next to me, conversing.

“Hey, do we really need her?”

“She came up with this whole thing.”

“Yeah, but we know what to do. And if we, you know, get rid of her, then it's more money for us.”

“Ah, I get you.”

“Plus, I can't stand her.”

“Yeah, she's... wait, shut up, he's awake.”

“What are you doing to me?” I asked. I could barely breathe on account of the heat.

“We're taking your sweat, sir.”

“Sir? You kidnap me, knock me out, and steal my sweat, but you call me 'sir'?”

“You are the prophet, sir. We must.”

“How much of my sweat have you taken?”

“Uh... an eighth of a cup, sir.”

“And you think that this is gonna work?”

“We know it will work, sir.” The girl walked back into the room at that moment.

“Oh, he's awake now? Good.” She walked over to where we were and knelt down beside me. “Sorry, Chris, but we had to do it.”

“No, you didn't.”

“Yes, we did. You wouldn't consent, so we had to take action. That's life.” She looked over me with her green eyes. “But you do look like you could use a bit of a break. Boys, take off the blankets.”

Hesitantly, the men moved and unwrapped the blankets. When I was finally free, I stood up and stretched.

“You can take a five minute break, then we'll wrap you back up. Or you could willingly give us your sweat, and you wouldn't have to go through this again.”

“I'm not gonna do it.”

“Yes, you will. Maybe not voluntarily, but you will. You have to.” She sighed. “I wish we didn't have to do this, Chris, but we do."

-

Five minutes later, the girl told the men to wrap me up again. They'd had enough of her by then, though.

“Boys, wrap him up again,” she ordered after I once again refused to obey.

“No,” one of the men replied.

“Excuse me?” she asked, turning around to face the one who spoke.

“We're tired of you. You're not worth anything, anyway. You're just getting in the way.”

“What?” She sounded a little surprised, but there was a definite tone of terror in her voice.

“Your time is up.” The one man punched her, which I thought had knocked her out, because she fell to the ground. Then the other man pulled a... a knife out of his pocket and sl-slashed her n-neck and stom-stomach. She was st-still conscious, though, because she st-started screaming and-and squirming...

“You can stop now, Chris,” Jonny said. “You don't have to continue the story.”

“And they t-took her in the other room and... One of the men left his keys on the floor, or maybe they fell, but I grabbed them and ran. I could hear g-gunshots and screaming when I left, but I just kept going. I took their c-car and came here.”

“Chris... That's...”

“They'll find me, Jonny. I have their car, they're gonna find me.” Suddenly, there was a loud bang on the door.

“OPEN UP, MARTIN, WE KNOW YOU'RE IN THERE.”

“That's them... I told you!”

“We need to call the cops,” Jonny said, standing up and running to the phone. I could hear him talking, but I wasn't paying much attention. I was frozen, staring at the door. They found me, and they were gonna find a way to get in, and they were gonna hurt me.

“I shouldn't have done it. I shouldn't have left. Now they're here and they're gonna hurt me, Jonny, and they might hurt you, too. I shouldn't have left. Everything would've been fine if I had stayed with them. I should have stayed.”

“Chris, will you listen to yourself? Everything would not have been fine if you stayed. It's better that you left.”

“Hey!” a voice shouted from behind the door. It wasn't either of the men that were after me, though.

“My landlord?” Jonny asked. There was a gunshot, then another, and then the door swung open. The two men started to walk into the apartment, but something stopped them.

“Freeze!” the cops yelled. The one man turned, lifted his gun, and shot. There was a groan from one of the cops, and almost immediately there was another shot. This shot was from the other cop, however, and it hit the man, knocking him to the ground. The other man dropped his gun and raised his hands. I couldn't work out how the cops had managed to get there so fast, but I was glad they did.

“Are you happy, Chris?” the one man shouted at me as he was being handcuffed. “You've killed millions of people, now. You could have saved them all.”

“No, you're fucking insane! It wouldn't have worked, and you guys were only in it for the money. Anyway, if it was going to work, I'd have just given it away, not tried to profit from it. You make me sick.”

“Are you two OK?” the cop asked.

“Yeah, we're fine, but my friend,” Jonny said, pointing to me. “He saw them kill some girl.”

“Is that so?” I nodded. “Well, then you're going to have to come with us and tell us what happened.”

“Can Jonny come with me?” I asked, turning to Jonny. There was no way I could do it without him.

“Yeah, I suppose. Follow me, then.” The cop started walking, and Jonny immediately followed him. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, then started walking. It wouldn't be easy telling the story again, but I knew I had to. Crazy or not, a girl was dead, and someone had to do something about it. I just wished it hadn't been me.