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Sunshine, there ain’t a thing that you can do that’s gonna ruin my night. But there’s just something about this dizzy dreamer and her bleeding little blue boy, licking your fingers like you’re done, and you decided that there’s so much more than me.
“Does anyone here object to this union?”
Felix held his breath, looking around the church, giving Marzia a reassuring smile. Or maybe the reassurance was for himself. Was marrying someone you didn’t actually love ever justified?
Fortunately for the couple, no one in the church even moved. The candles were all lighting up the cathedral beautifully. Everything was perfect.
Besides the fact that he wasn’t marrying the right person.
Marzia was pretty, smart, sweet, and treated him wonderfully.
But she wasn’t Cry.
Nevertheless, he’d gotten past that point in his life and he was just about over it.
Just about.
I love Marzia, Felix pounded in his head. I love Marzia. Not Ryan. Marzia.
Ryan.
Oh, Ryan.
Felix hadn’t really wanted to leave him. He didn’t want to tell him he didn’t love him. He didn’t want to lie to the boy he loved.
But homophobia spreads rampantly and the rumors swirled around like crazy. Pewdie’s bros were suspicious. His family was suspicious. Hell, even strangers were suspicious. And he just couldn’t let that ruin his Youtube career.
Then he met Marzia and everything fell into place...well, besides his feelings. But he assumed he’d learn to love the beautiful, doting girl.
He still hadn’t, unfortunately.
He liked her a lot, but he just didn’t love her.
“Do you Felix?”
Pewdie snapped out of his thoughts of Cry and nodded. “I do.”
“Marzia, do you-”
The minister was totally interrupted when a loud bang was heard throughout the church. The wedding-goers in the pews all turned around in confusion. What they -- and Pewds and Marzia -- saw shocked them all.
It was Ryan Terry, better known by his Youtube name, Cryaotic (or Cry). He was clad in a jet black sweatshirt, skinny jeans, and black converse. And he was smiling, smiling so much that he looked scary.
A hush of whispers around the church as people wondered who he was and why he was there. Only Pewdiepie and Marzia knew who he was, but even Marzia didn’t know what he was doing there.
Ever so slowly, Cry walked toward the bride and groom at the center of the aisle, everyone too speechless and puzzled to speak.
“Cry-” Pewdie went to say, but Cry shushed him, turning to Marzia.
“You know, despite everything, Marzia, you’re still beautiful. Gorgeous, even. And also despite everything, there’s not a single thing that you could possibly say or do that would ruin this moment.”
Marzia looked over at Felix, confused.
By Ryan’s statements, everyone in the pews assumed that he was her ex. Boy, were they wrong.
“It’s beautiful, really. This church is perfect, Felix is perfect, you’re perfect, your clothes, the guests and their clothes, the flower girl, the ring bearer, the wedding party, the minister, hell, it’s all just perfect,” Cry said, a sick grin on his.
Felix frowned. He’d never seen this side of Cry. However, he did recall a conversation in which he and Cry had discussed his past. A past that was full of some pretty dark things. Had that Cry returned?
“But there’s something imperfect,” he said, reaching out and running his fingers along the sleeves of Marzia’s dress.
She flinched and inched away from him.
His sick grin deepened. “Sorry, did I scare you?”
She didn’t reply.
“Does this scare you, too?” he asked.
She and Felix frowned in utter bewilderment. But that look of bewilderment disappeared on Felix’s face when he saw the flash of silver in Cry’s hand.
And baby, honestly, it’s harder breathing next to you. I shake. I brought a gun and as the preacher tried to stop me, hold my heart, it’s beating for you, anyway.
Cry’s entire body was trembling and his face was crumbling. He looked straight at Felix and said, “My heart...It beats for you. And only you.” Then he looked back at Marzia.
“Cry, don’t-”
But Felix was too late.
What if I can’t forget you? I’ll burn your name into my throat, I’ll be the fire that will catch you. What’s so good about picking up the pieces? None of the colors ever light up anymore in this hole.
Before anyone could react, Cry was on Marzia, taking his knife and stabbing her viciously. Her blood shot out of her stomach and covered his hands, but he did not stop. And even when help came, Cry was too busy to notice.
“Stop!” the congregation screamed.
The preacher’s screams were incoherent as he tried to rip Cry away from Marzia. It was too late, anyway. The poor girl was dead.
And Felix. Well, Felix was too staggered to even move. Which was why Cry grabbed him next and held the already bloodied knife to his throat.
“Get away from me!” he screamed, “get away or I swear, I’ll slice his throat!”
A few people were on their cell phones calling 911, but most of them were swarmed around the dead girl, trying desperately and futilely to resuscitate her, attempting to apply pressure to the deep wounds to stop the profuse bleeding.
Nobody prays for the heartless. Nobody gives another penny for the selfish. You’re learning how to taste what you kill now. Don’t mind me, I’m just reaching for your necklace. Talking to my momma about this little girl from Texas.
Cry kicked at Pewdie’s shins. “Walk,” he grunted.
Felix walked.
“Where’s a door that locks on one side?” he asked Felix, heading toward a hallway.
Hands shaking, Felix pointed to a door at the end of the hallway.
Cry smirked, kicking Felix again. “Walk, Pewds.”
The knife was still pressed alarmingly close to Felix’s throat. If Cry were to make a single wrong movement, Felix was dead. That and the fact that Marzia’s blood covered he and Cry was making the Swedish Youtuber absolutely sick.
“Open the door, Felix,” Cry commanded, squeezing him into a sadistic hug.
Pewdie did so, growing nauseous at the metallic smell of blood -- his fiancée’s blood -- hitting him hard.
“Wh-what do you want, Cry?” Pewdie asked, turning the doorknob.
“You know what I wanted,” Cry replied, slamming the door shut with his foot. He locked it and snickered. “Cops’ll be here soon,” he said, “I’m going to jail, Pewds.”
With that, he lowered the knife from Pewdie’s throat and threw him against the wall. Felix’s shoulder hit the brick wall hard and he cried out in pain.
“Did that hurt?!” Cry screamed, “Huh, Pewds?! What hurt worse? Getting thrown into the wall or watching your little bride die? What was it!? Answer me!”
Felix gritted his teeth, a small tear running down his cheek. What had happened to his Cry? Where was the caring, kind, wouldn’t-hurt-a-fly boy that he knew?
“This is all gonna be my fault, ya know? No one knew about us, so they’re all gonna think I was just some crazy fan. ‘Cause only a couple people know I’m Ryan and Cry. You and I are the only ones who knew we were together, Pewds. No one’s gonna trust a murderer. And no one can trust a dead guy,” his smile disappeared and he looked down at his bloodied hands.
Cry’s statement made Pewdie’s blood run cold. “B-but-”
Cry ignored him. “No one cares about selfish people, Felix. So no one should care for you. But poor Marzia. Even I feel sorry for her. It wasn’t her fault that you used her as a scapegoat. And I tried to warn you. I tried to tell you that if you didn’t call off the wedding something bad would happen. And it did.”
Pewdie wracked his brain. What the absolute fuck was Cry talking about?
Then it hit him.
A couple weeks ago, he’d gotten a text telling him to call of the wedding. He ignored it. Yesterday, Cry’s number had popped up on his phone. Again, he ignored it.
This was all his fault. Marzia’s death was completely his fault.
What if I can’t forget you? I’ll burn your name into my throat, I’ll be the fire that will catch you. What’s so good about picking up the pieces? None of the colors ever light up anymore in this hole.
“You know, Felix,” Cry continued, “I really, really loved you. More than anything. More than you could ever imagine. And so did Marzia. You’re lovable and I don’t know what it is about you. Maybe it’s because you’re hot. Maybe it’s because you’re Swedish. Or maybe it’s because you seem to care so much.”
“Cry, I-” Pewds tried to say.
Again, Cry ignored him. “I asked you what hurt worse because I wanted you to know that it can’t possibly compare to the pain I felt when you left. When you told me we couldn’t be together anymore just because I’m a guy. That’s it! Like, seriously? Just because you’re too much of a pussy to admit who you are doesn’t mean you can hurt me in the process!” Cry bit his lip and his face softened.
A glimmer of hope lit in Pewdie because that look, the one Cry now wore, was the one the Cry that he knew. “And I’m sorry, Cry. I’m so sorry. I-”
The expression vanished. “Sorry? You’re sorry?!” Cry screamed. “Sorry doesn’t make up for anything, Pewds! Absolutely nothing!”
Pewdie opened his mouth to reply, but his tongue couldn’t seem to form any words.
Luckily, Cry’s could. “You know what sucks the most about having your heart broken? Huh?”
Felix did not reply.
Cry’s face distorted into a twisted grimace. “Even when you pick the pieces of up, they never fit back together completely right.”
Pewdie sighed. As insane as Cry really was right now, at least that part made sense. A heartbreaking, revealing truth, regardless.
Just give him back to me. You know I can’t afford the medicine that feeds what I need. So, baby, what if I can’t forget you? Collide invisible lips like a shadow on the wall, And just throw, oh, no. You can’t just throw me away.
“Ryan, please-”
Cry’s eyes snapped back to Pewds. The use of his real name had startled him. But what he didn’t realize was that it had broken him, too. “What did you expect, Pewds? For me to go and find a girl, just like you did? Pretend to love her and marry her, forget all about you? Well, I couldn’t, Felix. I love you way too much.” He looked down at his feet, tears falling from behind his glasses.
“You see? You can’t just throw me away! You can’t pretend like I was nothing to you! Because I know at one time, if not still now, I was your everything. And I let myself go crazy and kill an innocent girl!” The sobs continued and he buried his face in his hands.
That was when Pewdie stood up and raised his hand to Cry’s and gently stroked his palm. “I’m sorry.”
Behind tear-framed glasses, Cry stared at him inconsolably. That was the moment that Pewdie’s heart truly broke. He’d ruined this boy’s life -- and ended another.
So what if I can’t forget you? I’ll burn your name into my throat, I’ll be the fire that’ll catch you. What’s so good about picking up the pieces? What if I don’t even want to?
“Did you mean it when you said you were going to kill me?” Pewdie asked, staring at Cry.
Cry wiped at his eyes, Marzia’s blood smearing on his face. “I did. But.. I can’t. Look Felix, the police’ll be here any second and-”
“Kill me.”
“Wh-what?”
“Do it, Cry. You know you want to. You know I’m selfish. With Marzia dead and you in prison, I’ll just live miserably. And you know I’m too much of a pussy to do it myself. So please...,” he trailed off.
“Felix, I-”
“Fucking hell! Just do it already!”
Cry sighed. “I love you.”
“I love you, too, Ryan,” Felix said, leaning forward and kissing Cry’s lips one last time. Luckily for both of them, Marzia’s blood hadn’t reached Cry’s mouth.
So what if I can’t forget you? I’ll burn your name into my throat, I’ll be the fire that’ll catch you. What’s so good about picking up the pieces? What if I don’t even want to?
Cry’s ear perked up at the sound of running his footsteps. The door was locked, which meant that would buy him some time, but not much.
So what if I can’t forget you? I’ll burn your name into my throat, I’ll be the fire that’ll catch you.
With shaking hands, he raised his blade and stabbed Felix once, twice, three times, and didn’t stop until he heard the door fall.
What’s so good about picking up the pieces? None of the colors ever light up anymore in this hole. Just give him back to me. You know I can’t afford the medicine that feeds what I need. So, baby, what if I can’t forget you?
I’d better learn to live alone.
“I love you, Felix,” he sobbed, before plunging the knife into his own chest.
What’s so good about picking up the pieces?
The police ruled the crime as a murder and double suicide.
What’s so good about picking up the pieces?
Marzia received her own plot.
What’s so good about picking up the pieces?
Pewds and Cry were buried side by side.
Oh.