Whisper 1.15

Dante invites me to a house party at his place, and the first two people I see there are Jin and Chauncey, and it looks like they’re flirting.

Maybe this is why they were suddenly in such a hurry to move out to their own place!


I look around for Dante, but he’s busy acting as the party host. I don’t feel like being third wheel with my former room-mates, and I don’t really feel like socializing with the others there who I don’t know. None of my friends are here.

So I decide to spend the party drawing. It worked when I was a kid during lunch hours when I couldn’t find anyone to play with, and it worked great at the party, too.


Dante comes over after the party. I invite him to spend the night. We share a few whispers and caresses, and then he says he’s beat and heads to bed. “Join me soon,” he says.

I’m painting in the other room when I hear a choking sound from the bedroom. I race in to find Dante grabbing his throat.

“Starving…” he whispers.

“Do you need blood?” I ask, rolling up my sleeve to expose a vein.


Then there’s the smell of sulfuric smoke, and I feel coldness behind me.


Dante is glowing red, like Countess Snypes on that fateful night.

“Dante!” I cry. I try to reach the reaper to plead with him, but I’m unable to approach.


Dante acts like he already knows him.

“I’m ready to return,” he says.


And he’s gone! Like that. Our love that was to withstand the passing of earth and all of history, and Dante is gone! I would have given him my blood.


Dante’s gone, and I’m not. I’m still here. I water the garden the next morning. Winter is over. It feels almost warm. And Dante is gone. I found a few ashes near the bed and I swept them up and buried them in the back garden, with a small tombstone marking the spot.

Dante’s gone.


But I’m not.

I take my guitar to the park. I’ve heard music helps you feel better. It doesn’t. It doesn’t change a thing.


But it’s something to do. It’s something besides standing there, looking out and questioning. It quiets the mind.


Maybe it does do something, even if it doesn’t change what happened. It doesn’t change that yesterday, the guy I loved was there, and now, he’s not.


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