The Old Clock by DazWolf

(Disclaimed: worked-in lyrics from 'My December' by Mike Shinoda & Chester Bennington)

His blood ran cold, his breath catching in his throat. Every inhale stung his lungs and his heart, each beat echoing in his mind as loudly as the clock ticking out in the hallway. It thundered in the silence, one that neither form would dare break. Falling to his knees on the floor, he angrily brushed his tears away, telling himself that this wasn't the time, not now, not in front of the other.

It was dark around them, middle of the night easily as no light entered the room, nothing to see by, and he knew what it was to be blind. He fumbled with his hands, losing his thought, struggling to thing of something to do with them before finally letting them drop in his lap. Whatever happened, he couldn't control himself, couldn't keep anything calm and collected, it had become more than impossible.

"Darren, Dazza...Why didn't you talk to me? Why didn't you say something, in the very least actually try to let me in, let me try to understand? Why did you lock yourself away from everyone like this?"

He was met with silence, the clock still ticking away.

"You have no idea what happened to me, my heart and mind after you left. I lost it...I hid...God, I hid for so long, never talking to anyone. You probably thought I had died, dropped off the face of the Earth for all I know. I don't know if it even crossed my mind to think of you again, see how you were getting on with all your fame. I did finally listen to your solo album, and you did do a good job at it. Imagine, you finally picking up a guitar all on your own. Leo must have been amazed.

You left me a message on my birthday, even sent a card, more than I ever considered doing for yours. I guess I am insensitive...I mean, we used to be everything, didn't we? Used to have the fancy cars, a house that you could get lost in if you blinked. Had enough money to choke a horse, but that didn't matter because we were both human, both knew that there was more to life than material things that could be bought and given. We knew that friendship used to be worth more.

It could have been any of it that got that ball moving, the one that eventually bumped me out of the picture. You know, I always wondered, even after everything we knew and had, why you didn't give it all away like I did. I wanted some sort of peace, some sort of control in a world that had taken it from me. I gave it all away just to have somewhere to go, to hide, to be myself again for however long I could. Didn't you ever want that, Darren?"

Again, nothing but ominous tick-tocking met his longing ears. He wanted nothing more than to hear even a simple sigh from the figure laying on the bed, but somehow he knew he wouldn't.

"At least now I know why I did it, why I left, though I doubt you really would have cared to hear it. I know you had been writing for months, just waiting for the moment that I would turn my back, but you already knew what I was planning. At least I was holding onto something, onto hope for our fans, onto hope that you would understand and be alright, but you severed the tie, cut me loose and let me go without a word. I don't know what hurt more, the fact that you didn't say goodbye, or the fact that you never looked back.

I guess we both did well, you and your album, I and my label, my company. Never hit the mark we left behind though, not like everyone expected us to do. I suppose that some things are just never meant to be, for whatever reason it may be. I just wish I didn't feel like there was something I missed...

I wanted to believe that I didn't care, like I could believe that I had everything that I needed, but I never really did. Reality is a harsh lesson to the world when you are stumbling deaf and blind through it on someone else's will. You know how that string feels, the one that makes it so they can pull you around, make you jump through fire if they wanted you to. Of course you know, that's how they all treated you, wasn't it? Wasn't all the glitz and glamour they thought you could produce."

He ran a shaking hand through his hair, digging the other deeply into his coat pocket. He took a deep breath, fighting to keep what little composure he had left.

"I wish I could have been there, felt alive enough to stand up for you like any other true friend would, but I didn't, I kept hiding like some little kid afraid of being beat. You had to face them on your own, you against the entire world. They all abandoned you, didn't they? And then you found out that no one is really strong unless things are playing into their hands. You went on with the shows, plastered with that fake smile that has been printed so many times. I know, I saw it one night myself, I couldn't keep myself away.

When did it go so bad, so wrong? Where was that wrong turn, Darren? When did we both stop caring so much that we became blind and dumb to everything? When did you stop fighting, and when did I start ignoring? When did we go on the decline?

By November I had lost everything, never got any news from Ben or Lee or Karl. I know Ben was busy recording, fighting to keep his band together month after month. Lee was out with you, and God knows what happened there. Karl got married, started playing for another band that's been lost to time somewhere along the line. I still wish them well, wherever they finally landed. I hope that someday I'll be able to openly communicate with them as I once was able with you.

I lost all emotion, became as close to dead as you can get I suppose. Doctors could never figure what was wrong with me, said it was all in my mind, locked away in a place to dark to venture. They all scribbled chronic depression on their little pads and shooed me on my way. Go figure that it was the same thing you were battling with. And then they said they couldn't find a connection. So much for the medical community."

He pulled a cigarette from his pocket, pausing with it in his lips and the lighter hanging loosely in his hands.

"You know, they tell me these will kill me now...But that's only if the cancer gets to me first. They never count on other things happening, never counted on your mind playing its last cards like it has, did they? You know, they didn't even bother to call me to tell me what had happened. No, I had to hear from the nine o'clock news that my best friend had tried to off himself. Were you counting on hanging on like this?"

He climbed to his feet, flicking open his lighter, giving the room a very dim glow. He bowed down close to the bed, bringing the flame over the other figures still form, up to his face. The eyes were open, but there was no shimmer, no life present. A machine dully whizzed to life on the other side of the bed, pumping oxygen into the lifeless form.

"I read all about it, never thought I'd come back here though. I learned something, about you, about me, about us, and that was that things were never better than what we first had. They said you botched your suicide, hit a less important part of your brain I suppose. I don't know why they keep you alive when they know you'll never come back, you can't come back.

This morning, I sat thinking about before, when we first started, how much it all mattered just because we didn't have much to care for. But it didn't matter at all then, all we needed was each other and we knew we could make it to the ends of the Earth. You know, if everyone cared half that much, we wouldn't have to be here."

He lit his smoke, taking a slow drag and watching the blinking lights on the machine, the only thing that was keeping him alive.

"You know mate, what we do now won't matter to anyone, because we gave everything we had at the very start. Guess they were right when they said the ones who burn bright in the beginning burn out long before their day. All I can say is that today, today is our day Darren. There's no more holding back no, nothing to be held back. I knew you before, and I know there is somewhere better waiting for us. Darren, I take back everything I said to you, to make you feel that way. I'm giving it all away, we're giving it all away just to have somewhere to go to, someone to come home to..."

He walked to the machines, stubbing out what was left of his smoke as he again fumbled around in his pocket. In the darkness, he knew everything had been planned, nothing left to mistake. His fingers closed around his mag-lite, and a small bottle of pills.

Turning on the flashlight, he balanced it on the table, staring for a moment at the syringe and bottle of clear liquid almost waiting for him. Taking a breath, he filled the needle as full as he could, almost the entire bottle before swallowing the contents of the pill bottle. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he pulled his feet up before taking one more longing glance at his companion.

"They can never say I didn't do anything again...They'll all know in the morning how much I really did care..."

He punched the needle deep in his arm, sinking the plunger as fast as he could stand. Lying down, he reached to the row of switches connected to the life-support. Turning them off, he sighed as the room went truly silent for a moment, darkness creeping in once more. He gently ran his fingers over Darren's eyelids, closing them before he turned off the flashlight, settling down. He took one last deep breath before shutting his eyes for the last time.

Only one sound remained, the steady beat of the old clock standing faithfully, darkly, in the hallway.