Two days, three hours and 21 minutes.

That’s how long it had been since Carey had officially broken up with Andy and that’s how long Andy had remained sitting in his now cold bathtub, staring at the clock. Brad had knocked and tried to check in on him, as had some of Carey’s friends he’d come to know but the door was locked and he wasn’t taking in any visitors. Not for at least another three days, twenty-one hours and a few odd minutes.

The man was is mourning, and as he mourned for his broken relationship he couldn’t help but think back and try to figure out what he’d done wrong. They’d started out shaky, but once they got the sex thing down, and the hanging out without sex thing down the pair seemed to actually be happy. Carey’s bright blue eyes would light up when they’d laugh together and Andy would always have a warm body to fall asleep next to whenever he felt like he needed it.

Yet out of the blue – out of no where – Carey had just decided their relationship was over. That their relationship had come to the point where it couldn’t go on any longer and he left Andy. Literally just turned and left after breaking it off. For the first five hours Andy thought it was just one of Carey’s little tiffs, but when he left multiple messages on his now ex-lovers phone and got no reply he knew it was real.

The reality hit him hard when he started to receive sympathy calls, which he promptly ignored. Nothing but Carey in his arms could make him happy at that moment and the man tilted his head and stared up at the ceiling after checking the time.

Two days, three hours and 24 minutes.

He’d not bothered to get out of the tub to piss, which was really rather disgusting after the first 24 hours. When he couldn’t take it anymore he’d empty out most of the tub and then refill it with warm water which also kept him from getting hypothermia, even though at that point he would have welcomed any life threatening disease.

Maybe he was over reacting, maybe he was being melodramatic but God the breakup had hurt more than he had expected it to. How was he supposed to deal with it? After almost a year together – a year of happiness his relationship was over. Andy was not the type to make shallow commitments and when he had told Carey he loved him he hadn’t been lying. He truly loved Carey and wanted to spend the rest of his life with the man.

Three days, five hours, 10 minutes.

He hadn’t eaten at all. Of course he’d felt the pangs of hunger start assaulting him after the first day but thankfully they’d tapered off the longer he hadn’t eaten. Andy had emptied the tub again, glad since he hadn’t eaten anything that all he ever had to do was piss. Now he was sitting in a bath of warm, bubbling water, his head resting back against the cold porcelain wall.

Reaching down with his eyes closed he found himself thinking about Carey; about how warm his lover had been, about them man’s warm mouth and gravelly voice. Jerking off to those very thoughts he cried out his ex-lover’s name and continued jerking himself far past the point of orgasm to the point he was sobbing because it hurt so much. Finally his mind refused to allow his hand to hurt himself in such a sensitive area and his hand just fell away.

Hot tears ran down his cheeks as Andy just sat there, eyes closed; miserable.

Five days, four hours, 43 minutes.

Now there were people banging on his door. Security had threatened to break in but when Andy called out to let them know he wasn’t dead they found they didn’t have the right to break in. His cell phone had died roughly four and a half hours ago, taking with it the numerous messages his friends had left him. Good riddance to it all; it wasn’t worth it anymore.

Five days, five hours, 2 minutes.

Andy passed out from hunger, having not slept nor ate for the past five days. The only thing he’d had was something to drink and even that wasn’t enough to sustain life so he blacked out, almost wishing death would reach out and grab him by the hair. Really at that point he didn’t even care whether he went to heaven or hell. What did it matter? He was worthless anyway.

Five days, five hours, 30 minutes.

For some strange reason he felt like he was being lifted. Then he was cold and finally the last sensation he registered was a slight sting in his arm before warmth and finally nothing. When he did wake up, six days, two hours and 12 minutes later (he’d asked the nurse exactly how long he’d been out) he found himself in the cruse liner’s hospital with an IV in his arm and a nurse by his bed side watching his every move.

He silently berated himself for not simply having the will to take his own life and then made it his goal to try.

At six days, five hours and 23 minutes they had him strapped down so he couldn’t move until he promised roughly a half an hour later that he wouldn’t try to hurt himself anymore and he followed through. At day seven exactly (since Carey had broken up with him, I might add) the man cried harder than he had ever cried before and then for another three hours just lay there and stared blankly at the ceiling. People came and went yet he didn’t seem to honestly recognize anyone. They were all just blurs. Faces he didn’t recognize – couldn’t recognize.

Yet he knew none of them were Carey.