#i can already see myself crying hyperventilating about how bad i failed at making these extras.......

[daz4i]

oh yeah baby we're doing it we're making it happen (started a google doc for planning a certain cosplay) (i literally haven't done cosplay since 2018) (i have also never been this organized about it) (this is also the most detailed thing i ever tried to make. so.) (god damnit)

[thearchivistsjournal]

Day 202,

Author's Note/Content Warning: Another heavy entry. Stream-of-consciousness depiction of a panic attack following waking up from a nightmare, implication of accidentally hitting someone while flailing unconscious/waking up, and fears of potentially traumatizing a child.

We just came back down from Siren Overlook, Cass and I.  We both needed it, I think.  Me because of last night being exceptionally bad and her because… well, I can’t speak for what all her stresses are but I’m pretty sure I added to them this morning.

As was all too often the case back when I hadn’t yet disciplined myself into (mostly) getting up early enough to have the classroom ready for children, I was still asleep when Cass arrived to unlock the archive.  According to her, she could hear me from halfway across the archive and when she found me I was crying out and thrashing around in bed with my sheets all thrown to the ground.  

The first thing I remember upon waking this morning is her grabbing me and shaking me awake.  She’d uncovered all the lights in the room before doing so and it felt blindingly bright.  I think I gave one last shout as I came to before it devolved into something like a sob.  The pain I’d felt in the nightmare was gone but it was taking time for my mind to catch up to that.  I tried to curl in on myself but she was in the way of my arms so they wound up wrapping around her instead.

She was saying something in my ear but I couldn’t understand it.  Only that it was loud.

So loud.

Softer now.

Still can’t understand.

Can’t focus.  Too busy fighting the panic.

Trying to convince myself I’m not dying.

My lungs aren’t failing and my throat’s not closing shut.  That’s just stress and fear making me hyperventilate and my throat tighten.

Need to slow down that breathing so I don’t make myself pass out.  Don’t send myself back to that place.

Can hyperventilation even do that?  Not sure.  Not going to find out.  Don’t think about that, just focus on slowing down.

I’m a little sore, yes, but it’s not the pain from that place.  That’s gone now.  Nothing like that.  My body isn’t broken.  See, my arms are straight and my fingers bend.  Curl my fingers.  Curl my toes.

Tense and release.

Tense.

And release.

But my head.  Just bumped it on the wall thrashing around.  It’s not fractured.  I’m not bleeding internally.  I didn’t give myself brain damage.  There probably won’t even be a bruise later.  Stop touching it to see if the skull’s shattered there.  It’s not.  Touching it over and over again will just keep it sore longer.  So stop already.

Cass is still saying something.  What is it?

Focus.

Close your eyes.  It’s okay.  You won’t go back there.

Good.

Breathe in.

No thoughts.

Breathe out.

Again.

Breathe in.

Clear everything out.

Focus on the here and now.

Let everything else fall away.

Breathe out.

Still now.

Open your eyes.

What’s she saying?

Repeating something.

“It’s gonna be okay.”

Over and over.

Like a mantra.

It’s gonna be okay.

She’s trembling.  Voice and body.  Can tell now that you’ve mostly stopped.

I’ve scared her.  I’m scaring her.

So make her feel better.

Tighten embrace.  Proper hug.

“Thanks.”

Relax grip.  Pat back.

“I’m okay now.”

Extend arms.  Give her space.  Distance.

See one another’s faces.

Her eyes are wide.

You’re the adult here.  Show confidence.  Stability.

Smile.  Keep it small.  Don’t look manic.  Reassuring.

“How about you?”

She nods.

Says of course she is, why wouldn’t she be.

Release.

Let her stand up straight instead of leaning over the bed to get to you.

Thank her again.

Start to stand up.

Too quick.  Dizzy.  Catch yourself.  There you go.

You’re fine.

Tell her that.

Wait, is that spot on her face red?

Did I hit her?

Ask her.

She says she doesn’t know what you’re talking about.  That it must just be the lighting.

Nice of her to say that.  I’m a monster.

No you're not.  If - IF - anything happened you weren’t even conscious for it.  Hardly culpable.

Silence has gone on too long.

Look abashed.  Make a comment about needing to change clothes.

Thank her again on her way out.

Alone again.

Still breathing harder and faster than normal.  But better.

Close your eyes one more time.  Breathe in.  Put last night out of mind.  Breathe out.  Open them.  Get dressed.  Step outside.  Find Cass.  Apologize for all that.  See that she’s still shook but trying to hide it.  Suggest a trip out to Siren Overlook before we get on with our day.

…

Why did I just do that to myself?  Cast my mind back to relive just a couple hours ago right after I’d started to feel better too.  Lose myself in a stream of consciousness frenziedly transcribing how I’ve chosen to remember the pain of waking.

You I know why, of course.  Part of it’s because I can’t bring myself to talk to anyone about it so this is the next best thing for processing and closure.  But the bigger part is I’m procrastinating.  Putting off doing actual work today.  Putting off talking to Pat.  Putting off describing last night’s nightmare of the Catacomb Depths.

Putting off thinking about what to do with Cass.

This isn’t the first time something like this has happened in front of her.  Maybe the worst, but not the first.  I worry I’m traumatizing the child just by being around her.  How long before she starts having a constant background stress of wondering if any given moment might be the one I break again?  Assuming she’s not there already.

The other day James brought up that we needed to talk about Cass’s schedule for dividing apprenticeship and helping with the farm in this dry season we’re heading into.  Maybe I should suggest that she take a break from the archive altogether.  At least for the season.  Until I get my head straight again.

I know the point of the apprenticeship is to teach her hard work, responsibility, and general adult-ness, and that’s why I’ve not felt worse about leaning on her as much as I do for the archival and teaching work.  But this?  That is not what this is.  There’s a difference between teaching someone a trade and relying on them to do their job versus putting a child in a position where they feel like they need to emotionally support an adult with their personal problems.

At the same time though, it doesn’t feel right to just go over Cass’s head straight to James and not give her a say in things.  Talk with her about it first?  Include her in the conversation maybe?

I don’t know.  Maybe I’ll talk to Pat or someone about it.

Tomorrow though.  Too tired for that kind of thing now.  For today, actual archive work.  The sort that I’ve been letting leaving Cass to do on her own while I write all this.

Time to go see if she’s found any books yet in need of repair/re-transcribing after wet season damp (or just straight up getting dropped in puddles).

<==Previous          Next==>

[fanfictiondreamscape]

“It’s Just the Internet.”

Request: would you write a yuri pliset. imagine where his f!SO (streamer maybe) and he found her in a bad state (nothing physical mostly emotional) and he comforts her? 

Title: “It’s Just the Internet.”

Genre: mostly angst - i can’t lie, a tiny portion of fluff, and a large amount of comfort

Pairing: Yuri Plisetsky x Fem!Reader

Notes: I’ve got more for you all! I think I’ve noticed a pattern amongst what you guys like from me, too, lol. Anyway, I tried to use what most streamers (and general internet personas) deal with from people on the internet - hate, stress, lack of privacy (as nasty as all of these are in everyday life). 

With that said, I will put a disclaimer here for anybody that feels uncomfortable with the aforementioned: This imagine deals with tense topics such as online bullying, unsavory body image, and chronic stress along with burnout. If you don’t feel comfortable reading about these things, I advise you now to read something else or proceed with caution. 

I feel like I should also mention that this semi-struck a chord with me, and it would have been great to have someone beside me in the moment, so part of this may be me projecting - either way, I hope you enjoy it! 

Below the cut! 

‘omg, her hair. who’s gonna tell her’

‘i hate her voice, its too high like..why does she even stream.’

‘honestly, who decided to give her a platform? her personality sucks.’

Suck it in, suck it up, and start the stream.

‘OMG. SHUT UP. YOU ARE A TERRIBLE GAMER. QUIT YOUR DAY JOB ALREADY.’

‘Why tf is your hair so greasy? we get it, you’re a horrible person, you don’t have to have horrible hygiene.’

Suck it in, suck it up, and start the stream. 

Suck it in, suck it up, and start the stream. 

Suck it in.

‘lose some weight, you fat cow.’

Suck it up. 

‘why are you so lazy, get up already.’

Start the stream. 

I pressed the button after preparing my smile for the umpteenth time in the hour, and while I would have liked to cut the stream at all today, I can’t disappoint my fans. The ones that stay for the content, at least. 

I let my internal timer go off before I flipped the screen image to my face. 

“Hey, everyone!”

And so we begin. 

The many ticking seconds, minutes, and eventually hours invaded my head - but I couldn’t crack. I can’t give them the satisfaction of seeing what up and coming nasty comment can do to my psyche. I can’t let them think they can win. 

Still, I can barely function with their words haunting me. 

The stream ended after almost four hours, and as I sent my goodbye to the viewers, I could feel my chest start to tighten and my eyes start to burn. My heart was beating at what felt like a million miles per hour, my whole body was trembling, and I could swear that I was about to pass out. 

I slid the chair I was in back from my desk and ran to the bathroom. Considering the time I started the stream and the time now, it had to be around 3 or 4 pm. With that in mind, more people would be flocking to the highlights or my personal Instagram. If they were going to flock over, then there is bound to be more from them.

I’m never gonna get past this, am I? 

Tears were streaming down my face, hot and haunting. I was, quite literally, a mess on the bathroom floor. I had gone through what I could manage in regards to tissues, but as it got harder to maintain my balance, I cradled myself in my arms and curled into a ball. 

I was beginning to hyperventilate, so I forced myself to take deep breaths. I have no idea how long it took, but as my breath slowed down and I stopped crying. I was still in a ball, but I had loosened up a little bit and decided to distract myself with some work. 

I hesitantly stood up, stumbling on my legs for a second, and wiped my tear-stained cheeks. With a sigh and a sniffle, I shuffled to my office again and opened up my editing software. 

Even if people don’t like me, the people that do deserve something done well to make up for where I fail to do well. I may not be a very good gamer, but I will flex my editing skills and do what I can with what footage I have. 

I quickly got to work, and though I got caught off guard by my performance in the recorded footage, I pushed through and slammed a zoom-in during a pause right before I ended up throwing my headphones onto my desk. I wasn’t doing well at all during the gameplay, but I have to try and make it seem like I did well. 

Time seemed to pass by quicker when I wasn’t focusing on anything else except what makes my day better - a cup of coffee, editing software, and lo-fi music in the background. 

That was, until I had to upload the next video on the queue. It was an indie horror game, and knowing how scared I can get, I was already anticipating what was going to come up in the comments. I didn’t want to fathom it, but my mind races sometimes...

‘scared? no wonder you suck at horror games, you’re already trash at regular games.’

‘OMG YOURE SO BAD AT THISSS HAHAAA QUIT YOUR DAMN JOB LOSER’

‘Dear god, you suck. How did you even manage to make it that far in the game?’

My breath was gonna get caught again, I could tell. I considered postponing the upload to tomorrow, but again - the fans that actually did care looked forward to this. 

Or did they just watch to get their kicks and the good comments are ironic? 

No, no, no, no, no - dammit, no! They mean it, they really mean it, they love to watch you - upload the video!

I almost pressed the upload button, but I stopped myself as my index finger was just a second away from clicking. I can’t do it today, I really can’t, seriously. If I end up doing this, I’m only gonna hole myself up more. If I do that, then my content is gonna much more horrid than it already is, and if that happens- 

“Babe, I’m home!” 

Time stopped, and only then was I aware of how shaken I was. Trembling, sweating, and my eyes were getting glassy again. Of course, it had to happen again. 

“Babe, are you in your - (Y/N), baby? What is it?”

Yurio saw me. He saw me. This is the one thing that would, could, and should have been avoided. Now he’s gonna freak out, and knowing his anger, go off on social media and start up a shitstorm. 

“(Y/N), look at me. (Y/N).”

I felt his nimble fingers lightly brush my shoulder. He had made contact with the chair I was seated in and turned it around, making eye contact with me before I directed my eyes down. “...What is it, Yuri?”

He glared at me before kneeling and, yet again, making eye contact with me. “What’s going on, darling?”

I sniffled and he waited, quiet and patient, as I slowly cracked. More tears fell down my face, I curled into myself even more, and my hands started trembling violently. Yurio’s eyes went wide and he grasped my hands in his as quickly as he could. 

“Darling, come on. Come here, don’t talk, okay? We can lay down on the bed, and you can relax, okay?” His blue-green eyes were focused on my face. “You can tell me later if you want, but right now, you need to take a break.” 

He guided me from my spot and moved with me despite how slow and sluggish I was. Short, sweet, reassuring words were uttered into my ears breathlessly yet urgent as we both made it to our shared room. 

The blankets felt like clouds when I laid down on them, yet I failed to focus on the comfort and instead focus on holding onto Yurio’s form. It was just muscular enough to provide comfort even if he was very thin. 

I shuffled into his chest, the both of us being splayed out on the bed as gently as possible. Little jostling around followed after we were settled. 

Yurio wrapped his arms around my body and started rubbing my back - it would be romantic had I not been a bawling mess, but I will take what I can since I need the comfort right now (as much as I may hate to admit it). 

“(Y/N), darling, I’m right here. I’ll always be here. Now, please, get some rest,” he pleaded, voice soft yet commanding. I sniffled once again and nodded, continuing to get closer to the blonde. 

I stopped crying eventually, but I wasn’t quite able to tell how long it had been. All I can recall is finishing my crying session and falling asleep. 

The faded light of the sun peeking through the transparent curtains shook me from my slumber, and upon feeling the other side of the bed empty, I became fully awake. 

“Yurio?” I lifted my tired body from the sheets and left the bed, leaving the room to find him. A large yawn overtook me before I started to search the house. 

I had been through the living area, the workout/dance room in the basement, and the bathrooms on all three floors before I found him. He was standing in the backyard, seemingly having just left the kitchen, and we shouting into his cell. He was most definitely livid.

I sighed, proceeding to take a deep breath before turning around and reaching for the refrigerator. If there was water anywhere, I’d love to find it, especially after last night. 

My mood dropped at the thought of it, but before I could dwell on it any longer, I heard a door slam and Yurio walk in while muttering profanities under his breath. He slammed his phone on the kitchen island before sighing and resting his elbows on the marble. 

I paused my movement, looking over my shoulder at him. “What’s going on with you today, huh?”

Yurio clicked his tongue, turning from the island and facing me. He was still a little bitter, but he visibly softened up a little bit when he met my eyes. “It’s nothing, just some publicity bullshit that I’m trying to work out.”

I raised an eyebrow, smirking just the slightest before shaking my head. “So that’s why you were in such a tizzy, huh?” I inquired, watching as he rolled his eyes and slinked towards me. He had me corner against the fridge as I maintained my eye contact. 

He kept his gaze focused on the cell in his hand, keeping a white-knuckle grip on the device. “I guess, yeah. I do need to ask you something, though,” he started. It made me nervous, but I decided to humor him. 

“Well, why the warning? Fire away.” 

“Is everything alright?” 

I hummed, shrugging and moving away from the appliance I had been leaning on. “Yeah, everything’s fine. Why? You worried?” 

Silence invaded the kitchen for a few seconds before Yurio pouted and grunted, turning away and murmuring, “Maybe....” I chuckled a little before reaching for the cupboard with mugs in it. 

My wrist was gently grabbed before I could get a hold of my favorite (Movie) mug. “Why don’t we go out for breakfast today? Practice was cancelled today and we haven’t spent much time together recently.”

If it were possible, I could swear that my eyes were sparkling. “Do you care where we go?”

“I was thinking (Your/Favorite/Breakfast/Place), since I know you love it.” He was trying so hard to be nonchalant, but he still gets flustered even years later. Cute!

“Yes!” was my enthusiastic response. “I’ll start getting ready if you’re down to leave in about fifteen minutes!” 

A smirk graced his features, and he gave a nod. I ran upstairs and started getting into what I felt comfortable wearing. 

He entered the room once I was done and threw a sweatshirt on - still with his oh-so-favorite leopard print on the panels - and held a nimble hand out for me. I held it, and we left for food. 

Breakfast went pretty well, but I had to stream again tonight. Three nights a week, sometimes a fourth when needed. Shit. 

We were almost home when the thought finally dawned on me. And this time. Yurio would be home the whole time. My eyes went wide at the thought, and had it not been for his grip on my hand, I would have absolutely broken. Again. 

“Hey, I was thinking about tonight. You have another stream scheduled, right?” 

“Huh? Oh, uh, yeah. Why’re you asking?” I inquired, looking at his eyes as they focused on the street signs. He never really asks, so this was odd to say the least. 

Clearing his throat, he suggested something that he’s never really suggested before. “Well, you got that new racing game, right? Why don’t we play together. 1 v. 1, boyfriend v. girlfriend?” 

That...actually didn’t sound half bad. Nobody really knew that we had been dating except for a select few people, and we had both been considering announcing it sometime, so this might be the best time. It may also be better for me mentally. 

But he’d still see the comments. 

That can’t happen. If it happens, I’m gonna get interrogated and Yurio’s gonna go ballistic on Twitter. If that happens, more hate is gonna come in and he’s gonna have so much bull to deal with from his manager. And that’s gonna fade into my streams, and then the comments will get even worse- 

“Babe? Hey, earth to (Y/n). Are you still in there?” 

I blinked a couple times, sniffling a bitt and nodding. “Yeah, yeah, I’m still here. And that sounds great! I’ll let you know when it starts, and get it set up.” 

He nodded, and we continued on our way to our home. When we arrived, I went to my office/game room and he went to the gym area in the basement (with the both of us announcing what we were doing, of course). 

I went to editing the stream from last night, cutting out what needed to be and editing what needed to be before finishing around two in the afternoon. I started to upload and went to getting the gaming setup prepared for tonight. 

My mind was still flooded with thoughts of what could happen tonight. So much could go wrong, in theory, but so much could go right, as well. People might lay off, but then again, it’s the internet - it couldn’t be helped, what with the utter chaos than can be released when someone decides to release it. 

I sighed, running my hands through my hair. The only two options that I have at the moment are to cancel the stream last minute and wait until tomorrow or go through with the stream and risk him noticing. Either way, Yuri would be suspicious and the people that actually care to watch my streams for myself and not to trash me would be disappointed. 

Damn decisions...just had to do this, didn’t you? 

With a deep breath in, I had finally decided to go through with the stream. Mods have tried to get people kicked and banned from the server, so I’m just gonna have to rely on them unless I want to cut it early when it gets too harsh. Anything yo make sure that Yuri doesn’t see it. 

I finished getting everything set up after I took a short breather, making sure that my sweatshirt and makeup were alright. I made sure to take extra time for it since Yuri was joining the stream and I wanted to avoid any of the comments as best as possible. Everything seemed to be in place, now all I needed to do was make sure that the video uploaded and the streaming screen was prepared. 

I checked the upload process and let it sit for a little while before opening Twitch and getting the recording program setup. Once that was done, I grabbed my usual controller and one for Yuri and laid them on my desk before leaving to grab a soda and relax for a bit until then - as best as I could, rather. 

With the can of (soda) in my hand, I stayed still by the fridge and continued thinking. I’d think it’d be a good idea to warn my mods and advise them to pay even closer attention, but as quickly as they move, there’s still Twitter and Instagram, even my channel uploads on YouTube. 

“Ugh, damn...this isn’t good....” Groaning, I turned away from the counter in front of me and looked at the mounted clock by the door. It was almost time to start the stream, meaning around a half hour beforehand. Great. 

Shaking my head, I tightened the grip I had on my soda. It was almost white-knuckle, but that was fine - it was a perfect parallel to my running thoughts right now. 

“You have to do it, the mods got it. They can keep it under control. That’s a fact. That’s the fact of the matter.”

“(Y/n), is everything alright?” 

Yuri shouting shook me from my stupor - seriously wish I could avoid it - and his footsteps made me turn to the doorway to the living area. “You’ve been in here a while.”

“Ah, yeah - I’m fine. The stream’s gonna start soon, so if you wanted to run through the setup with me, we can do it now,” came an offer from my mouth. Distractions, distractions, I suppose....

“If that would calm you down. You’re starting to strangle that can, there,” he stated - the beverage was beginning to flood the top. He was right, I really needed to loosen my grip. 

“Shit! Um, yeah, thanks. Let’s-let’s head up there now, then.” 

The two of us trailed beside each other as we walked up the steps, him and I glancing at the other as we did so. Sometimes, though extremely short, we’d look at the photos framed on the wall. Some were even pics with Victor and Yuuri, a few being in Russia despite them living in Japan. 

It only took a good thirty seconds to get to my setup and get settled. I gave a general rundown of the console, not like Yuri needed it considering we would play games with each other on both of our off days, but the rundown of the stream came to be a little more difficult. 

“So, the waiting screen will pop up....”

A nod and understanding look. 

“And a timer will be set up on said screen.”

“Mhm, yeah.”

“When that counts down, I’ll open and introduce myself again, and then you, followed by the game that we’ll be playing.” 

“Got it.”

“While waiting, though,” I hesitated. I was going to tell him about the deal with the comments, but on second thought, I probably shouldn’t- 

“’While waiting’ what? Is there something else I should be aware of?” came the questioning from the blonde sat in my spare chair. 

I cleared my throat, rubbed my hands together, and straightened my back up. “While waiting, comments will come up from the chat. Anything that isn’t permitted on my channel, though, gets deleted and the commenter gets monitored.” 

He nodded, staring at me. It seemed almost skeptical.

“So, please try to ignore them as best as you can. The mods have it under control, I promise,” I finished. He straightened his posture, his slightly taller frame engulfing mine in a hug. I tensed up a little bit - this didn’t happen often. 

“Got it, darling. Are we ready to start?” He pulled from the hug, gesturing to the setup with his head. I gulped, nodded, turned on some music, and began the stream.

The waiting screen came up, the music in the back ground playing on the video recording, and I finalized the set up.  I already spotted a few hate comments pop up, but they were quickly deleted. The mods were really on their game already. Which meant that I had to take the oh-so common deep breath and begin.

After about fifteen minutes of making sure that people were coming in and that we had everything we needed for the stream itself, I turned the music down and the video on. 

“Hey, hey, hey, everyone! Sorry about that wait, just had to make sure that everything was ready,” I began, shrugging and trying to match the upbeat demeanor that I tried to maintain for the crowd. “But, today, I have a guest with me! Does anybody know about figure skating? Well, I have my, um -” I choked a little on my words “- my boyfriend, Yuri Plisetsky.” 

He popped up on the screen behind me, and I knew now that things were out of my control. 

The chat flooded with shock - this was the first time that I had announced that I was dating someone, much less world-renowned figure skater Yuri Plisetsky. This was to be expected. With the shock, though, came the common hate comments. 

They came in quicker than usual, and as much as the mods tried to keep them down and deleted, a fair amount were still left as more and more chats came. 

‘why is HE with a dumb bitch like HER. he can do so much better.’

‘How much does anyone wanna bet that she bribed him into joining the stream for clout?’

‘desperation can be really awful, huh’

I almost cried, but I choked them back and continued as he introduced himself.

“Well, with that taken care of,” cue the nudge from him as he sat in the seat beside me, “we were gonna play racing games - particularly Mario Kart.” 

I skimmed the chat to see some people making exclamations about the games. 

“I’ll win. I always do,” Yuri said. It was cocky, which was normal. I laughed, loudly.

“Nope. Remember last time? That was sweet.” 

“Hey! You pushed me off the couch and I dropped the controller, cheater!”

And so we began. 

Choosing characters, maps, and actually playing rounds upon rounds upon rounds was fun. For a moment, I wasn’t worried about what people were saying as I was so focused on beating him. 

It wasn’t until I fell off the ramp right before I was about to turn for the final lap, and landed in 6th place that I noticed the chat. 

‘she even sucks at playing this. loser.’

‘DUDE DUMP HER AND GET SOMEONE WHO ISNT SO AWFUL. GET OFF THE INTERNET ALREADY TOO YUO GREASY FREAK’

I could feel my heart start to race. Still, I pushed through. Made my voice higher and more performative, stiffened my shoulders and acted through it. 

All the while, Yurio was laughing. It made sense, and I know that this is only a normal occurrence - hell, I do it to him, too - but it left me a little uneasy. There was a sense of almost saccharine familiarity to it, though, and that let me calm down a little bit.

“What the hell are you laughing for, huh? This same thing happened to you last time, big shot.”

“Yeah, sure - I still won,” he snarked. I rolled my eyes and set up for the next round.

The comments continued to flood in as we played more and more rounds, coming close to placing extreme bets just to make sure that either one of us could get the upper hand. We didn’t, but the good side of the chat got a luagh out of that. 

All the while, instead of the usual hate comments, they only escalated.

‘you fucking suck, kys now and save the ice tiger the burden.’

‘DIE ALREADY YOU STUPID SLUT!’

‘dont just delete oyur account, delete your loife you fucking clout chaser.’

Tears were gonna come, I knew it. They had never gotten to this point before, and holy shit, did it hurt. It hurt bad. Even worse than usual. 

I caved in the middle of the match before deciding to slam Yurio in the side and glare. We both knew what that cue meant, whether or not it was anger or something else. 

He almost stared into my soul when he saw my eyes getting glassy. I leaned in to his ear and whispered, “I’m gonna be a few minutes, okay? I’ll be right back. Please let the chat know.”

And with that, I pushed my chair back and shuffled out of the room and back to the bathroom to wear out my panic attack. I didn’t want to know what was being said, but this wasn’t the first time that I had to leave during streams - sometimes it was for a drink or food, others to use the bathroom. Either way, I’m still at a loss - I’m still a target. 

I went back in to a semi-silent chat and a Yurio who was scrolling through his phone and checking the chat, responding accordingly. I don’t know if he saw any comments, but whatever - I’m cutting the stream short anyway and handing this off to a friend to edit. 

I can’t watch this, but I can tell that there will be some pretty good highlights. 

I went to bed that night shaking, after having told Yurio he could crash and sending the saved file to said friend. 

Nightmares plagued me that night. Ideas of Yuri leaving me for someone better, fans reaching through the screen and reaching for my neck, even some chasing me down and cornering me enough to point, laugh, and injure me excessively. 

It was awful. 

It wasn’t until I went to check my Twitter DMs to clear them that something caught my eye. 

@(y/n)sbae: @YuriPlisetsky on @y/ngamestreams ‘s stream last night went off on the chat  - he already proving the he deserves her. 

A video was linked in the tweet itself, and out of curiosity - what did he do when I was out of the room? - I clicked it. 

“Okay, (Y/n) is going to be gone for a few minutes. Not like a good portion of you would care, either way.”

Yuri was glaring at the chat that was coming up, even scoffing at some of the messages being sent in. 

‘good, the bitch is gone. you deserve better man.’ 

‘DUMP THE WHORE. DUMP THE WHORE.’

“To every person in the chat having enough time in their sorry lives to torture the woman that I love, I hope you rot. She doesn’t put herself through this hell almost seven days a week just for you lowlifes to put her down even more.

“And if you must say anything, prepare for me to come for your throat. I love her, and I’m not afraid to fall to protect her if need be.

“That said, get a pastime already. If you think she’s pathetic, you losers are leagues worse. Get a hobby, for fucks sake already - sending in comments for no reason other than to send in comments isn’t attractive, like babies like you seem to think you are.”

He got up close to the screen, face almost taking up the whole screen. 

“And finally, fuck you.”

He rounded his rant off with two middle fingers. 

My eyes went wide, but seeing the rest of the chat cheering him on made me feel much better.

‘Get it, man! fuck you haters!’

‘(your/ship/name) ftw’

‘you two really are meant for each other, it’s so cute!’

‘you two are great inspirations, really - and this is so sweet!’

I didn’t realize it until I saw a drop of liquid on my screen - I was crying. But it wasn’t the kind I was getting used to, no. It was happy tears. 

For the first time in a while, the tears I was crying weren’t from pain, or anxiety, or even fear - no. They were happy. And I was actually relieved. 

I dropped my phone on the nearest surface and ran to find Yurio, managing to almost trip over my feet and table legs to eventually reach him in the living room. A movie of some kind was playing - I could really care less what it was, my mind is elsewhere - but I dove for the couch and tackled him into a hug.

I was still crying, even getting his clothing wet, but he returned the gesture - albeit in a confused manner, even slightly worried. 

“What is this about, babe? Is something wrong?” Panic was laced in his tone, of course, but I broke away to look him in the eyes (as best as I could considering I was still sobbing). 

“Nothing’s wrong, Yuri. I just saw what you did on the stream last night when I was out,” I sputtered through deep breaths and sniffles. It was hard to talk, honestly, but he got the message. 

“Why didn’t you tell me about that? I could have handled it earlier, y’know?” The question was blunt, but I could tell that he was preoccupied with the comments.  I shuffled around and laid on his chest before taking a deep breath and calming down a little. 

“Gee, thanks - but if you really want to know, I didn’t want to worry you. They weren’t bad in the beginning, but after a couple months ago, they got so much worse....”

He sighed, putting a hand on my head and patting it gently. “Really, this could have been shut down, or I could have helped you...you really scared me, (Y/n).”

I curled into him more, smiling into his chest. “But you shut it down, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, yeah - now get some rest, okay? I’ve got some games that I want to play on stream with you again tonight.” 

BONUS

The next day, after the stream had gone by (nearly) without a hitch and Twitter was updated accordingly - simply for the purpose of officially announcing that Yuri and I were dating and providing updates regarding the next upload.

Otherwise, it had taken some time for the aftermath to completely come to an end. The comments had come to an end, at least as best as they could, and it was later brought to my attention from yet another intriguing tag on a private account that I knew through Yuri. 

@russianiceprince12: you’re very welcome @y/ngamestreams & @icetigerofrussia for the warning 

Of course, Victor put him to the test. Why am I not surprised? 

[sideblogformindtrash]

CW: Physical abuse, implied nocon, deshumanization, pet/slave whumpee, conditioning, whipping, hair(?), trauma, family argument, beating, shouting, anxiety, lots of crying, oc stuff Same as: one, two and three and four, order doesn’t matter, I should title stuff maybe. 

He sobbed.

Grand Master wanted him to sing, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t. He was trying with all he had, but his voice broke and faded into a squeak. Grand Master was getting impatient now. He always enjoy to hear him sing… His little bird.

He didn’t want to fail now. Grand Master was almost never around, but he was patient, had well defined rules and punishments, and liked to hear him. Instead, most of the times he stayed with his son, Young Master, who hardly let him speak, let alone sing.

And unlike his father, Young Master was always angry. He couldn’t recall a time where they were together and he wasn’t being hurt or used somehow, regardless of his behavior. But until this point he was still… Managing it somehow. He was doing the best he could. When was it that he truly broke? He shivered, just by remembering the last real bad punishment.

…And was startled back into reality by a slap that set his cheeks on fire. Grand Master was reclined over him, eyes cold as ice.

“…SING. Do it. Don’t make me ask again.”

He shivered, and took all his strength not to move now.

Breathe. Breathe.

Breathe.

You can do this.

But he couldn’t.

“a-A-“ And the voice broke down on a sob, as he let himself fall to Grand Master’s feet. “-C-Ca’nt”

Useless. Completely, utterly useless. Grand Master frowned. He couldn’t hold this tear anymore. He didn’t know the punishment for that but imagined it wasn’t good.

Master grabbed his hair and pulled him out of the room. He couldn’t keep pace, so was dragged through the hallways. His voice betrayed him so badly he couldn’t even plead anymore.

Where was he being taken? The basement to be tortured? Maybe locked in the cellar, with the spiders and the dark? Or would Master do something in front of the servants? Maybe somewhere else entirely, there were just too many dangerous little corners on the huge mansion.

Instead, he was taken to Young Master’s bedroom, and he almost wished it was the basement instead. He barged him, and Young Master jumped to his feet, startled.

“What the fuck-“

“Shut up.” Master shouted louder, throwing him to the center of the room, where he fell to his knees. He saw the look on Young Master’s face… He was above everyone else except Grand Master. He had to listen to whatever his father wanted to say and that angered him to his core. Anger that later would be taken out on him.

He sobbed, putting his forehead on the rug. He didn’t want to see it. He wanted so bad to cover his ears and not hear the fight, but he couldn’t, it would be so, so disrespectful and he was already on trouble.

“Yes, father?” He put on the polite façade.

“You ruined him” Grand Master started, burning eyes to the slave on the floor “...The only thing I liked about him was his voiced. I’ve let you do anything you wanted to him, despite how fucking irresponsible you have been. I’ve warned you so many times that you needed to be more careful, but you just can’t listen can you?”

“…He is just faking it” Young Master said, annoyed “I haven’t done anything that would screw with his voice”.

Grand Master rolled his eyes, teeth showing.

“He is not faking it, he is just broken.” He sounded disappointed “You terrified the poor thing so much he can’t even speak.”

“Oh come on. Why don’t you show him a taste of a whip? I’m sure he will sing in no time… Won’t you pet?”

He shivered. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t breathe.

“He has been here for a while” Grand Master was getting angrier “And he was very well trained even before. I made sure, because I wanted to give you a pet that wouldn’t cause you much trouble. He wouldn’t just deny an order like that.”

“Really, Father…? You believe him over me?”

“Any fucking day” His father spat. Young Master chuckled and rolled his eyes just to annoy him more.

“Anyway…isn’t he supposed to be my toy? I can do what I want to him.”

“Hell, what if I had guests over? Can you imagine I’d show him like this? Make a fool of myself”  Grand Master grabbed his hair again, pulling him upwards by the hair. “An expensive toy. How in the hells are you expecting to take care of my business if you can’t even look after your own dog? You know how many times I had the maids report they found him half dead on corners of the house and had to call the doctors? You can’t even be bothered to patch him up afterwards.”

He started hyperventilating, sobbing loudly. Normally he would have to hide this, but now it didn’t even matter. The storm was raging around him, and it was merciless and uncaring. Grand Master grabbed the shirt he was wearing, ripping it off his body… Hardly a patch of unscarred skin, lots of bruises and bite marks, still fresh.

“You know how hard it was to find one with natural white hair? Let alone one that could sing” Grand Master sighed, as if just trying to calm down. But this wasn’t over yet. “Listen, I knew you would play with him, test the whips, or maybe beat him out of stress. But you wrecked him. He looks like a fucking rag doll and I know he didn’t give you reason for it. Did you dog?”

A light kick to his ribs.

“I- M—a” he couldn’t. Voice dies down, every answer is a wrong one.

“…He can’t even speak anymore.” Grand Master spoke seemingly to himself before turning back to his son, fire in his eyes “I’m taking him away. You don’t deserve a toy like this until you show some fucking responsibility.

“Excuse me?”

“This discussion is over.”

Grand Master grabbed his arm this time, but still dragged him out. They kept shouting to each other, about past incidents, so much it was hard to even keep track.

He was dragged back to Grand Master’s chambers, and carelessly thrown on the ground where he kneeled, as Master sat on the Armchair, deep in thought.

Breathe. Breathe. He had to stop crying now.

“…What am I going to do with you now, little bird?”

“A-M-as-t…” He couldn’t.

“Honestly I can’t even put you back on the market. It would be like selling a broken product, and I’d rather not get know for that. And if you can’t sing, I don’t have a reason to keep you, I have plenty of servants to clean and cook” Master saw the fear on his eyes “Don’t worry, I think it would be a shame to just… end you. And it’s not like you would be any less useless on a work field.”

Master reclined on the chair and pet him. A gentle touch, finally. How long had it been? It seemed that this day lasted forever.

“My son is spoiled rotten. I realized it a bit too late. I know you tried your best, pet.” He can’t say anything. Silent tears run down his cheeks. “Stay on my chambers for now. I’ll figure something else for you.”

[full-of-roman-angst-trash]

Blind and Naive

(You are here) (Part 2) (Part 3)

TW: Unsympathetic Virgil, Abusive Virgil, Unsympathetic Patton, Unsympathetic Logan? (Not really), Abused Roman, Toxic Prinxiety, Abusive Relationship, Verbal Abuse, Emotional Abuse, Fighting, Dismissal of Feelings, Cursing, Manipulation, Belittling, Gaslighting, Guilt-tripping, Body Shaming, Self-Harm, Self-Doubt, Anorexia, Self-Deprecation, Negative Body Image, Roman lashes out at Janus, and A LOT of Roman angst

If I missed any, please tell me and I will add it.

Word count: 3970

____

“Will you be my boyfriend?”

The question rings in my ears and I feel my brain desperately trying to think of an answer.

I know I don’t like Virgil, at least not in a romantic sense. But at the same time, I know that if we start dating, most of the fandom will be ecstatic. We are one of the most popular ships in the fandom after all.

Come on Roman, give the fans what they want. How do you expect to be the favorite if you can’t satisfy them or please them because of a selfish reason? And either way, what can go wrong? Maybe you might even fall for Virgil eventually.

I take a deep breath and nod, putting on an excited smile, “Yes!”

____

It had all started okay. We had announced our relationship to the fandom and most of them were happy! Of course, there were the few that didn’t like our relationship and those who were indifferent but that was fine. I even started to grow feelings for Virgil!

Everything was fine…

But then… Something… 

Changed...

____

“Roman! You promised we were going to have a movie night today!”

I look down, the guilt in my chest growing more and more with every second that passes.

“I know... But I really need to finish this script… I’m so sorry Virgil… I promise I will make it up to you...!” My voice is hushed and weak

Suddenly, he starts to cry and I feel my heart sink.

“YOU PROMISED ROMAN! YOU CARE MORE ABOUT A DUMB SCRIPT THAN ABOUT YOUR BOYFRIEND!?” His voice is shaky and filled with hurt.

“No, no, no! T-that’s not it! I promise! I-I j-just-”

He cuts me off with a sharp slap that makes my cheek sting and ache. 

“IF YOU’RE NOT GOING TO HANG OUT WITH ME AND TREAT ME RIGHT THEN MAYBE WE SHOULD BREAK UP!” He starts crying harder before looking away from me.

I feel tears begin to prick my eyes and my body begin to shake.

“I-I’m s-sorry! P-please d-don’t leave me!”

Please...! I don’t want the fandom to hate me even more...! I don’t want dad to get mad at me...! I don’t want to be alone again...! I d-don’t want to lose you...!

Despite my best efforts, I feel the tears in my eyes begin to spill and roll down my face. 

“We can have movie night! I-I can just do my work another day!” I cringe when I hear the heavy desperation in my voice.

I hear Virgil sigh before he turns to face me. He suddenly isn’t crying anymore and instead he just has an annoyed expression on his face.

“Fine,” His voice is so cold it forces a shiver to run down my spine, “I won’t break up with you. Now shut up and stop crying. You look so fucking pathetic.”

Pathetic...

I go to reply but before I can, I hear Virgil mumble, “So much for being a prince...”

A true prince isn’t a whiny crybaby! Stop being such a little bitch! You were in the wrong, so why are YOU crying!? He had every right to be mad at you!

I quickly wipe my tears away and force myself to calm down, “Sorry...”

He gives me a tight smile, “It’s fine. Now, put the movie on, and let’s cuddle on the couch.”

I smile a little and nod. He sits down on the couch as I put the movie on. Once the movie is on, I sit next to him on the couch and rest my head on his shoulder. He wraps an arm around me and pulls me close, and I can’t help but smile more. 

See, if you’re good, he’ll be nice to you! All you have to do is follow his rules and stay on his good side. How hard can that be...?

____

Virgil looks up at me, a disgusted expression on his face. 

“Are you seriously going to eat all that?” His voice comes out harsh and judgmental.

Disgusting pig...

I look down at my plate and hold back a wince. Now that I was actually paying attention to it, the amount of food on my plate made my stomach turn. 

Are you blind!? Why did you get so much food!? Aren’t you already fat enough!? If you want to be perfect stop being such a pig! How can anyone ever love someone as fat and disgusting as you!? STOP EATING! Fill up on water or something! Count your calories more! YOU HAVE TO BE PERFECT!

I swallow the lump in my throat and look back up at Virgil, “N-no... I accidentally got too much food... Of course, I wasn’t planning on eating all this...”

Virgil’s expression quickly changes from disgust to anger. He slams his hands on the table as he stands up, the sudden loud noise and movements make me flinch.

“BULLSHIT! DON’T LIE TO ME! WHAT TYPE OF BOYFRIEND ARE YOU!? FIRST YOU’RE GREEDY AND THEN YOU HAVE THE AUDACITY TO LIE ABOUT IT!?”

Greedy...

I cover my face with my hands to try and hide the fear in my face, “N-no! I-I swear...! I-I didn’t mean to g-get so much f-food!”

A scoff escapes his lips, “Fine... If you’re not going to tell me the truth then have it your way.”

He stands up and starts walking back to his room.

I reach out to him, “W-wait...” My voice is weak and shaky.

Useless...

He stops but doesn’t bother to glance at me or anything, “You’re sleeping in the basement today. And don’t you dare show yourself until you’ve lost some weight.”

And with that, he leaves.

My shaky knees give out, I fall to the floor, gripping my hair tightly and biting my lip as I try to stop myself from crying.

Don’t you dare cry! Stop being so sensitive! If you weren’t such a fuck up, he wouldn’t have gotten mad at you! Stop being so stupid and do something right for once! You let him down! You should have known better! Go to the basement and start planning your meals...

I slowly stand up and grab my plate, the site of it almost making me puke. I quickly throw away the food in the trash and put the plate in the sink. Then I make my way to the basement.

____

“Roman, stop being so dramatic.”

I flinch a little and keep my eyes glued to the floor. I couldn’t help but fidget with my hands desperately and ineffectively trying to stop my tears.

Dramatic... 

“I-I’m sorry...- I-I just...- Y-you said...-” I trip over my words, the ever-growing lump in my throat not helping to make the situation easier.

He scoffs, “Stop lying, I didn’t even say anything about you.”

I bite my tongue, “B-but you d-did... Y-You said-”

The second I realize what I said I cut myself off. 

Nononononono!!! Y-you idiot! He’s going to get mad at you!

Before I can apologize he walks up to me and pinches my arm, making me grimace.

“ARE YOU CALLING ME A LIAR!? I DIDN’T CALL YOU ANNOYING! IF ANYONE IS A LIAR, IT’S YOU!”

Liar...

I feel myself start to hyperventilate as I wrap my arms around my stomach tightly, “Y-you’re right... I-I’m sorry... Y-you would n-never say that...”

“Whatever,” Virgil steps away from me, “Have you eaten?”

I hug my stomach tighter at the mention of eating and shake my head, unable to force myself to speak.

He walks back over to me and puts a hand on my chin. He lifts my head and has me look at him, a smile on his face.

“Good, I’m glad you’re following the rules. As a reward, we can go cuddle in my room.”

A bright smile creeps into my face. I nod excitedly and we sink down to his room. At first, it was going great, but then, Virgil’s room began to affect me. I was getting more and more anxious but I ignored it.

Don’t ruin this nice moment! You’re always begging for attention, and you finally got it. DON’T MESS IT UP! You’re lucky he even agreed to cuddle after you accused him of lying. 

I stay quiet and just cuddle closer to Virgil, when he holds me closer I almost completely forget about my growing anxiety. 

____

At first, our arguments and insults stayed out of the videos. But soon, they began to leak through

“So do I, but I’m not like THAT.” 

Sorry... I just really like Disney...

“And as usual, you were completely unnecessary.”

Unnecessary....

“Prince, I got to say you do impress me, by being a clueless moron all the time.”

Clueless moron...

“Even Prince knew that.”

I get it... I’m the dumbest...

“Don’t encourage him.”

I’m just trying to do my job... I just want to be listened to...

“If it’s not original, haven’t we all lost?”

I’m trying! It’s harder than you think!

“You tried, you failed.”

Failed... I’m a failure...

“Princey, you are done, give it up!”

NO! I can’t give up! I can’t let him down!

“Princey, you could never let me down,” Thomas said in a sincere voice but I couldn’t help and be skeptical.

“No?” Said Virgil in a surprised and doubtful voice.

He doesn’t believe in me....

“They’re also determined and chivalrous.” Explained Thomas.

“And this is the one Roman thinks he’s in?” Asked Virgil in a fake whisper.

I guess he doesn’t think I’m determined or chivalrous... Am I that delusional to think I am...?

“I’m not evil!” I desperately called out.

“Says who?” Virgil quickly shot back.

E-evil... I can’t be evil... I’m supposed to be good...

“I so liked the original idea that I misinterpreted.”

Is my idea not good enough...?

“I tried to course-correct, but you wouldn’t let me.”

I just wanted a bit of control for once...

“Whatever, you know you screwed it up.”

Like I always do...

“All I’m saying is that you both suck at what you do and I’m tired of having to keep lighting fires under your butt”

I suck at my job... But at least I have Virgil to fix my mistakes...

“Wow, you are, unbelievably extra any chance you get.”

Extra... Always too extra...

“You know Roman, it’s too bad your brain isn’t as big as that chin.”

I’m not dumb... I-I’m not...

“It’s a puppet bit, just ignore them.”

Ignore me like always, right...?

“Too bad your “big admission” is dwarfed by your gargantuan failures.”

All I ever do is fail...

“Okay, you can stop.”

I’m just being myself....

“Shut up!”

Sorry...

“Princey, Princey, Princey, so naive.”

Naive...?

“Are you seriously siding with Deceit?”

I’m just trying to give him a chance...

“What are you- the jury decides if he’s guilty!”

So he only cares to correct me...?

____

I can’t take it anymore...! I-it hurt so much...!

I stand in front of my mirror, a feeling of hurt and loneliness corrupting my heart. My eyes are bloodshot red and tears flowed down my face at an alarming rate. My whole body was shaking and my breathes were shaky. 

Ugly! Stupid! Your shoulders aren’t broad enough! Your thighs are too wide! Your stomach is too big! Your neck is too fat! Your arms too heavy! You aren’t perfect enough! You’re still eating too much! Why are you still not good enough?! 

I curl my hands into a fist, my shaking becoming increasingly worse with every passing second. Suddenly, I’m no longer able to look at my own reflection.

Before I knew it, a loud crash filled my ears and I felt my knuckles sting. I looked at the mirror. It was now cracked and bloody. I look down at my knuckles, they were full of blood. 

But to my surprise, the pain felt... 

Good...

It hurts... My knuckles sting and ache... but... I like it... It feels nice... 

____

Eventually, I just gave up.

“Roman! You messed everything up again!”

“Sorry.”

I stopped fighting.

“Stop being dramatic. We all know that you’re just trying to get attention.”

“You’re right. Sorry,” I plastered a smile on my face.

I followed everything he said.

“Can’t you just come up with something good for once!? Stop wasting our time with your useless shitty ideas!”

I nod, “I’ll try harder, I promise.”

I just agreed.

“You’re still not skinny enough. Are you even trying!?”

“I am trying, I’m sorry, I’ll do more.”

I stayed silent and out of the way. I continued to skip meals. I kept self harming. Every day, things got worse and worse. But, at least, I still have Virgil.

____

They told me that if anything is bothering me to reach out. I slowly walk to the couch where Logan and Patton were sitting. I stand a few feet in front of them but neither of them acknowledged me.

I take a deep breath and clear my throat, finally getting their attention.

“Salutations Roman,” Logan said, looking up from his book, “Is there something that you require us for?”

I awkwardly avoid eye contact and mumble, “I, Um... Need to get some things off my chest...”

Logan raises a brow and fully sets his looks down, “Okay?”

While Logan seems to be somewhat interested, Patton just rolls his eyes.

“Fine, but hurry up, I was watching a movie,” Patton’s voice is harsh, making me flinch.

I see Logan give Patton a disappointed and displeased face, but Patton just ignores him.

I take another deep breath.

Just say it... It’s okay... T-they’ll believe me... R-right...?

After a few more seconds of debating with myself, I quietly mutter out, “V-Virgil, h-has b-been v-verbally a-abusing m-me...”

There’s a beat of silence. No longer than a couple of seconds. But, it feels like forever.

“Really Roman?” Patton’s voice cuts through the silence like a sharp knife, his tone annoyed and disappointed.

I put my head down and squeezes my eyes shut, “Y-yes...”

Patton’s sighs heavily and responds in a flat, unamused tone, “Roman, I’m disappointed in you. First, you’re mean to Virgil and now you’re lying about him abusing you!? Aren’t you supposed to be a prince? What type of prince lies about their significant other? Especially after he was was nice enough to forgive you for being so rude and gave you a chance.”

Pain and betrayal hit me like a truck going full speed. 

“I-I’m not l-lying!” I start shaking. I turn to Logan expectantly but to my surprise, he just looks away with a distraught expression on his face.

“Go to your room, Roman,” I don’t turn my attention back to Patton, instead I just start walking away.

As I leave, I hear Patton mumble to himself, “And to think that I labeled him the good one.”

I run to my room, making sure to slam the door as I go in.

They don’t care! They said they cared! They said we were friends! That we had each other’s backs! Was it all a lie!? Am I really that stupid and naive!? Why don’t they love me...? What did I do!?

I flop down on my bed, but I don’t cry, I felt like crying and I wanted to, but I couldn’t. So, I just lay there on my bed, staring up at the ceiling, feeling numb and broken.

____

I’m done! Enough is enough! I can’t do this anymore! They don’t care about me! None of them do! They all hate me! EVEN Thomas hates me now! I was supposed to be his hero! I was supposed to be the good one! 

I grip my sash tightly before ripping it off and tearing it to rags.

I don’t deserve it! Just like I don’t deserve any love and attention! I’m not good enough! I never will be! It isn’t fair!

I take off my prince costume, now only wearing the black shirt I usually wear underneath it. I take the shirt of my costume and quickly rip it up as well.

They chose a liar over me!? Why!? I’ve been trying so hard to prove myself to them! I kill myself to try and come up with creative ideas! I forced myself to change to meet their standards! I tore myself apart to please them!

I fall to the floor in defeat. A feeling of numbness suddenly washing over all my guilt, pain, sadness, and anger. Yet, even when I feel nothing but empty and numb, the tears won’t stop.

I followed Thomas’ request and tried to get rid of Virgil, only to get antagonized and proved wrong. So I tried my hardest to be nice to Virgil yet he is allowed to abuse and insults me all he wants! Then when I try to stand up for myself I get attacked by Thomas, Patton, and the fandom! I tried to be nice to De-Janus to show them I changed, and I’m wrong! So, I try being mean to him like they told me to be, and I’m wrong again! Nothing I ever do is right! Suddenly, Patton can be wrong just like everything we’ve known our whole life!

My wrist hurt, and I feel the blood of my multiple wounds running down my arm. My lungs begin to sting and burn, my throat clamps up keeping any air from reaching my lungs, my chest aches, and I start feeling lightheaded.

I want somebody... Anybody... I just need someone...

But who...? I’m all alone... I have nobody...

...Remus...

____

I stand outside of Remus’ room.

This is a bad idea... What if he laughs at me...!? But... He’s the only person I have left... 

I slowly knock on the door, cursing myself when I see how shaky my hand is.

After what seems like forever, the door opens and Remus looks at me with a shocked and concerned face.

“Roman?! What happened!? You look like shit! Are you okay!?” He slowly takes a step towards me and pulls me into a hug.

The second he hugs me, I fall apart again. 

Chocked sobs shake my body and I cling to Remus, hiding my face in his shoulder. I hear Remus sigh softly and he gently ushers me inside. He leads me to his bed and sits both of us down.

“Shhh, it’s okay Ro. You’re okay, just breathe.” 

I flinch slightly at how gentle and soft Remus’ voice is before nodding slightly. I start taking shaky deep breaths.

I don’t know how much time passes, but I eventually calm down. I slowly pull away from Remus and look down.

“I-I’m sorry... I didn’t mean to just come and burden you after all these years of ignoring you...” Despite how hard I try, my voice stays weak and tiny.

Remus, gently puts a comforting hand on my shoulder, “Hey, it’s okay. You don’t have to apologize, you aren’t burdening me.”

I bite my lip, “A-are you sure...? I-I s-started crying... and b-bothering you with my i-issues...”

Remus hugs me again and softly says, “Roman. You aren’t a burden and you’re not bothering me. Just because you started crying doesn’t mean you have to apologize. It’s okay to cry.”

W-what...? But Virgil always said that I shouldn’t cry...? He says I’m just being annoying and self-centered... W-was he lying..?

I hesitantly nod, hugging Remus back, “Okay...”

Suddenly, I feel someone on the bed shift a bit and my heart sinks. 

S-someone else is here?!

I pull away from the hug and look behind me, not sure what to expect. The face staring back at me immediately makes all my anger come rushing back to me.

“What are you doing here, Snake?” My voice comes out harsher than I expected it to but I can’t be bothered to care.

I see Janus flinch slightly and Remus sighs.

“Ro, that was mean... Apologize to Jan.”

A-apologize... 

My heart drops and it suddenly becomes impossible to breathe. I feel Remus go to pull me into another hug but I push him away and quickly stand up.

“APOLOGIZE!? WHY DO I HAVE TO APOLOGIZE!?” At this point I’m crying and shaking again, but this time, they’re tears of anger, “AFTER EVERYTHING HE HAS DONE TO ME, I HAVE A RIGHT TO BE MAD!”

“Roman, I-” Janus starts but I quickly cut him off.

“YOU PRETENDED TO BE PATTON AND HAD ME PRANCE AROUND ON A STAGE, EXPLOITING MY TRUST AND SOMETHING I LOVE! THEN YOU MADE ME THE STUPID JUDGE IN YOUR DUMB TRIAL AND PRETENDED TO BE MY FRIEND! AND WHEN I DIDN’T AGREE WITH YOU, YOU PUNISHED ME BY HAVING MY BROTHER HIT ME OVER THE HEAD WITH HIS MORNING STAR! YOU FILLED MY HEAD WITH FAKE COMPLIMENTS, POKING AT MY INSECURITIES AND MY DESPERATION FOR SOME SORT OF PRAISE AND LOVE!” My voice quivers and shakes. 

At this point, I see tears form in the corner of Janus’ eyes, but I continue, mostly because I just NEED to rant.

“YOU USED ME JUST TO GET LISTENED TO! AND I GET IT! IT SUCKS TO BE IGNORED! BUT THAT DOESN’T JUSTIFY YOUR SHITTY ACTIONS! LOGAN GETS IGNORED AND YOU DON’T SEE HIM MANIPULATING OTHERS! I GET IGNORED AND YOU DON’T SEE ME EXPLOITING OTHERS WEAKNESS! REMUS GETS IGNORED AND YOU DON’T SEE HIM USING OTHERS! THERE ARE OTHER WAYS TO BE LISTENED!” My voice breaks off, unable to continue screaming.

I laugh, the laugh heavily laced with bitterness and sadness, then I crumple to the floor. 

“I-I have a r-right t-to...- T-to...-” I cut myself off and just cry into my hands, going from angry frustrated tears to sorrowful tears.

I hear both of them slowly stand up, Remus takes a knee next to me while Janus sits in front of me. I feel Remus starts to slowly and gently rub my back.

“Roman,” Janus’ voice is soothing and gentle, making me look up at him.

His face is full of guilt and the tears that pricked his eyes a few seconds ago were now slipping down.

“I’m SO sorry,” He continues, “I know what I did is wrong and that it seriously hurt you. I know that a sorry won’t fix the mess I’ve caused. And I know that nothing I do will change the past. But, I really am sorry. You don’t have to forgive me yet, you can forgive me when you are ready. For now, just breathe, everything will be okay.” 

I don’t have the strength to argue, not anymore. All I do is give him a small nod in response and start slowly breathing.

Remus starts slowly breathing with me while Janus whispers reassurance, and it surprising helps, a lot. I continue breathing, and slowly start calming down.

It will be okay...?

____

“How are you feeling Ro?” Remus asks in a gentle calming voice.

I smile a little and quietly mumble, “I feel slightly better. Thank you.”

He nods, smiling softly, “Of course Ro.”

“So,” I turn my attention to Janus, “Do you think you’re ready to tell us what happened?” He keeps his voice super gentle and soothing.

His tone helps keep me calm and I slowly nod, “Yeah...”

They both look at me, and I can’t help but feel a warmth in my heart.

They’re willing to listen to me... They’re actually going to listen... 

I take a deep breath, ready to just get everything off my chest.

____

To be continued.

I finally finished! This took so long, but I really liked it. Also, kinda sucks that this had to come out on Roman’s birthday, but I really didn’t want to post it any later. So, yeah, part 2 will be out soon. Later! 

Tell me if you want to be tagged or removed.

@anti-virgil  @romanvirgil  @yeet-ceit  @nachosforfree  @unsympathetic-virgil @sanders-sides-soap-box   @virgil-negativity  @a-gay-angel @potatsanderssides @sapphire-knight  @a-small-snidget @easterpop-reblogs @nostarsinthedark @itriedandimtired @cemmy @unus-janus

[curlystom]

next to you — tom holland

{ in which you’re not the only one that likes to hang out on the fire escape }

a/n: this is dedicated to my best friend bre @stealthspideys​ who is the reason why i pushed myself to finish this. i love you endlessly. and i hope you enjoy this

word count: 2.4k

warnings: angst, fluff, mentions of drugs and overdosing!

MASTERLIST

Your lips trembled as you climbed through your bedroom window, sock-covered feet touching the freezing cold metal stairs. With your favorite blanket hanging from your shoulders, you quietly climbed toward the chair you’ve spent countless nights in to consume all your thoughts. 

Living in the city had its ups and downs. Although the sound of cars honking and random people yelling in the middle of the night drove you crazy, the view of lights illuminating the dark sky was something you could never get tired of. You think you’ve spent more time out on your fire escape than your actual living area, but you didn’t care. 

You sat down, bare thighs growing used to the temperature of the metal before you criss-crossed your legs. Letting out a big sigh, tears started welling up in your eyes for what seemed like the millionth time that day as you thought back to earlier.

“Why do you always have to be so fucking dramatic?! Just for once in your life, can you CALM down?”

The yelling had been going on for at least an hour at this point; and you had tugged on the strands of your hair so much, you were sure it was going to fall out soon. 

“Calm down? CALM DOWN? I just walked in on you doing drugs and you want me to fucking act like nothing happened!?” You exclaimed, voice becoming rough and hoarse due to all your shouting. 

His addiction to drugs was something you knew about long before you were dating. Though you believed you were never the type to love someone who was a drug addict, his charm and charisma pulled you in and you learned to ignore it. Until you couldn’t.

You would find yourself coming home with him passed out on the couch, pulse weakening by the minute. Panicking, you’d call 911 and rush him to the hospital and only pray that nothing seriously bad would happen to him. Luckily, nothing did happen; and each time he’d lay in the hospital bed he’d plead to you that he’d get himself clean and get help. And you believed him.

“Y-you promised me you stopped. I BELIEVED you when you told me you were clean.” Tears were pouring down your red cheeks, nose running—causing you to wipe it with your sweater sleeve every minute or so. 

“And I was! F-fuck, I was. I swear babe, I was doing so good I just-” He was scratching at his arms, a habit you had noticed early on when he became fidgety, nervous, and anxious. 

You pried his hand away from his arm, pushing him down onto the couch before beginning to pace back and forth in front of him. “I don’t think you understand how life threatening this is everytime you do it. You’ve already been to the hospital once within the past year. When are you EVER going to learn?!”

He rested his elbows against his knees, hands running viciously through his hair that you thought it was going to start falling out. “I-I was getting better. I swear! It’s just that w-work has been so rough and I’m just so stressed and this makes everything go away! It’s just a one time thing I promi-”

“NO! No it’s not. God, can’t you see that this stuff is literally killing you! Everyday I wonder if today is going to be it, where you don’t wake up anymore and I have to-”

The room fell silent. He looked up at you with bloodshot eyes, a mixture from crying and drugs. A single tear fell down your cheek again and you rushed to wipe it away before sighing in defeat. The constant fear and pain you felt daily wasn’t worth it anymore and it was weighing on you more than before. 

“I-, I’m sorry. I can’t do this anymore.”

He had begged not to leave, dropping to his knees with tears welling up, telling you he’ll fix himself and go back to rehab. But you shook your head no, saying that he needed to get help for himself and not for someone else. He packed his things and left not much longer after that, leaving you alone in the apartment for the first time in years. It was like a piece of your heart had been ripped out and you flopped down on the couch clutching your chest in pain.

Breathing became more shaky as the never-ending tears seemed to fall onto your reddening cheeks. The constant ache you felt in your chest, like your ribs were suffocating your heart and a thousand needles had sank into it, was slightly interrupted when a gust of wind blew a few strands of hair in front of your face. Then all of a sudden, you heard the sound of metal clashing on the fire escape next to yours and your body flinched at the noise. 

Wiping the remaining tears from your face, you turned your head to see what the commotion was all about only to see your next door neighbor with his hands covering his face.

“S-sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” Tom picked up the foldable chair that had fallen over when he was climbing out of his window and rested it against the railing.

You gave a small smile. “It’s no worries.”

“What’s someone like you doing out here at this hour?” He sat down against his window sill, back against the edge of the frame with his knees brought up to his chest. “It’s a little bit late and cold to be having a midnight crisis.”

Biting your lip to suppress a laugh from escaping, you shook your head. “I’m always having a midnight crisis.”

Tom was about to respond before he paused, taking a moment to examine your face that was being illuminated by the moon just right. It didn’t take much to realize that you had been crying out here, now noticing the dried tear stains you had failed to wipe away and the swollen eyes you were going to cry more about later. He could recognize a broken heart when he saw one, and although he didn’t know you too well--a casual run in here and there--it pained him to see you hurt.

“Are you okay?” He frowned, twiddling with his fingers as he leaned forward a bit. 

Your fingers fiddled with the loose string on your blanket, wrapping it a little bit too tight around your pointer finger before unravelling it. Glossy eyes locking with his, you took the moment to take a good look at him for the first time that night. His curls were tousled and fell perfectly in front of his face, but luckily not blocking the view of his chocolate orbs that were staring at you in concern. His black t-shirt was wrinkled and looked like they had some fresh coffee stains on the front while his basketball shorts had some obvious fraying at the ends. He looked like a total mess, but it was comforting.

“I-um, it’s nothing.”

“Hey…” Tom planted his feet onto the fire escape, scooting along his window sill to sit closer to you. “It’s not nothing… I know a broken heart when I see one.”

More tears seemed to gloss over your eyes, and you desperately tried to not let them fall in front of him. The last thing you needed was to have a neighbor witness your heartbreak. You couldn’t help but let out a laugh, quickly wiping remnants of the failed tears along your lower lash line with your sweater. “You got me there Tom, I’ll admit.” 

He chewed on his bottom lip, eyes softening as he watched you collect yourself and your thoughts. It was obvious that there was a lot on your mind.

“I um…” You let out a shaky breath. “I broke up with my boyfriend today.”

His saddening expression grew, eyes darting towards the ground in sympathy. “I’m sorry-”

You held your hand out to interrupt him. “No. No, don’t apologize. I-, I stayed with him as long as I could but it just got to be too much.” 

The tightness grew inside your chest, wanting nothing but to release that pain you had been feeling all day by letting those desperate sobs slip through. The silence that surrounded the two of you grew, and you knew he was letting you finish before intervening.

“We were best friends all throughout school and then once we got into college he just-, changed? He got addicted to drugs and I just.. let it happen. I tried and begged for him to stop and he would for the most part. But…” You took a second to pause, taking deep breaths to soothe your growing hyperventilation. It was bubbling inside of you and you could feel it, scratching at the inside of your throat as more tears welled up in your eyes. 

“He overdosed 10 months ago. I came h-home from work and he was just lying on the couch.. helpless. It was like my whole body shut down. I-, I couldn’t even move. It felt like forever before I eventually called 911 and tried to find his pulse.”

Tom felt his chest tighten the more your words fell past your trembling lips. Shivers traveled all throughout your body even though you had your blanket draped around your shoulders, but it wasn’t because you were cold. You didn’t even realize you were shaking until you noticed your figure was being wrapped in Tom’s arms, who had walked over from his side of the fire escape to yours. His body broke your fall as you slipped off your chair, unable to control the unsteady breathing and cries you tried so desperately to keep in. It was no use anymore.

You took this opportunity to bury your face into his chest, finding purchase on the end seam of his shirt and feeling the foreign tough of his fingertips trace along your skin. Fluttering your eyes closed, you focused on the way he traced endless circles and lines on the back of your arm and small of your back. He kept a consistent pace, knowing you were steadying your breathing with his movements and made sure to switch up the mindless shapes every once in a while. 

Tom rested his chin on top of your head, taking in the scent of lavender and honey from your freshly washed hair. He had come out to ease his mind off the ongoing anxiety he had for his audition that morning. It had been 6 months of endless work—memorizing lines and doing unnecessary backflips with the hopes of impressing the higher ups—and it was seemingly getting nowhere. Pacing back and forth in his living room, he rubbed his face in frustration when he couldn’t remember the scene he had been working on all day, before ultimately deciding it was enough and to get some fresh air. He didn’t expect to have you in his arms, desperately trying to calm down, but your presence was just what he needed to relieve his mind off of his insecurities. 

The both of you sat in silence, except for the occasional hiccup from you here and there, and appreciated each others company. Tom carefully lifted his left wrist, trying not to break the position you were in, and checked the time. 3:18am. He snuck a peek at your face to see if you were still awake as he hadn’t felt any movement from you in a while. You sat there, cheek against his damp shirt with a small smile of your face. 

“You’re smiling…” He said softly, twirling strands of your hair between his fingers. 

“I just-, thank you.” Sitting up straight, allowing Tom’s hands to ghost around your waist, not wanting to make you uncomfortable. “You didn’t have to stay out here and do all this..”

Eyebrows furrowed, he shook his head while his lips tugged a soft smile. “You don’t need to thank me.. it hurt to see you that upset and I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if I left you alone.”

Your fingers left his shirt, a habit you had forgotten about midway through, and made their way towards the nape of his neck. Playing with the little curls, you twirled the short hairs around your finger—copying his actions from earlier—before wrapping your arms around him and bringing him in for a hug. His arms snaked around your waist, face burying in the crook of your neck and it was then when you realized how close you two were. 

He smelt of a light vanilla, one familiar with the candle you bought him for Christmas. Another smile made its way to your face at the thought of him still having it and clearly using it. 

You were the first to pull away, retracting your arms from your shoulders as you moved to stand up. Tom’s look of disappointment was overlooked by you, too focused on regaining feeling in your legs to see the way his eyes saddened and lips slightly pouted. “I should, uh, go to sleep. It’s probably like 4am now.”

He nodded, wiping his clammy hands on his shorts before resting his palm on the window sill, steadying himself as he began to stand up on his own. Your back was towards him, grabbing the forgotten blanket and fixing the pillow and chair that had fallen over. Tom pursed his lips, tip toeing back to his own window, believing that was the end of the night. 

“Tom?”

He turned around with one foot already inside of his apartment. Eyes wide—filled with hope—Tom stood there waiting as you looked at him with happiness glossing over your eyes. The crinkles near them simply made his heart flutter and he couldn’t help but show his own, which made you smile even more. 

“Thank you.”

“Anything for you.” Teeth biting back a grin, he looked at you once more before you opened your window and headed back inside. 

Wrapping the cold blanket around your shoulders once more, you padded your way towards the bedroom, passing the living room where the earlier events took place and ignored the invisible memories that tried to replay again. All you could do was gently close your swollen eyes and be grateful that you have someone like Tom in your life to pick you up when you fall down. 

And you would suddenly be okay again. 

[hydra-collector]

I’m Not Okay

AO3

Pairings: Analogical

Characters: Logan Sanders, Virgil Sanders, Patton Sanders (minor character), Roman Sanders (minor character)

TW: self-harm, referenced homophobia, panic attacks

Words: 1738

Summary: Virgil comes to terms with his depression. High school AU.

Note: God, is it going to be a relief not having to add links to every single chapter.

The first day was fine.

Virgil was slightly off. It was barely noticeable.

“Virgil!”

“Hey, Pat.”

“How’re ya doing?”

“I’m…”

He wasn’t good. But it wasn’t bad. Just a wrong kind of day. Wrong days are normal, he’d had them before. This one was different, though. School had been let out, things should be better than usual.

“Pretty good.”

The second day he felt worse. Slightly. He couldn’t tell, but he did. He remarked to himself how odd two bad days in a row were, it was unusual. No reason to get worried, though, he already had enough of that.

The third day was annoying. Three off days in a row was irritating. Of course, it was bound to happen once in his life.

The fourth day he was slightly scared. This doesn’t happen often. But he didn’t feel that bad, it was probably fine. He’d just wait until tomorrow.

The fifth, sixth, and seventh days weren’t any better. It would be fine, though, people have a rough week sometimes.

The next week it happened again. He was unhappier than before. He was more irritable towards his friends and family, annoyed that it had kept going on. The week after that, he was getting more apathetic to it. The week after that he was frustrated again.

And so, the day had turned into a month.

He was a little scared. People get bad months, but he didn’t like it. It was normal, though. It happens. Next month will be good.

It wasn’t.

“Virgil, are you doing alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, L.”

“You seem less attentive than usual.”

He claimed he was more stressed out, but there was no reason to be. His friends were around more, school was relatively easy, he had good, supportive teachers to help with his anxiety. But the month was worse than last. He was slightly sadder. It was fine, though, this was normal. This was okay.

The next month it happened again. Weeks got worse as the month progressed, but it was easy to ignore. He blamed it on school. Anyway, if he talked to his friends for a while he was just as happy as usual.

The next month was his crying month. The feeling was harder to avoid, and it was affecting him. It was harder to talk to people, harder to get things done, harder to calm down from panic attacks. It was frustrating.

“Roman, I can calm down by myself.”

“You’re not- I mean, I think I could help.”

“It’s fine, it- it was just a test.”

Virgil was shaking and hyperventilating. How could he have failed the test? Well, quiz. But he studied and studied and studied, what did he do wrong? God, he did need Roman here, didn’t he?

“It doesn’t seem that way to you, emo.”

“I’m fine, just go away.”

Roman offered him a hug before he left, which did make him feel a bit better.

But you failed.

He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t move properly, he needed to relax, he was going to die-

The month after that, the fifth month, he noticed it daily. It didn’t help that a crush was eating away at his anxiety.

The sixth month he claimed he was helping himself, if intentionally triggering panic attacks is what you would call helping yourself. He used that pain to cope. He wanted more of it. He wouldn’t say that, though. He said this was fine. People have a bad couple of months sometimes. He’d started dating Logan as well, which was making him happier, but at the same time he didn’t want to be happy. Torturing himself was the answer.

“Scientists say climate change will affect more than the weather….”

“Two people murdered just south of the school, authorities investigating…”

“We don’t need queer representation to turn our kids gay!”

The next month got worse. He wanted this pain to be seen. He wanted it to show up on his skin. At first it was a bruise.

The next month it was a scratch. From pins and needles, nails, pencils, anything. This wasn’t self-harm, it was just coping. Not coping, he’s not depressed. It was just… an alternative. To feeling like he did.

The next month he drew blood. The first time, he’d dug his nails so deep into his skin and it bled and it was beautiful. He spent the rest of the day just looking at it when he could. He tried with the pins and it worked. He’d scratch and scratch until it was finally red.

The tenth month he gave in. It was slight and shallow, but he’d done it. Stolen his mother’s razor, just to bleed a little. It was so much easier.

The eleventh month he was doing it all the time. Logan was worried about him, with more frequent panic attacks and moments where he did nothing but lean against his boyfriend silently.

“You haven’t said anything all day, Virgil. Is something going on?”

“Nah.”

“If there is, I can offer my help-”

“I’m fine.”

He was.

It wasn’t self-harm, it wasn’t depression. It weighed on him so much but it wasn’t hurting him. It didn’t mean anything. He was fine. He was okay.

The twelfth month, it happened.

Virgil always wore his hoodie, no matter what time of year. He used to be able to take it off if he wanted, but not anymore. He couldn’t worry anyone. Even if they likely didn’t care.

It was a hot, miserable day. Reaching ninety degrees, Logan had reason to worry about his boyfriend.

“Virgil, I suggest you take that off.”

“I’m okay. I’m not that hot.”

“I’m not sure how that’s possible. It’s ninety degrees.”

Virgil only shrugged.

During lunch, he fell asleep on Logan, who was reading from some nonfiction book. He was sweating profusely, and obviously very hot. Logan took his chance to roll up his sleeves, at the very least.

Virgil woke up.

He panicked and pulled away from Logan before he could roll them up very much, but he’d seen what he needed to already.

“Why did you-”

“Virgil, you were going to overheat. You still are. I’m sorry I did that, but I’m scared for your well-being.”

He began breathing heavily, his entire body shaking and more heat emanating off of him.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Logan.”

“Virgil, it’s okay. Why don’t we go somewhere where it’ll be easier to calm down?”

Virgil couldn’t be with him right now. Not after what he’d seen.

But he was so damn hot.

He wobbled as he got up, only just realizing how dizzy he was from both the heat and the hyperventilation. He was shaking and it was only getting hotter and he wanted to take his hoodie off. But he couldn’t.

Logan led them to the empty bathroom, closing the door and setting up a chair to prevent anyone from coming in.

“Virgil, can you please breathe for me? In for 4, hold for 7, out for 8.”

Virgil did so, though trying to stay further away from Logan than he usually would have. The bathroom was slightly cooler, at least, as there weren’t bodies of teenagers there. He tried to divert his thoughts away from his arms and towards his breathing.

After a while, he’d calmed down. It would have been easier if he’d given Logan a hug, but it was too hot. Too damn hot.

“I need to ask you to take your hoodie off.”

He could have had another panic attack, but subdued it by digging his nails into his hands. Pain was always there to help him.

“I- I’m fine.”

“Please, Virgil. You’re going to overheat and… I want to help you.”

His heart beat too fast.

“No, Logan, I swear I’m okay-”

“Virgil, you’re still sweating. You’re too hot.”

“I’m not-”

“Please. Besides the heat, just please let me help you.”

“I- I don’t need help, Logan.”

“I don’t mean to upset you, but you really, really do. I love you, Virgil. I want you to be happy.”

“I can’t let you be unhappy! I’m going to hurt you!”

“It only hurts me being unable to help you. I can’t help you if you won’t let me. You’ll always make me happy. I’ll always love you and love being with you. I hate seeing you in pain, but it hurts me more for you to be alone in this. I hoped you were doing better than I thought, but you aren’t. I want you to be happy. You make me happy, no matter how you feel. I will love you anyway.”

“So please, Virgil. Please take off your sweater.”

“I-”

He sobbed quietly, the static that was sending him into panic clearing up. He extended his arms to Logan, nodding through his tears, letting him pull the hoodie over his head. The moment he was free, he was so relieved.

He collapsed into the chair holding the door closed, laying his arms out on his legs.

“I have First Aid.”

Virgil whispered a quiet “okay” as he stood up again, still shaking. The cold water Logan rinsed over his arms felt refreshing. The sweat that had seeped into his cuts was washed away, leaving only blood and scars. Logan put on a very thin layer of gauze, trying to avoid overheating again.

“I’m sorry I do this, Logan.”

“I apologize that there isn’t more I can do to help.”

“I’d take a hug.”

He made it fairly loose and short, replacing a tighter, more comforting hug. He kissed Virgil’s cheek to make up for it.

“Do you have a therapist?”

“Y-yeah.”

“Have you told them?”

“No,” he looked away from Logan, “it’s probably fine, anyway.”

Logan cupped Virgil’s face, looking him in the eyes.

“It’s not.”

“It- it really doesn’t matter.”

“You’re hurting, Virgil.”

“I’m fine.”

“No. You’re not. I want you to realize that. This isn’t healthy, this isn’t okay.”

“I’m- it’s-”

“Virgil?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you repeat after me?”

“O-okay.”

“I’m not okay.”

“I’m… not okay.”

“And that’s okay.”

“And that’s okay.”

“You aren’t okay, love. Not at all. So many people struggle like you do, and I wish you didn’t have to, but you do. It’s okay to be sad. It’s okay to want this. But please realize, being that way all the time isn’t okay, isn’t healthy. You don’t need to feel like this. You’re not okay. And that’s okay.”

[rationaromanceblog]

The Breakup

I don’t want this. I don’t want this. I don’t want this. I despair silently as my days turn into weeks. As I watch him come in and out of the apartment. As I cry myself to sleep.  How can I make you love me? What can I do?? I am panicked, frantic for ideas. What if I am sweeter? More adoring? I start considering. I could give him more kisses and hugs, then he’ll have to understand. I resolve to try. What more could I possibly lose? 

 I am sitting at the kitchen table when he gets home. He settles in, not making eye contact, only giving me a brief greeting. He’s not ignoring me exactly, just not dying to chat.  I keep staring. Look at me. My gaze pleads but it’s not working. I walk up to him and stand in his way. “Look at me.” I manage to whisper. This is painful. He hesitates but stops and looks. Can you understand how desperate I am to fix this? My eyes start to collect tears but before they spill I hug him tightly and breath deeply. He stiffens slightly, but let’s me hug him.  After a while of his non reaction I admit defeat and let go slowly. “I love you.” I say. How do I fix this? I want to ask. “I love you too.” He says back, stilted. 

Technically we’re not broken up. The official words have not been spoken. He simply put the gun on the table and backed away slowly, refusing to pull the trigger. I am aghast and anxious for him to shoot. Instead he checked out. All I have is a shadow of a person as I scramble for something that will give me back the relationship I had. Maybe I am just not lovable enough? I start to wonder. Maybe there’s nothing I can do. 

For weeks after the initial conversation he walks in and out of our apartment barely acknowledging me. He gives me short answers, he doesn’t smile. Our home has become a frozen tundra and I don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to stand it. I wallow in anxiety. Wondering what’s going to happen and why on earth it hasn’t yet.  I don’t want this. Breaking up was the furthest thing from my mind. But something needs to happen. I am starting to think he’s too scared to do it. Just because it hasn’t been declared doesn’t mean we’re not already living it. I hate admitting that. I guess it’s on me. 

Me: Hey…

 I decide to text him. Mainly out of cowardice

 What if we did a trial break up? We can live as if we are broken up for a while, and if we don’t like it, we can go back to normal.

Kevin: That’s a good idea

I want to give him an out. I want it to be clear it doesn’t have to be permanent. You can change your mind. Please change your mind. 

He comes home that night more receptive to me. I make us dinner and for the first time he makes idle chit chat. 

“I’ll sleep in the living room.” He states once we get into the particulars of the arrangement. “No, we can take turns.” I am quick to refute. “We both bought that huge bed we should both sleep on it sometimes. “ Don’t worry about it.” he insists. “You take the room.”  I shrug.  He seems lighter. Taking this step was the right move I acknowledge begrudgingly. 

After dinner I watch as he pushes the couches in the living room together to make a spacious bed. Just a few months ago we were shopping for those, dreaming about what our apartment might become. We roamed that store for hours finally deciding on the two comfiest couches we’d ever sat on, that were also luckily in the clearance section. The memory brings a small smile to my face that is quickly wiped away when he asks where we keep the extra set of comforters. I go and get them, and grab his pillow from our bed.  

That night I cry quietly wondering if I will ever run out of tears. I didn’t know it was possible to cry this much.  I wish he would come into the room and lay with me. I could ask him... I realize. Would he say no? Do I have that much courage? I don’t. I decide, after going back and forth for an hour. My ego is bruised plenty I won’t risk more rejection. I am startled awake by my alarm unsure when I stopped crying long enough to fall asleep. I am alone. I think as I look around the room. The first of many mornings to come. And the tears start right up again. 

A few weeks later he hasn’t asked to go back to how things were. My hoping that he was going to change his mind starts to turn into a panic that he won’t. I dread coming home to see those couches pushed together day after day. Outside of the apartment, it doesn’t seem so bad. I even catch myself smiling from time to time. But when I come home the inescapable truth hits me. It’s really over.  I try not to look into the living room and head straight to the room but it doesn’t matter, I already know what’s there. 

My lungs start to feel like they are shrinking and I am breathing through a straw. I can’t see straight. There are spots everywhere. I make it to the door of my room, throw my bag down and lay with it on the carpet still wearing my winter coat.

He finds me like that, on the floor hyperventilating and sobbing.  I didn’t even hear him come in. 

“Maria…?” He whispers and kneels down next to me.  “What’s going on?” 

I don’t respond. I can’t. His voice fills with more concern. “What do you need?”  

I try to shake my head, it's hard to since I can’t pick it up off the ground.

 “I. Can’t. Breath.” I manage to croak. He has been privy to my panic attacks he knows the drill.

“Here.” He kneels down,  helps me take my coat off and lays next to me on the floor. His face next to mine on the carpet watches me intently.

“Do you want to talk to me?” He is using his sweetest voice. It penetrates my heart and only makes me sob harder. 

“It’s okay baby.” He soothes and gently rubs my back. He’s barely touched me in weeks. If only I could lie here forever.

 It takes about 10 more minutes but with enough focused attention I calm down enough to bring air into my lungs with more ease. I start to sit up. He stares at me wide eyed and concerned getting up with me. 

“I am not doing okay.” I say in a shaky voice wiping away tears. “I want to be.” I add and shrug. 

“Is there anything I can do?” He asks with genuine concern. 

“No.” I say and sigh deeply. “I’ll manage this.”

I promise, to both him and myself. 

I go run the shower. I need to get away from him, his concern only makes the pain worse. I can’t sulk in grief for the next 9 months. I need to start accepting this. But I immediately reject the idea. Admit defeat?  This break up is wrong. It doesn’t make sense. How can I accept it?  The comfort of the hot water envelopes me and I start to feel better. Physically, at least.  My future. The beautiful home we were building. Am I just supposed to let it go?  It feels like I was having a gourmet meal when the table cloth was yanked and everything went flying off the table, leaving me with a terrible mess to clean. What choice do I have?

I need to make sense of this breakup. There’s a small voice in my head that gets louder everyday. It’s not very nice, but it rings true.  Of course Kevin broke up with you. It says. You thought the man of your dreams was madly in love with you? Get serious. Of course he’s leaving, he never wanted to be here. The universe has finally realized it’s mistake. The idea hurts but I can see it. I can make peace with it. That’s okay then. I can accept that.  I start to think.

I share the idea with Kevin. I’d like him to confirm it. 

“What? No Maria. What are you talking about?” Kevin reacts.  “Of course I still like you, and love you, and want you and always have.” He speaks with admonishment that I would believe the opposite. 

I stare perplexed. I was expecting the opposite. He was going to come clean and own the fact that he never really wanted to be with me. It was going to hurt but letting go was going to be easier from now on. 

“Um… You do?” I respond, unsure why he feels the need to keep lying to me. 

“Yes!” He insists.

“Then why are we breaking up!?” I shout. Frustrated that what was finally making sense makes no sense again. 

“I told you. We weren’t affectionate, we weren’t romantic. We turned into friends. That’s not the kind of relationship I want to have.”

I shake my head. I hate that answer. “We can change that. If we both agree we still have feelings for one another there are things we can do!”  I yell, starting the argument we’ve had several times already. 

“We’ve tried before.” He replies, calmly, dejected, and on cue. 

“Not like this. Not knowing breaking up was the result of failing.”

“I don’t want it to be forced.” He repeats, slowly pronouncing every word. Hoping I will finally understand.

“What’s wrong with trying?” I ask but I’ve lost my vigor. I know his mind is made up. I know there is no reasonable argument that can change his mind. I hear the determination of his decision increase every time we have this argument.

“Maybe at another point in our lives. Maybe once we have some space and time we can come back and have the relationship we were supposed to have. I just can’t make you any promises.”

I sit back and close my eyes. The relationship we were supposed to have. That’s hilarious. He holds just as much responsibility in creating this dynamic as I do. More actually. We were doing just fine until he decided to withdraw affection from me for the sake of protecting his delicate heart all those years ago. But I know I am just as guilty for letting it happen. We made it this way and we can also unmake it. I believe wholeheartedly. I just don’t know how to show him.

I don’t want to be bitter, but it’s getting difficult not to. I love Kevin so much, I want to be friendly, kind and understanding. But he gave up, and the anger I hold for his decision starts to leak through in our interactions. I become short and snappy. My own annoyed reactions to his simple inquiries catch me by surprise. I don’t recognize this person. He doesn’t comment on my hostility. I think he feels guilty. I am acting like the victim to a crime he has committed. I am convinced I am.  

 Kevin made a choice. I just happen to be affected. I try to talk myself out of it when I feel the subtle indignation peak. Nothing has been done to you. You are not a victim. I want to be rational, but the anger is intense.  Kevin obviously did hurt you! I argue back. The ache in your chest proves it. It’s his fault you feel like this!  My thoughts spiral. You wouldn’t be in pain if it wasn’t for him. But I want to be above it. I remind myself.  Living with him has made it imperative we get along. We agreed it wasn’t worth the money to break the lease and I don’t want to live in a hostile environment. He didn’t ruin my life. My life isn’t ruined. I am going to be okay, blame is not necessary. Blame does nothing. I practice believing that whenever I feel the hot anger overcome me. I picture myself calm and loving towards him. It’s not too difficult, it’s what I most want. Slowly I start to strip away the anger. I want to be his friend, I miss him. Being kind is first and foremost. 

“Hope is a problem. “ She says through the headphones in my ear. “Hoping for something to happen does not motivate action. Hope makes you passive. It’s dreaming about a circumstance that you have no control over. It’s exchanging this current moment for a future better one. Hope sounds lovely. But that is deceptive. If you want something, you have to take action. You have to decide. It is up to you.” 

I turn off the podcast and stare at my ceiling. I’ve been staring at my ceiling a lot lately. For the first time just listening to the thoughts in my head. They’re so loud.  “I am living on hope.” I admit out loud to the ceiling. Hope is all I eat, sleep and drink lately.  It sustains me. “I want him to change his mind. I hope he changes his mind.” I mumble, saying the thoughts I hold dear. “I am just not ready to let go. All I have left is hope.” But her words strike me. She’s right, hoping is keeping me helpless. So how do I force myself not to want him? How do you stop wanting what you want? I throw the pillow I am gripping against the wall. This is frustrating. I lay back down and stare at the ceiling some more, maybe the answer is in one of the crevasses up there. A half hour later I get up. I don’t want to be helpless or at his whim. I know that much. I have no control over what he does or decides and I don’t know what to do about this desire. But I can do something. I can focus on the what I have control over.

For the next 6 months I go into serious self improvement mode. My life has been turned on its head and instead of sitting around being at it’s mercy I make some decisions. I start to put back together my gourmet meal, one broken dish at a time. I reluctantly accept the reality of the situation. I start to imagine what life is going to require of me without Kevin. For one, I need to get my finances on track. I don’t know anything about credit, I don’t have an ounce of savings and I could probably be making more money than I am.  I dive deep into all things self help. I learn about the power of meditation. The pain from the heartbreak is so unbelievably heavy and constant, I learn quickly meditating helps me process the pain in a way I’ve never experienced. Eventually I get up feeling a little less melancholy. A little more at ease. I read a book on nutrition, decide to cut out processed foods and lose a bunch of weight. I join a cross fit class since I’ve always wanted to be someone that exercises regularly. I become vegetarian after spending a lonely fourth of July weekend watching vegan documentaries on Netflix. Distracting myself from the fact that Kevin was going to tell his family then that we were over. I learn about investing and open a savings account and a Roth IRA. I quit my job with crap hours and get a better paying one that is 9 to 5. It’s as if the pain from the breakup motivates me to do things I never would have.  I am taking ownership of my life. I start dreaming for myself years down the road. I feel a sense of control again. I ask myself what I truly want, if I could have anything? Who do I want to become? Confident. Thriving. Independent. I dare to believe what might be possible. You could say I start to hope, but better, I start to plan. 

During these months Kevin and I grew close again. The immediate pain of being broken up receded and we spent our afternoons together. We cherished the time knowing we would soon be apart. We no longer played mind games, we weren’t afraid to be vulnerable and real. All of the issues we had, any resentment that we held, dissipated. None of it seemed to matter. We showed up authentically without agendas and expectations. We were still intimate on occasion, but it became less frequent over time. We were slowly letting go of each other. Counting down the days until the end of our lease.

Once in awhile I would check in and wonder why we were breaking up. Seeing if maybe he’d rethought the decision. Considering how great we were getting along it made no sense. 

“If you say that maybe someday we can make it work, why can’t we break up with the intention of coming back to each other?” I asked one morning as he ironed his clothes and I journaled at the kitchen table.

“Because I don’t want us to put our lives on hold for each other, that’s not fair to either of us.”

“I would. If you asked me to.” I proclaimed

“I wouldn’t ask you to.” 

“But you want to stay friends. You don’t think that’s unfair to ask?”

‘“I don’t want to lose you from my life Maria.” he says passionately. “Maybe we aren’t meant to be together but I do think we belong in each other’s life. Don’t you?”

Well of course I do. I am in love with you. I think but ignore it and keep writing instead to hide my frustration.

  Kevin’s insistence that we stay friends was both amazing and awful. Certainly the joy of still having his company keeps me interested. But what if being his friend keeps me pinning? That sounds like a nightmare. He thinks we can make it work that everything will  be fine. I am not as confident.

Kevin informs me that he has been looking for apartments a few months before our lease is set to end. I put it off, I still have plenty of time. Also, what if we miraculously somehow end up staying together?  A little hope lingers in the background. That’s not why I am waiting. I tell myself. I am just too busy and it’s still too soon. 

A week later it’s official. 

“I signed a new lease.” He says. “I got the confirmation yesterday.” Fuck.  “Oh.” I say quietly. Feeling a tight knot in my stomach. Wait no.

I never told my new coworkers my ex and I were living together, I said he was still my boyfriend. It seemed easier than explaining the situation at the time. And for a few hours in my day I got to live as if it were true.  As I walk into work red faced and sniffling I decide it’s time to come clean. 

I go straight to my manager so I can explain why I’ll be on the verge of tears today. 

“It’s been a long time coming.” I say “But it’s official, he signed a new lease.” 

She nods in sympathy. “We’re here for you, whatever you need.” She says giving me a warm look. “Start with the onions.” she suggests with a smile. “That way no one has to wonder about the tears.” I laugh, what a sweet offer. 

Will I ever get over this? I wonder. This feels like the longest breakup in history. I just want to be better already. No matter what I do my heart feels splintered into pieces. I can’t think about anything but this. My emotions sway from heartbroken to angry to bargaining to grief. I stay at anger for a long time that day. I hate Kevin for asking me to stay his friend. I can’t fathom not being in love with him. How can I watch him move on with his life like that? It is difficult for me to say no to Kevin, that’s part of the hesitation. I want to give him whatever he wants but I don’t know about this. 

“I need to say something.” I declare as we sit down for dinner that night.  

“I’d like to hear it.”

I doubt that.  “I know that you’re very adamant that we need to continue a friendship after this. And I get it. In a perfect world so would I. The thing is I can’t see myself being able to move on while we’re friends. I just can’t imagine it. I really think I am going to need space to really mourn this before I can just have you in my life like that.”

“Really?” He says, sadness in his voice. “How long?”

“ I dunno.” I shrug and look away. “A year?”

“A YEAR!?” he shouts. 

 “Maybe.” 

“That’s so long.”

“I don’t know I am just guessing.” 

He stays quiet. And finally nods. “Okay Maria. I know I’ve been incredibly selfish to ask you in the first place, so of course I’ll respect that. Take the time you need.”

“ Thank you.” I say relieved.

“But if you could shorten it to a couple of months for me that’d be real swell.”  He says and smiles. 

I roll my eyes.

I can’t keep putting it off, it’s time for me to find my own apartment. I start my internet search and soon realize I won't be able to really look and choose if I want to get into a place in time of this lease ending. I waited too long, my options are limited. A voice in my head tells me I could just ask to room with Kevin so I can get more time to look but I scoff in refusal. That will not be happening. I imagine Kevin’s disapproving look at my continued nonacceptance of this breakup. His reluctant yes at having to keep living with his ex girlfriend, unable to start his new life. I pick the cheapest closest place I find and sign the lease without the option of looking at it first. Ah well. I think. That’s what hope costs you. 

 I decide that we will cut off contact once we are fully moved in to our respective apartments. It’s my decision to do this and yet I dread it. Seeing as I’ve been kicking and screaming throughout all of this, keeping him around as my friend would be an easier middle ground. But I am proud of this decision. I am taking the harder less pleasant option for my ultimate well being.  All the literature on breakups say that cutting ties is best so you can fully ‘withdraw’ from your partner and lose dependency. Kevin definitely feels like a drug. Apparently being with him even lights up similar parts of the brain. I am choosing the painful deliberate process of moving on. Although partially out of a fear that not doing so means staying stuck for the rest of my life. At the moment I can’t fathom a reality where I am not in love and desperate to be with him. I remind myself that there are enough examples of people getting over the ‘love of their lives’ to believe it’s possible for me. I’d do anything to know their secret. 

Time. Everyone tells me. It’s time. But I loathe that answer, I don’t buy it. Of course it’s time, but what do I DO in that time? I implore. That no one seems to know. Just live your life? There are certainly people who kept themselves pinning even after decades of time. I vividly remember a podcast of a man who pines for his high school love into his old age. “I thought about you everyday since I last saw you.” He told her once they were reunited. EVERYDAY. I can’t have this with me everyday. That is unacceptable. Doesn’t that prove that it isn’t just time that will work magic? I won’t say that to anyone though. Doing so will reveal the hidden fear that I will be stuck in love unable to move on. Instead I nod and try not to let them see my annoyance at their clichéd answer.  How do I heal? How?? I plead the universe to give me an answer. 

Finally it’s the night that I am fully moved into my apartment. Our lease has ended our new leases are signed and if there was any hope left within me it was wiped away when he helped me move the couch in. We plan for him to spend the night, our final rendezvous. As expected it’s lovely and sad. I am divided into the me that wants it to be over so I can start to heal and the me that wants it to never end. 

He is gone when I wake up. I search frantically for my phone and see a text:

Kevin: I love you. I’ll miss you so very much. You were my best friend and I’m so very sad to see us go our separate ways… I wish you the best of luck and I’ll always be thinking about you.

Here it is. I’ve been imagining this, writing this goodbye text in my head for months.

 Kevin I love you. My heart aches from your absence. I can only hope time and distance does it’s job and makes it so we can once more be in each others life. I thoroughly look forward to that day. Until then I hope you find joy. Thank you for loving me. He replies

 Thank you for loving me. Goodbye Maria. 

It’s beautiful and succinct. I close the phone and cry more endless tears. I’ve stopped wondering when they’ll stop, it’s a fruitless question.  I look around my new apartment, life feels empty and hollow, like the pain in my chest. I can’t imagine how I will fill the gap he left. I need to create something out of this I think and take a deep breathe, owning the weight of that responsibility. Maybe I dare dream something amazing.

[foxglove-and-fireflies]

Schizophrenia

Schizophrenia is many things.

To me, it is terrifying, enormous and all consuming.

But Schizophrenia is frustrating most of all.

I was recently diagnosed with Schizophrenia after an 'episode'. It's the second 'episode' I've had, and this one hasn't gone away.

The first time was in December of 2015. Stress in my life had been building for a while, and I felt thrust into a life I wasn't prepared to deal with. I was not mature enough to handle my life, not nearly prepared enough to manage the stress I had.

I was 19. I got married just shy of three months prior. I planned a wedding, moved into a house I never asked for (after spending my wedding weekend repairing it), and I was a full time student. Prior to my wedding I was working part time as well, but I quit after I felt too overwhelmed.

But it was December, and I was out of classes until January. I tried my best to be a 'good wife'. Wake up first, wish him well as he left for work, do laundry, make a lunch for him to take to work the next day, do the shopping, pay the bills, clean up after his aging dog, tidy up, welcome him home, cook dinner, mow the yard...

I did my best. I failed often. Many days I couldn't do everything, and some days I felt powerless to do anything. I went to my mother for advice and asked her "How do you be a good wife? I feel like I'm not enough. Should I get a job?"

My mother advised me that I should make it my job to be a good housewife and take care of all of the things I mentioned before, and that Bret was too good to me. She boasted about how good I had it, how good my husband was, and how I should be grateful for what I had been given. She felt I was ungrateful for my home, that I wasn't taking good enough care of it.

I left feeling more guilty about my failures and less clear about what to do next. I went to her unsure, hoping for encouragement and guidance, but I only felt more guilt.

The stress I felt got worse. The more stressed I felt, the harder it was to accomplish anything. The pile of dirty dishes felt like a monumental task. The laundry felt endless, like I could never catch up. I  would lie in bed, so anxious about not having the energy to fix my problems that I stopped sleeping. I stopped eating.

I stayed awake for almost four days, and ate maybe twice in that time. I knew I was depressed, but I didn't know how to reach out for help. It's not like Bret would have reacted badly; he was always supportive of me. All the same, I couldn't.

Thoughts of suicide began to creep in. What if? I wonder what people would think. What nice lies they would say about me at my funeral, and what terrible things they would say in private. How would they judge Bret? He'd be the young widower to the crazy woman.

These thoughts became intrusive. Slowly I realized this voice narrating the thoughts in my head was not mine. I don't know how long this persisted before I realized, but when I did, I was terrified.

I had no idea what to do about it. Should I keep it a secret?

I became distant, in a sense. Like I wasn't really there, like it wasn't really me in my body. I felt very far away, detached from reality. I lay laid on the couch one night, the voice inside my head terrorizing me. Taunting me.

"He knows," she insisted. "He knows I'm in your mind."

The voice echoed inside my head; It came from inside my right eye. I thought about gouging it out to silence her.

Bret must have noticed my distress, as he came to comfort me. He reached out to brush a hair from in front of my face, reaching right towards my right eye.

I slapped his hand. "He knows." the voice echoed again. I was shaken. I wanted to throw up. Bret didn't know what to do to help me either.

I can't remember how many days passed after that, or even if it was the same night. Bret had gone to sleep, and even though I couldn't, I joined him in bed to be a good wife.

"He likes me more." The voice taunted me. "You're weak, you know. He's going to help me."

I got up to wash my face. I stared at the person in the mirror, hoping to see something in my eyes.

"I'm going to steal your body. He's going to help me because he doesn't love you anymore. He likes me better; everyone will. Don't worry, no one will miss you. Everyone will like me better. So why don't you just disappear already?"

It was my voice, but stolen from me. My thoughts no longer mine.

I closed my eyes. "No, I don't want to die. You can't steal my body. I don't want to disappear! You can't take my body from me!"

I searched for a shaving razor. I could dig my eye out. I could get a blade and silence the voice, even if it meant dying. I had to silence it.

Then I realized something that changed my life.

I had a choice. I had one very important choice. Two options only. I could either kill myself right now in this bathroom, or I could get help.

I was so scared. Crying, hyperventilating, unable to see straight, collapsed on the floor, I was so tired. I had to die, or I had to walk through that door and tell Bret what was happening and ask for his help.

The voice was so loud. I struggled to think. I made my choice.

I stood up, I opened the door, and I screamed the only thing I could think of.

"Bret, help me! I don't want to die!"

I had made my choice. It was a bad night. I don't remember much afterwards. He went to the doctor with me, and I got on anti-psychotics. I was embarrassed and ashamed. The doctor gave my prescription to him, and told him to hide my pills. She told him to give me one every night, but not let me know where they were.

I was just a crazy person who wasn't to be trusted with anything. I felt awful.

But things got better after that. I started therapy, and I was scared of my 'diagnosis'. Schizophrenia? Clinically Insane? What would the Psychologist tell me I was?

Depressed. I was depressed, and stressed. I also had an underlying thyroid problem, which can make you hallucinate. I got on antidepressants and adjusted the dose. I worked through some things and built some coping strategies with my therapist.

I was doing so well. I was proud of my progress. I got a job working at a place I loved. I was becoming an independent person with friends and things I did without Bret. I faced fears, I tried new things, I had fun. He was happy for me and I was growing and maturing. Life was so good! Five years passed since I made my choice, and I was so glad I made it.

It only took one day for it to fall apart.

Or... maybe it was longer than a day. I can't remember anymore. Why can't I remember? It was less than two months ago. Or three? I can't remember, and I'm frustrated by it.

I wasn't particularly stressed. I mean, work is hard sometimes, and I'm always worried about something. I've been dealing with anxiety for years, but it was managed by medication, and I no longer needed therapy. I wasn't worried about anything in particular.

Until I was. Suddenly I was afraid. The suddenness of my paranoia also scared me. What was happening? Why did I feel this way? Why did it feel like a leech on my mind? I had no idea, and that only made things worse.

I began to lock all the doors in the house all the time. I would be stricken with the need to check all the rooms in my house because something was telling me to. I was scared of what I would find. I would open the door to the upstairs bedroom and peer into the darkness, waiting for shadows to move. Waiting for the movement to tell me someone was hiding in there. When there was no movement, I flipped on the light.

Nothing there, but my mind was not satisfied. No, I turned the light off again, waiting for them to appear in the dark.

Flick off. Wait. Flick on. Flick off. Wait. Flick on. Flick off. Wait.

Over and over, until I was at least somewhat convinced it was empty. Then I would move to the next room and do it again. I did this for every room in the house, and the closets, too. I knew this was tedious and pointless, but I couldn't help it. I had to.

After I had checked through the whole house, I would hide behind the curtains and watch the world outside. I waited again for movement, for something to validate my fears. I knew there was something out there, and when there was nothing, I grew frustrated.

Sometimes there was something. A figure, taller than my fence, staring at me. I could see it, but distorted. It was there and at the same time, it wasn't. Still, I stared at it, and it stared back at me. All the while I felt a sort of pressure in my mind. This wasn't right and I could feel it. Something was wrong with my brain, but I was helpless to stop it. Frustratingly helpless.

After a while, my husband asked me to come to bed. I tore my eyes away from the figure and went to bed. I locked my dog in the room with us that night.

I woke up for work the next day, and I was paralyzed with fear. I couldn't leave the house, and wasn't really sure why. I called in sick.

So I talk to my doctor. She is very kind and understanding, and prescribes me Seroquel again. An anti-psychotic.

Now, before I go on; I am not a doctor. I have looked this up out of curiosity, but I am not a doctor. This is my understanding of how this works, but have I clarified how much of a doctor I am? Because its 0%. Do not take my advice.

Seroquel works by blocking dopamine receptors in the brain, preventing excessive amounts of it which can cause hallucinations and psychosis. Dopamine is a type of neurotransmitter. Your nervous system uses it to send messages between nerve cells. Dopamine helps you feel pleasure, think, plan, focus, and find things interesting.

Seroquel has side effects. For me, it made me exhausted. All the time, with no letup. I was sleeping 20 hours a day. I lost so much time, and I felt like I was disappointing those who depended on me.

My husband, my work, my pets. Here again is the recurring theme of frustration.

Maybe you think I'm just being lazy; I should set an alarm and throw my feet on the floor and hop out of bed.

I wish I could, but I felt prisoner to the bed. I would be awake, and as I felt my medication begin to work, I would begin to feel a little drowsy. A few minutes of that, then I'd get a little dizzy, but I'd be okay. I'd keep working, or reading, or whatever. Suddenly it would wash over me, almost painful.

My eyes would blur, refusing to focus on anything. My stomach would tighten, pulling my head towards the desk. I could feel my temperature falling and my breathing slow. If I fought it, I grew nauseated.

It's like my body was in control of my brain; it was demanding I go to sleep. My brain would stop responding, and all I could think was "go to bed before you fall asleep right now." I was a hostage to the demands of the medicine.

So I would crawl into bed and sleep for hours. I'd wake up to my alarm; 12pm: time to take your next dose of Seroquel. Still groggy from the last dose, I'd put it off for an hour or two; I needed to eat, shower, and be alive for at least a little bit.

But I wasn't working. During this pandemic, I've been working from home. With my medication like this, I couldn't work. I was struggling to stay awake for 4 hours a day and I felt guilty about not spending those hours working.

When I am awake, I feel shielded in a way. I feel like something is protecting me from delusions, like I'm on the edge of a cliff with a rope holding me back from falling. I feel slower, like my brain just can't manage to access information that I know I have.

How old am I? Um…. … 23. No, 24? Yeah, 24. I think. I should know this.

The information is there, so why can't I recall it? Thinking becomes exhausting, trying to force myself to remember things and think through basic ideas. It feels like walking through mud.

So I started skipping doses. Yes, I know, mistake, mistake…

But I was doing okay! I was getting some work done, only sleeping half the day instead of the full day. I was feeling okay, too. Thinking a little easier. I was okay!

Until I wasn't.

I walk upstairs to take my meds (after having skipped a couple doses) and suddenly I don't know where I am.

Has the kitchen always looked like that? No, I don't recognize it at all. Why did I come up here again? Where did I come from to get here? Where was I? Where am I?

It was so fast. Panic set in in a minute or two, and I was so confused. Why was this happening? That dog… looks like mine. Sort of. Cheddar, is that you? No, that's not her!

"Bret..!" I call out, hoping he can hear me from wherever I am. "Help me!"

He replies "I'm in the bathroom." but I don't hear him. I don't hear him, so I'm convinced he isn't there.

I'm not in my house anymore and now I'm alone. Panic. What is going on?! So I begin to talk.

"No, no, no non ononono no nO NO!" I muttered to myself in disbelief.

I couldn't understand why this was happening. I begin to hyperventilate. I can't breathe. Is there air?

I'm suffocating.

I begin to scream, unable to contain the fear any longer. My cat walks up to me and I recoil, scared by the unfamiliar creature.

It takes me a bit to even realize that I'm screaming, and when I do, it only fills me with more fear. "The neighbors will hear me if I keep screaming, and they'll call the cops." I think. Maybe I said it out loud, I'm not sure.

"The cops will show up to see me screaming. They'll lock me up. They'll put me in mandatory psych! They'll kidnap me! I can't go! I'm scared to leave!"

My thoughts keep spiraling to worse and worse scenarios, so I force myself to stop screaming, returning to the muttering. "Quiet, quiet, quiet… you have… to stay quiet… or they'll come…." I mutter between heaving sobs.

I don't remember when, but I threw some things in my panic. My feet dug grooves into the carpet as they tried to push me farther and farther against the wall.

I look to my left and see a man standing there. When did he get there? Did he just say something to me? I thought I was alone in this strange place. Who is he? I push myself into a corner. Wait, that stranger looks like Bret, but why is he here?

I don't remember much else. Did I lash out at him, or simply pull away? I remember both, but also neither. He brings me to bed, checks all the rooms in the house for me, and gets me my medication. He brings my dog and helps me realize its her.

I am forever grateful for him. He is kind and patient, helping me as best he can. The next morning I am still shaken, the feeling still there, but milder. I call my med provider and change to Seroquel XR, which makes me less drowsy. I'm still working on getting used to it, and trying to find a schedule that works with it. I can't not take it.

So I log into work and hop on Zoom. Should I pretend I'm ok? Should I be honest and tell them how scary the world outside my bedroom is? My coworkers greet me with the normal "Morning! How are you?"

I'm not sure how to reply. I go between a generic "I'm ok, you?" and being a little more truthful "I'm not doing well."

Either way, I don't feel like myself. My brain feels like mud, and with the perpetual fear of the pandemic going on, It feels pointless to even be here. What does advertising matter? We don't even have product to sell right now, we're sold out. So why am I here?

But I push that aside, my mind too muddied to work through that. I float through the day, often sleeping through much of it.

But what other choice do I have?

I'm so frustrated.

[detectivejigsawpines]

If it’s broke, don’t fix it

While Stan is still recovering his memories, a moment of clumsiness brings back some particularly vicious ones.  It’s up to Ford to calm him down.

Ford was lost in his thoughts and his work.

This wasn’t an especially unusual state of being for him, by any stretch of the imagination.  In fact, it was oddly comforting for Stan to see him doing something so “normal Ford.” For the past three days, since the thingy happened that made him lose his memory, he’d been a tiny bit...clingy seemed like the best description.  Constantly watching Stan, clearly afraid he was gonna have another memory lapse if his expression became the tiniest bit blank, fussing over him with little or no provocation.

It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy it; honestly, after forty years more or less alone Stan was happy to receive any kind of positive attention, regardless of how pathetic that made him.  But he didn’t want Ford to wear himself out trying to make up for lost time together.

At the moment, his twin was down in his nerd cave, working on what looked like some kind of weird fancy compass thingy, when Stan brought down a plate of sandwiches for lunch and set them at his elbow.

The nerd jumped a little at the realization that he was no longer alone in the room, and blinked a few times before recognizing him.  “Oh! Stanley.”

“The one and only.”  Stan grinned, and gestured to the plate.  “Lunchtime.”

“Already?”  Another nonplussed blink.

He was holding a screwdriver in his hand; Stan snatched it, and placed a sandwich between his fingers instead.  “Eat. It’s turkey with avocado.”

Ford’s expression changed, the corner of his mouth curling up into a pleased smile.  “It’s been a long time since I’ve had real avocados.”

“And you like them, right?”

“Yes, I love them.  Thank you.”

Stan grinned; he loved it when he remembered tiny details like that.  Yesterday he’d given Dipper some spare pens he’d found in his desk drawer because he’d remembered that the kid liked to chew on them when he was thinking, and went through them like they were candies.  For an alarming second Dipper had looked like he was actually gonna cry happy tears; Stan wasn’t sure if it was from getting spare pens, or because Stan had remembered, or a little of both, but either way he’d made him happy, so he was pacified.

As Ford finally began taking bites of his sandwich, Stan examined his project.

“What’s this thing?”

Ford swallowed his most recent bite.  “Oh, it’s just a simple device for detecting weirdness fields.”

“Y’mean like the thing you said is surrounding this town?”  Stan reached out and spun one of the little arrow dials.

“Yes, but on a grander scale.  Say, seeing if there are places in other parts of the world-if I connect it to my watch, it should be able to locate other places filled with anomalous activity.”

“Whoa.”  Stan was impressed, but not surprised.  If anyone could build a doodad like that, it was his genius brother-

He pulled on another twirly arrow thingy, and it snapped off into his hand.

********

It was like his blood turned to ice.

No no no what did I do NO

“NO!  I’m sorry!”

Frantically Stan tried to put the compass arrow back on the spindle, even as his heart lurched in his chest and a little voice screamed in the back of his mind something that sounded a little like NOT AGAIN, and blurred memories began flashing in front of his eyes: a spinning machine with a thing on the front falling off, the indistinct blue of a television screen in a dark room, a sidewalk, dark curtains, a giant metal circle dark and empty with the knowledge that he’d FAILED, he’d FAILED again and he couldn’t go back to being alone please-

Faintly he could hear Ford’s voice on the verge of his hearing, but he didn’t bother trying to make out the words, not wanting to hear the rebuke because he would fix this, struggling harder to fit the arrow on the part of the compass it had come from, barely feeling a slight stinging in his hands and saying in a rapid mantra, “I can fix it, just hold on and lemme fix it-”

“STANLEY!”

Suddenly Ford’s hands were grabbing his, forcing him to drop the piece of equipment and pulling him away from the compass.

Stan thrashed, trying to get back and prove that he could fix it, that he wouldn’t screw this up for Ford again-but then his brother was grabbing his shoulders and ordering him to “Breathe, Stanley!  It’s okay, you’re okay, just breathe for a moment.”

“But-”

“Ssh…”  With unprecedented gentleness Ford pushed him into a chair, and sat down across from him, still holding his shoulders.

“Do you think you can try to follow my breathing?”

Stan nodded, numbly.

“Good.”  Ford did a long, slow inhale through his nose; Stan resisted for a moment, but then followed suit.

“That’s very good, Stanley.  Keep going, you’re doing fine.”

He repeated until Stan was no longer hyperventilating, and then said, “Stay here for a second; I’m going to get my med kit for your hands.”

Stan gave him a nonplussed stare as he got up; what was wrong with his-?

Then he at last registered the stinging pain in his palms and fingers, and the fact that there was blood on them.

Oh.

********

When Ford came back, bag in hand, he began cleaning and disinfecting the cuts.  For a moment they sat in silence aside from the sounds of Ford at work. At last, though, Stan whispered, “I can fix it.  I swear, I didn’t mean-”

“I know, Stanley.  Don’t worry about it.”

There didn’t seem to be any anger in Ford’s voice...but Stan felt like there was maybe some reproach.  His heart sank.

“I’m sorry!” he protested, hearing his voice crack almost as bad as Dipper’s.  “I know this is something you’ve worked really hard on, I shouldn’t have touched it like that-!”

“I’m not angry with you!”

Ford put his hands on Stan’s shoulders again, squeezing.

“Listen to me, Stanley.  I’m not mad at you. I was here, I know you weren’t trying to break it, and it’s not a big deal, it’s very easily fixed.  Okay?”

His tone was earnest enough that Stan believed it.  But something about his brother’s phrasing made him tilt his head and ask, “Who are you mad at, then?”

Ford chewed his lip, and went back to fixing up the cuts.  “...Myself. For being part of the reason that you’d get worked into such a state over a stupid mistake.”

He tenderly rubbed some cream into a long cut on Stan’s palm; it started to fade away even as he looked at it.

Stan tried to think of something reassuring or forgiving he could say.  But he’d tried taking all the blame when they’d talked about this before, and that just seemed to make Ford feel worse, for some strange reason.  All he could think of to do, when at last the smaller cuts had been healed up and the deeper ones bandaged over, was wrap his hands around Ford’s and squeeze gently.

Ford squeezed back, and gave him a half-hearted smile.  Then, after a few seconds, he picked up his sandwich again.

“...Tell me more about how this thing works?”  Stan indicated the project again.

Ford relaxed a little, and went into lecture mode.

And for the moment, at least, peace was restored.

********

One of my favorite kinds of sandwiches is a turkey-bacon-avocado with mustard and onions. The delicious sharp flavors all compliment each other in all the best ways, and the onions decrease my chances of being bitten by yellow-spotted lizards. Since I'm currently living in Texas, this is a particular danger for me.

[avenging-criminal-bones]

Family First

Spencer Reid x Reader

Word Count: 2171

Warnings: A typical episode of criminal minds, injuries

Summary: When a case leads back to your hometown, will everything pan out, or is it a bit rougher than expected?

* * * * *

It was 10:30 on a Saturday morning, your day off, when you got a text from Penelope, to start your day earlier then planned.

Hey superwoman, get your little booty to the BAU. This is a big scary haunting case. Hotch says all hands on deck… sorry about your day off.

You reply with a quick okay, and make your way to the BAU, most likely breaking a few speed regulations. What can you say? It sounded important.

You got there about 5 minutes after you received the text, and find that you and your long time crush, Spencer, are the only ones in the conference room besides Penelope and Hotch, of course.

“You weren’t prepared for this one, were you?”Spencer breaks the silence. Looking at your outfit, face and then your hair, smirking that super hot smirk that he’s got

You look at your outfit: black leggings, and a tee shirt supporting your favorite sports team, your hair in a very messy bun. You start to blush under Spencer’s scrutinizing stare, suddenly aware of you looking like you had just rolled out of bed.

Well, you had. But he doesn’t need to know that.

That’s when everyone started showing up, to begin the profile.

Penelope starts the brief. “Okay, my pretties, this one not pretty. Like at all. Or I guess I shouldn’t should say not handsome. All 7 victims were men between the ages of 20 and 35 and fit Spencer’s description. And had been drugged before being killed. Appearing to have had the drug chloroform in their system.” She starts the routine slideshow, not looking at it, “The unsub showed no mercy, he took his time with the last two men.”

Hotch says something, exactly what you were thinking, “This killer is unorganized and doesn’t seem to show remorse. And the fact that he took more time with the last victims, suggests that they were surrogates and that eventually he will go after the person that the killings prepare him for.”

“That, and notice how there are lacerations and burn marks on every victim’s back? I think the unsub may have a facial deformation, probably creating his lack of confidence to kill the men with them watching.” You say.

“Good observation Y/N, also since the unsub used chloroform before kidnapping the victims, he may not be strong enough to use force, therefore having to use creative methods to kidnap them.” After Spencer says good observation, you start to get butterflies in your stomach. He complimented you, and that are you happy. Well as happy as you can be while working a serial murder case.

“This is a time sensitive case, we will continue on the jet. Wheels up in 20. We’re headed to Palo Alto.” When Hotch says the last part, he looks at you, almost apologetically.

He knows your background, the reason you because and FBI agent. He knows how your mother was killed be Clyde Hoodsen 12 years ago. And how Clyde’s accomplice was never found.

And he knows your dad still lives there.

Spencer knows too, but they’re the only ones. He grabs your arm when you turn to get your go bag, holding you back.

“Will you sit with me on the jet Y/N?”

Not really wanting to talk to anyone, you nod and turn to leave.

On the jet you sit in the secluded corner seat that only fits two people, that way Spence can sit next to you.

When he does, the first thing he says is, “Are you okay?”

It was in that instant that the reality of how much you actually liked Spencer; loved him even. You answered him honestly. Spilling so much to him, because you feel safe.

“No, Spence. I’m really not. Losing my mom almost killed me. I was beyond depressed for 3 years after her death, and the fact that this unsub could be Hoodsen’s accomplice… It breaks me Spencer. I can’t lose my dad too, I just can’t. And I know he doesn’t fit the MO, but I’m scared.” Your voice breaks on the last word. You started crying during the first sentence.

Spencer takes one of your hands in one of his, and uses the other to bring your chin up to look at him.

Using the same hand to he used to lift your head up, Spencer wipes away your tears.

“Text him, Y/N, tell him to stay in the house with the doors locked. And tell him to text or call if anything happens, okay?”

“Okay.”

He gets out of the seat, but only long enough to get you your phone for you. Mumbling a ‘thanks’, you text him everything Spencer told you to, ending it with an ‘I love you, be safe’.

The plane lands in Palo Alto, and you feel unsteady about the entire thing. And it doesn’t help that you get a call right when the team gets off of the plane.

You see the caller ID and answer on the first ring.

“Hey dad, Are you okay?”

“Y/N, come to the house, hurry!”, your dad sounds panicked. You look for Spencer to make eye contact, but he’s talking to JJ.

“Bring Spencer. You trust him right?”

“Yeah dad, I do I’ll be there soon!”, you wipe your eyes, for you had started crying in the middle of that.

You run up to Spence, crying. Again.

“Spence, my dad… he called… he needs… Spencer?!”

He just pulled you into him, trying to get your hyperventilating to subside. And to keep that rant that he foresaw at bay.

“I’m coming with you, Y/N.”

“Okay Spencer… Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Spencer takes you to Hotch and talks lowly about something, but you can’t hear them.

The grabs your hand as the two of you make your way to the local police issued sedan. He makes you drive, much to your dismay, and protests.

“Spence, I don’t think I’m in a good place, mentally, to drive right now.”, you say, trying anything to not drive.

“Y/ N you’ll be fine, we will help your dad. I promise.”

“Don’t say anything about promises. My mom promised me that she would always be there for me. And where is she now? Six damn feet deep. People can barely make promises about where they’re going to dinner, let alone if you can make a promise about saving someone’s father. I mean so many thing could go tota-”

You’re interrupted my Spencer’s strong arms pulling you into yet another hug. He shushes you to stop the inevitable rant.

You quickly agree to drive, realizing how urgent the call sounded, and get into the truck. Driving to your old home, you pass a lot of stores and houses that bring memories.

The ice cream shop that your dad took you to every Sunday, or the park that you broke your first bone at.

It was your finger. You were playing in the grass, and you cartwheeled into the play set. When you fell you rammed your hand into the metal support and broke your pointer finger on the left hand.

You got to the house in about 4 minutes, and started shaking. So much so, that Spencer had to turn you away from the house to get you out of your trance.

“Hey, he’s going to be fine. Only .03% of crime victims are ever injured. And I know, that sounds like a lot, but that’s only because our place of work groups all of the murder and the pain and misery into one place. That place, will NOT be your home. Your father, will not get hurt today, Y/N.”

That should have made you feel better. And it did. Until you heard a crash inside your home.

“Oh my God, Spence!”, you say it, but too quietly him to hear seeing as you are already out of your car and to your front door. You had your gun pulled out, with Spencer copying you a few steps behind.

The unsub changed his MO. He made it personal to you. What are you gonna do? Apparently nothing, because the man pulled you and Spencer inside, and started yelling.

“Put your damn guns down! Now! If you don’t, pops over here will be eating a bullet for lunch!”

You and Spencer share a look, but comply with the man’s orders. After you set your guns on the ground and he takes them, he forces you to kneel.

You kneel on the floor of your old kitchen, tears threatening to spill onto the hardwood floors. This was not how you thought you’d see your dad next.

“You, the boy. Get in that chair.”

He looks at you and you shake you head, not wanting him to go. But he does. And the man ties him up, leaving you to sit and watch as the two most important men in your life are tied up and held at gunpoint.

“What do you want,” you say to the unsub, as he circles your father and Spence, a menacing look plastered on his face.

“I want you to choose, Miss L/N.”

“Choose what?”

“Just choose one of these men and I’ll let you know if you chose for them to live or die.”

You are not surprised that an unorganized unsub would want you to play a game like that, but it still caught you off guard. You look at your father; scared out of his mind. And you look at Spencer; who is all too familiar with being in situations like these. It sounds bad, but you almost wish he didn’t know what to do. When you look at them, both broken in different ways, all of your resolve, all your calm, is gone.

It takes everything you have not to start crying, but one warning look from your father and Spencer, makes you subdue the feeling. You make your decision and say it as calmly as you can.

“I choose myself.” Your voice never wavering, you make the decision to attempt at switching places with them.

You speak again, “I won’t let you hurt the only two people in the world that I care about with the entirety of my being, and if that means that I have to take their place, then I will.”

“Ah. You are so much like your mother. You know, when Clyde killed her, she was just as stubborn as you’re being right now.”

You visibly stiffen at the unsub’s words. Tensed up as if you were going to lunge at him. Apparently, Spencer noticed as well because he sends you a warning.

“Y/N, careful.”

When Spence speaks, the man hits him with the barrel of the gun, not knocking him out, but leaving a deep cut on his forehead and earning a pained grunt. As Clyde’s accomplice is preoccupied with Spencer, you get up and jump forward in an attempt at getting the gun away from him.

Failing, the man shoves you to the ground and lets off three shots. One of which, hit you in the stomach, making you let out a muffled scream. Right as you are seeing black around the edges, about to slip into unconsciousness, you see Hotch cuffing the man while reading his rights, and you see Spencer and your dad both crying, rush over to you.

The last thing that you felt, was a hand interlocking itself with yours. Probably Spencer’s. And a voice that you unmistakably recognize as your dad’s saying:

“I’ll be here the whole time, Y/N. Stay awake, stay with me. Talk to me! Keep your head up, slugger!”

And with that the darkness invites you in, and you accept the request.

Later you are in the hospital, hooked up to all kinds of tubes, with 3 nurses bustling around running tests. You open your eyes and the first thing you see is your dad.

“Hey, honey. How are you feeling?”

“I’m not sure yet, but I guess I’m not dead so that’s a plus. Wait! Dad, how did I not die? I got shot in the stomach. It didn’t hit any organs?”

You realize it’s awkward to talk with the breathing tube in your nose, so you go to take it out.

“No, Y/N, leave it, it’s helping.”

You look up and see Spencer leaning against the doorway to your room. He has a small bandage over his stitches.

“Spence!” You are about to get up to go to him, but he doesn’t let you. You hear your dad mumble something about being ‘more excited to see your boyfriend than you father’ and how it’s ‘rubbish’.

Spencer engulfs you in a warm hug, making sure not to hurt your stomach.

“The shot just barely missed your kidney. You Miss L/N, are a very lucky woman.”

“Yeah I am. Now that I have you here, Spence.”

The two of you share a kiss, and just sit there, in each other’s arms for what seems like eternity.

It was the best eternity of your life.

[the19thduckpotato]

The Ties That Bind Part 7 (MHA Fanfic)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

In which things get extra fluffy and Inko has her say.

"...Dad?"

Toshi's eyes widened at that and for a moment, he forgot to breathe.  His heart nearly burst with feelings he couldn't describe.  Feelings that ached, but what an ache.  An ache that bespoke of a desperate need to be wanted.  An ache on the verge of being fulfilled ...but he teetered on the edge. I don’t deserve it. But I want it. Please. Please I want it very much. Does he mean it? Am I ready for it if he does? He took Izuku's face in his large, dangerous, protective hands:  "...is...is that what you want?"  His eyes searched for any hint of denial, terrified of finding such but needing to be absolutely sure. Izuku's eyes were quickly filling with tears. His limbs felt weird, like his skin was buzzing-- kind of like when he'd had way too much coffee. Adrenaline? Am I scared? What am I scared of? That he didn't mean it after all. All he could manage was a whisper. "...Do you?" Do you want me? For real and for always? As... as your son? The word suddenly felt so big. A position he may never be able to properly fill. But I'll try. I'll give it all I've got! ...If you really, truly want me.... Is it possible? Part of him couldn't believe it. You know how much I've failed you. The other part looked at the events of the past two years, at the long days and the late nights and the help with big things and small, at the reassurances, at the complete forgiveness for seemingly any mistake he could make that left him in awe, at the hair ruffles and the Very Stupid Puns and the times Toshinori just held him while he cried At the events of the past night, at the indescribable fury only brought out when someone wants to harm what lies at the core of your heart At the irrefutable, unignorable fact that Toshinori was here, right now, cradling his face in his hands and looking at him with so much hope and fear and love And believed.

"Of course."  Tears welled up and he let them.  Then, apologetically:  "it could be dangerous, you know."

He closed his eyes, letting two fat tears spill over, and leaned his head forward, connecting with Toshinori's forehead again. Shaking hands came up, carefully coming to rest on Toshinori's face, just like he was doing for Izuku. "...So is everything." The world isn't safe. I could get hit by a bus tomorrow, and then where would we be? "So is... Not." He shrugged slightly. He would still come for me. Would still come for you. He hates us, both personally and what we stand for. "And even if it were the only thing that was..." Izuku smiled, big and wide. Voice warm and absolutely certain. "Worth it."

And now he was laughing, joyful laughter that bubbled up from a heart that swelled to absolute fullness.  And now he was crying, rivers running down, gratitude immeasurable and almost unbelieving that he should be gifted rather than punished for the deeds of the previous night. And now he was sobbing laughter and giggling tearfully as he pulled Izuku close, arms about him not too tight, don't scare him. Was it real or imagined, that shadow of a smile cradled by raven hair?  Something broke open within and a new strength rose up. Same DNA. Same Quirk. Same goal. We're family in every sense of the word. He knew it was a double edged sword.  He wasn't sure if he was making things better or worse for his boy--his son. He trembled as he held Izuku.  Not out of fear but from the overwhelming power of emotion flooding through him. "And so long as this battered form draws breath, I'll protect you with everything I have and am." He drew back and brushed a tear from Izuku's cheek.  "Maybe even beyond that.  You've...  you've seen me in One for All.  If I can, if I'm able, I'll fight for you there as well."

Izuku nodded and tried to reply, his smile now drenched in tears, but all that came out was a weird noise. He tried again, but found the same result. Then gave up on it, burying his head against Toshinori's shoulder and nodding again. Gripping on tight for dear life.

Toshi rested his head atop Izuku's, tears quietly running down, smile true and honest. "I'm here.  I'm here because you were here.  And are here.  And will always be here." I love ya, kid.

"Uh-huh--!" Izuku nodded again, still clinging and crying. "Love you too--!" The words were mixed in with high, gasping noises, different from the distressed cries of earlier. A vague thought in the back of his head warned him that he might be in danger of hyperventilating if he kept this up for long, but he brushed it off for the time being.

Toshi froze for a moment, his eyes comically large.  He resisted the urge to hold Izuku out at arm's length.  "Whoa, hang on a sec, sorry what??"

"Y--" gasp "--you said?? That??" He sniffled loudly, stopping hugging with one hand to scrub at his face. "A-aand I agree--" sniff "--with it... and so I sa-aid...." Another squeaking sob came out almost of its own accord. Izuku smacked his hand onto his chest in an effort to stop it from happening again, unfortunately aware that he'd now cried so much from various reasons that it was now going to be rather difficult to quit. "--And so I said it back...."

"Hey, easy now... breathe for me." Did I....?

"Y--y-eah, hang on--" Izuku hiccuped and coughed roughly, smacking his chest again in annoyance. "I'm working on that," he croaked. "Hang on--" He tried taking a gulp of air and holding his breath, cheeks puffed out like a frog.

"Uhm, speaking as a newly dad'ed dad," Toshi said...then blinked in fond amazement. I rather like the sound of that! "What should I be doing, exactly?"  He watched Izuku with equal parts curiosity and mild concern.

Eh, Izuku thought, sitting back a bit and trying to communicate his thoughts with his eyebrows and hands while he held his breath. He did a 'so-so' wiggle of his hand for 'Eh'. Not much to do. I'm okay! He pointed to himself, then gave a thumbs up, crinkling his eyes for a smile while his mouth was still puffed up. He turned away a bit and let the lungful of air out, coughing. Then turned back and have a silly grin with the thumbs up, saying with a slightly rough voice, "I'm good!" As a newly... what should... do? What... oh no, what's gonna change?? He was suddenly intimidated by everything a father could tell him to do, like go to bed at a certain time 'and no playing games on your phone, young man!' or tell him to finish his thick stack of homework before doing anything fun or eat liver which basically tastes like smooshy brown chalk with extra bitter added in, and he'd have to do it all, and absolutely immediately and without arguing at all, precisely whenever he was told to do it because you had to obey parents, and not doing something when they told you to was disobedience, and disobedience was bad and wrong and and oh no, I can't even talk to him freely anymore, what if I say something rude by accident and  it means I'm talking back, what does that mean? Is he gonna be mad at me? Have I lost the capability to say things and ask things that I would have if I hadn't asked him to call himself Dad? Is he going to try to punish me? What's he gonna do, I don't even know what his parents were like or what he thinks is a good punishment for a child, and now I've just let myself in for all kinds of crazy new rules and things I'm not allowed to do that he's just now going to be figuring out, and what if he goes kind of overboard at first, I wouldn't blame him with how new everything is but I'll still have to follow all of them and I don't even know if I CAN, he was a lot like a father before and that was good, why did I have to go and mess with a good thing, now everything's different and I don't even know it it's gonna turn out okay, what if the increased authority just makes him upset with how careless and reckless I still am when I should be being a Good Son and he's telling me to do better but I'm not, what's gonna happen now-- He realized he'd been staring in the vague direction of the mattress for a while. He looked up, clearing his throat and smiling apologetically. "As a... newly-dadded dad..." he motioned in the air. "What would change?" he asked lightly and casually. "I mean, I really liked what you were doing already, haha...." The sheepish smile widened, his eyebrows furrowing a bit. "What, ah..." he let his expression turn more serious. "What were you thinking about that?" Tilting his head, he looked up at Toshinori. Waiting to see what his new life would be like.

Toshi looked a little lost.  "O-oh," he stammered.  "I meant... for... you looked like you were having trouble there and I wanted to help and..." He trailed off and looked awkwardly to one side, revealing that his ears (usually lost in the explosion of his hair) were turning an interesting shade of red. "I don't..."  his eyes flicked anywhere but Izuku, hoping to find the answer the kid wanted to hear.  Realizing he was stalling too long and in essence answering Izuku by that, he turned back to his kid; the embarrassed  flush started to streak across his face. "If that's good enough, if that seems right, then I'll trust your judgment.  I don't really have much experience with--" Opposite of Master had  been her closest friend, Gran Torino.  A gruff man, stubborn, difficult to please.  If she was the mother he had always wanted, he was the father that Toshi never wanted to be like.  He was sure Gran Torino had a good heart buried in there somewhere but Toshi was too scared of the man to really find out.  And maybe he had calmed down since;  Izuku had seemed to like him ok.  But Toshi still didn't care for Gran Torino's methods.  He wasnt sure if fathers were supposed to be like that; all he knew is that he didn't want to be like that.  Granted, his training under the Jet Hero had only began after Nana died so perhaps he had been altered by her death and-- Like son, like dad. Toshi blinked --  "I think I just pulled an Izuku" --then gazed at the kid.  In that gaze, a very young, pre-All Might Toshi looked out: a little shy, a little scared, and a lot of I have absolutely no idea what I'm supposed to be doing but I am going to try. "--i don’t really have much experience with parents.  Myself," he added the last word in a low whisper. The flush blazed across his whole face now.

Izuku gazed back, the vulnerability and openness in Toshinori's eyes making his breath catch in his throat.  Then blinked, looking down, embarrassment at having asked the wrong question at the wrong time making his cheeks flush pink. "I... I don--" Why are you trusting MY judgement on what a dad's like? "I mean I only have the one, so." He shrugged, then suddenly looked back up. "And she's good! So good, I-- I'm not-- I'm not dissing her or anything, I just...." His voice got quieter and quieter as he kept talking, fiddling with his fingers and looking farther and farther down. "I don't. Know. What a dad's like either." Not for years. Why were his hands shaking? He stared at them. "But this--" He looked up, voice still soft. "This is good." He nodded, carefully reaching his arms out and pulling himself closer, resting his face against Toshinori again. "This is good," he whispered.

He tousled his son's hair again.  "To tell ya the truth," he murmured.  "I haven't the faintest idea what a dad is supposed to be like, either." Everything I learned, I learned from her.  So...does that make me a mom instead?  He chuckled softly at the thought. "You seem to be turning out well, from where I'm standing.  And I have no idea if that means I'm already doing good as a father figure or being the worst example possible."  He thought again to Gran Torino, the only example of a father he knew of.  Winced.  Not like him.  No matter how well meaning it was. "So why change what we know is already working?"  He grinned down at the kid, brimming with pride and love. Mine. I'm so glad I chose you to pass my legacy on to.

Izuku nodded and grinned. "Sounds good." He stayed where he was, clinging to his mentor... father. My dad. ...Woah. His hands were still shaking. "...I'm scared," he whispered, incredulous laughter bubbling up. "Wh... hahha-- why?? I... it just...." He shifted a bit, but still kept himself pressed against his father, gaining and giving support. "...Wow. That's big. That's a big thing." More breathless laughter, the air being knocked out of his lungs with every moment he thought about it.

Toshi rumbled pleasant laughter, more felt than heard as it shook his slender frame.  "It's a pretty big step.  But nothing you cant handle.  Hey," he added with a comical pout, "are you saying you're more nervous about this than when I first offered you One for All?"

"Hah!" Izuku lifted his head and grinned up at Toshinori, smile so bright it was crinkling his eyes. "Yeah, we can do it! And, ah, well..." For an instant, his face fell slightly as he remembered what it was like to accept One for All. Learning about it and thinking 'this is my purpose, like a destiny from a storybook.' How he knew that those often ended with heroic sacrifice, and accepted that immediately with 'if I die, I die.' ...But that doesn't always happen, he thought hopefully. Sometimes people live, and things are happy at the end. "Well, I didn't have to think too hard about that one." He crinkled his nose. "It was... something I could give my effort to do, and... either I could do it, or I couldn't." He shrugged, somehow ending up staring at the mattress again. "Living as a person is different from living as a mission. Harder." Did that just come out of my mouth? His eyes widened slightly. I did Not plan to say that.

Toshi drew one hand away to scratch at his throat reflectively.  "Living has proven.  Interesting."  More rumbled laughter.  "Unpredictable.  Exciting.  But it's easier when you know you've got someone waiting for you." His gaze adopted a faraway look, hand paused in midscratch.

Izuku leaned his head against Toshinori again, smiling softly. "Mm. Yeah."

Toshi draped an arm about his kid, knowing Inko would be arriving soon to take her son. But this moment was his. Was theirs. He held on to it like he held on to his kid.

Izuku breathed deeply and shuddered from pure emotion, too much to hold. ...Wow....

The door burst open and Toshi jumped guiltily.  He regretfully broke his grasp on Izuku and scooted away as a tearful Inko ran in, her arms wide open. "Oh my baby!" she wailed, fear and relief mixed in her trembling voice.  She took Izuku's face in her hands, kissing his cheeks, his forehead, all over his face, just to make sure he was really there and actually ok.

Izuku jumped and spluttered as Inko burst in and started raining kisses on him, eventually laughing and relaxing a little bit. "Hi Mom...." He grinned widely, but still squirmed and flailed anyway. "Heyyyy! Ticklessssss!!"

"Let me look at you!"  She stepped back and fussed over the bandages--"your ankles!  Sit back down, get off them!"--then inspected him for bruises--"why, there's barely any here, they said you were all sorts of colors!"--and finally brushed his messy mop of hair. Beside them, Toshi tried not to shift or draw any attention to himself.  If Inko noticed, she gave no sign. "Oh Izuku, let's get you home and into some normal clothes!  Your bed is freshly made and I'm ready to cook whatever you're hungry for, ok?" She tried a watery smile then dissolved into a storm of tears.  "Oh b-b-baaaabyyy!!" she sobbed.  "I was so scared for you!"

Izuku smiled softly, closing his eyes and saying quietly, "I'm okay, Mom." He put a hand on either side of her face, trying to comfort her. I will not cry, I will Not cry again!

Toshi for his part felt extremely awkward and, wanting to give them some privacy, tried to veeeeery quietly s c o o t. His way. From. The room. "Stop right there, mister." Oshi-- She hadn't even turned around.  Her hands were still soft and nurturing but her eyes glittered dangerously. Toshi froze in mid-stride, eyes wide, not even daring to look at Izuku now.  A very tiny "meep" might have leaked out.

"Mom." Izuku's voice was soft, and a bit sad. He moved a hand from the side of her head, placing his fingertips on her cheek instead. Look at me. "No."

"Izuku," she replied in a stern tone.  "We had an agreement.  An understanding."  Her chin quivered at his touch and more tears ran down to meet his fingers.  "He was supposed to keep you safe, remember?" One finger jabbed in Toshi's direction and he started to hunch down between his shoulders. "You were so supposed to be careful!" Inko continued, anger giving way to fear for her child.  "You promised!"  She gripped his hospital gown at the shoulders as her head sank against his chest.  "Baby, you promised me..." Toshi stared at his feet, twisting one bang between his long fingers.  He couldn't meet Izuku's eyes.

"I know," Izuku whispered. "And I'm sorry." I truly am. "But it's not his fault." His hands brushed over her smooth hair. "He protected me. He saved me. He didn't even know I was fighting at first, that was all me. I didn't even..." He growled at his own lack of foresight. "I didn't even call for backup when I should have." He bowed his head, remembering the desperate call sent out almost too late, addressed to any hero who could hear him. Temporarily forgetting that I had a comm link in my mask set didn't help... oops. "But when I did, he came for me. He helped me." Izuku wrapped his arms around his mother and hugged. "Please don't be mad at him...."

((to be concluded))

[eepwritesstuff]

In His Arms || BMC

TTW: Major character death. If this may trigger you, please do not read this! (if it won’t, I promise it ends okay.)

Jeremy POV:

I feel my eyes snap open and my breathing get fast. A scream forces its way from my throat, without me even knowing why. What... happened last night? All I remember is...

Fire. Rich. He... he set a fire. My own screams, desperate, trying to escape the blaze. And I had... Failed?

No. That doesn’t make sense. Surely, I’m alive, and I got out. But... That’s not what I remember. I remember being burned alive, my skin burning, the smell of burning and melting skin wafting to my nose until the pain became too much and I passed out.

Had I stayed there? If so, there’s no way I was still alive. So... The question stood. Where was I?

I sit up and see... Michael’s room? And there’s Michael, laying on his bed. He’s wearing his shirt from last night, but he has tear stains on his face. I feel really guilty. I hadn’t meant to call him a loser. I was just stressed, and scared, and I lashed out.

I walk over to him and try to wake him up. “Hey... Michael...” I whisper, shaking him. But my arm went through him. Oh. Oh no. OH GOD, WHAT WILL I DO?

I CAN’T BE A    G H O S T.    I CAN’T BE DEAD.

As I panic, Michael slowly wakes up, groaning miserably. I wave my hand in front of his face. “Michael, please, you have to hear me, you have to be able to see me, please, I’m so sorry, just see me, please see me-” I beg, but he doesn’t hear. Instead, he slowly gets up and turns on his phone. I sit next to him, hyperventilating. 

As he turns it on, he’s bombarded with notifications. All about last night, the fire. He immediately looks it up on google, seeing the articles and posts. He lands on a news article and reads through it. There’s a list of the people claimed by the fire. He scrolls through, seeing name after name. Richard Goranski. Jake Dillinger. Dustin Kropp. Madeline Cornfeldt. He stops when he sees a certain name, gasping and whispering, “No...” And, there it is. Jeremiah Heere.

He starts shaking, pulling his knees up to his chest as tears well up in his eyes. “No, no, nonono... This can’t be right, please let this be a joke, Jeremy can’t be” his voice cracked. “Don’t let him be- he’s gotta be okay. He’s always been okay. He’s always been there. Don’t let him be gone, foreve-” His sobs cut him off as he breaks. As he’s breaking, I am too. I’m dead. I never got to tell him. I never got to apologize. The last thing I said to him before- I called him a loser. All he has now is that memory, over and over, and I can’t do anything.

He sobs for hours, inconsolable, and I’m right beside him. I’m sobbing, and so is he, and there’s nothing either of us can do to help each other.

Eventually, our tears stop. He pulls out his computer and begins typing frantically. I look over his shoulder. He’s looking up something on Google, and he’s muttering stuff under his breath. Stuff like, “C’mon, c’mon...” and “It’s gotta work...” I look at what he’s looking at. It’s a website... About SQUIPs? I thought there’s no information about them online? Well, apparently there is, because Michael’s looking at it. Specifically, the protection measures that SQUIPs use to protect the host body. Apparently, they stop at nothing, even self destruction, to keep the host body in tact. It explains all the cases in which the host, and the SQUIP, were found dead, but the body itself was perfectly intact. Protecting the body like this uses all of the SQUIP’s capacity and ultimately kills it, but the body stays perfectly in tact. I’m confused as to what Michael is planning on doing with this information. Of course, I can’t actually ask him, so I just sit here and wait as he researches for hours on end, not even eating.

Now, it’s around 3 pm, and his stomach growls. he ignores it and keeps working. “JUST EAT, ALREADY. YOU DON’T WANT TO DIE, TOO!” I scream, in frustration.

He sits straight up, eyes wide as he frantically looks around the room. “J-Jer?” He whispers, hope in his voice. I try to respond. “Michael, yes, I’m here! How did you hear me?” His expression drops as he shakes his head. “I’m losing it, he isn’t actually here. I mean, c’mon, Mell. This isn’t Apocalypse of the Damned, there’s no spectator portion after you die. He’s gone. But he doesn’t have to be. Just get back to work.” I narrow my eyes at him, even though he can’t see me. He can’t die, he doesn’t deserve to. At this rate, he will within a few days, out of exhaustion and lack of food. I try again, focusing everything I have on saving Michael. “Michael. I’m not joking, go eat now. Please, you can’t die too...” His head shoots up again, and his hands shake. “Jer... You’re here? How? Are you okay?” I try doing what I did last time, but it’s difficult. “I’m here. Don’t know how. I’m sorry.” Michael’s lip wobbles and a tear rolls down his cheek. He hastily wipes it away, letting out a watery laugh. “Heh, sorry... I just- I thought you were lost, for good.” I can’t help it as a tear runs down my own cheek. I force out more words, already exhausted by the effort it takes. “Missed you. It’s, uh... Really hard to talk, though.” My voice wobbles, and we both know why, but he kindly doesn’t mention it. He nods. “Understandable. Guess I have to go get food now, huh?” I nod in response, even though he can’t see. He sighs and stands, groaning and stretching. He then walks towards the door, and I follow, feeling satisfied.

After he eats a good meal, we both go back upstairs to his room. He gets back on his computer, now looking into people at our school who might practice... necromancy? Oh, Michael... Wait. That could actually work. My body is still in tact, and if somehow, dark magic works, I can... I can live again! I mean, weirder thing have happened. Y’know. Supercomputer, and all. I feel hopeful, for the first time since I woke up like this. Maybe I won’t be stuck like this forever. I don’t just feel hopeful. I feel ecstatic. I don’t even notice, but I start glowing. I don’t notice, until Michael is suddenly looking at me. “Jer? Is... Is that really you?” He murmurs, swallowing hard. Tears brim his eyes as he stares directly at me. “Wait. You can see me? Holy shit. Hi.” I say, feeling stupid, but also I’d missed him. He smiles widely, his tears rolling down his cheeks. “Yeah!” He sniffles. “Hi. I miss you, like... A lot.” He uses his fist to roughly wipe away his tears. ”Yeah... Sorry, Micha. I should have- I shouldn’t have taken the SQUIP, I should have talked to you, I should’ve gotten out-” Michael cuts me off. “No, Jer, don’t blame yourself. Don’t you DARE blame yourself.” He shakes his head frantically. “It’s not your fault, okay? I can’t hear you blaming yourself. We’re gonna fix this, okay?” I nod, feeling a lump in my throat. “Yeah. Sorry. Thank you, for everything. You’re... Really amazing, Michael.” A tear rolls down my face. “What was I supposed to do, just leave you d-” he whispers, as if it’s taboo. “dead?” He gives a weak smile. “Besides, it’s a two player game, right?” I bite my lip. “I ruined that, though, Michael. I left you behind.” He shakes his head. “No, you didn’t. I get it, really. I just want to get you back. I want to hug you, and look at you without seeing through you.” I nod. “Yeah, a hug sounds... really, really good right now.” I feel a pain in my chest, but I sit next to him as he grabs his computer and keeps researching. 

Eventually, my glow dims until I’m barely visible, but I’m still here. Michael works hard researching, with the occasional witty comment, which always earn a laugh from me. He smiles every time, like he’d never get tired of my laugh.

After hours, he smiles widely. “EUREKA!” I jump. “Wait- REALLY?” my glow starts up again, brighter than before. He nods. “Yeah! Jer, we can bring you back!” I smile, hope running through my veins again. “Oh, Michael, I- how will I ever repay you?” He shakes his head, still smiling. “No, Jer, don’t repay me, really. Just having you okay again will be enough for me.” I smile, feeling tears prick my eyes. “God, Micha. I’m gonna give you the biggest hug, as soon as I can.” Michael smiles. “By my best guess, that would be tomorrow!” I grin. “I can’t wait.” I feel myself getting choked up and I sniffle. Michael’s gaze softens as he looks at me. “Hey. It’ll be okay, Jer. This whole nightmare- it’ll be over soon.” I nod, trying not to cry for what must be the hundredth time these past few days. “Y-yeah. Thanks. God, Micha. It’ll be over. I-I can’t believe it. I- Thank you.” He gives me a sideways smile. “Anything for you, Jer.” I meet his smile with one of my own, trying to suppress the feeling in my chest. Not now.

The next day, we go to the site where the fire had been. We’re both quiet as wee see the place where so many of our peers, including myself, lost our lives. Michael clears his throat. “Uh, do you know where you would... where you, uh... were?” He says awkwardly. I know what he means, so I nod. “Uh... Yeah. Follow me.” I walk through the rubble, retracing my steps. That night... I had come in, talked with Brooke, blown up at Michael... I had gone to try to find a quiet place to break down; I felt bad because of how I’d treated Michael, but I didn’t want to see him cry. I figured that I’d have forever to tell him, to apologize.

I find the room I had been in when the fire started. I push down the tears that are threatening to come to my eyes. It’ll be okay, Michael is gonna fix it. I remind myself. Michael starts digging through the rubble, trying to find my body. He tries to hide it, but I hear his breathing get rough and he starts to cry as a brown curl appears in the rubble. He digs more off of my body, sobbing at this point, and it takes all of my resolve not to vomit at seeing myself. My own dead body. I rush forward and put my arms around Michael. Even if he can’t feel me, I just want him to know I’m here for him. He swallows heavily and hugs my- dirty, but otherwise perfectly fine- body. He sits there for several minutes, just crying and hugging my body. Sometimes he whimpers, but he mostly just cries and holds my body close.

Eventually, he picks up my body and brings it to the car. He lays it down in the back seats and I sit in the passenger’s seat. He climbs into the driver’s seat and takes a deep breath.

“Look, Jer, I know that, like, you’re here and all... But that was honestly the worst thing I’ve ever had to do, and I hope to God I never have to do anything similar ever again. Just... Seeing your body, but you’re not in it, and I know you’re not. It hurt, a lot. Like, worse than anything you could’ve done while you were alive.” He speaks, staring out the windshield. I nod, trying to level out my voice before I speak. “Y-yeah. I’m sorry, Micha. I know you don’t want me to apologize, but I really am so sorry. You’ve been put through so so much, and I hate that you have to deal with any of this, when I can’t offer much comfort. I can’t give you a hug, I can’t put my hand on your shoulder, I can’t hold your h- I can’t, uh, grab you a slushie...” I trail off, flustered from my weak attempt at covering my blunder. Michael gave a weak smile. “Hey, it’ll all be okay. In just an hour, you will be able to do all of that stuff. I’ll hold ya to it.” We give each other small smiles, kindly ignoring the other’s tear stained face.

An hour later, we were back at Michael’s house, and my body was lain on his bed. Michael washed its- my?- face with a wash cloth, wiping away the soot and dirt. He also put it in new clothes, considering mine from that night were dirty and partially burned away. He still had some of my things from when I’d slept over and left things, so he put my body in one of my old Star Wars shirts, a pair of jeans, and a blue cardigan. After all of this was done, he gulps, looking towards me. “You ready to be alive again, Jer?” He asks. I nod frantically. “Yeah, pretty ready, Micha.” He gives a small chuckle and begins on the spell. He says some words I don’t understand, and my ghost-self starts to dim. I feel myself being pulled into my body. He says some more, and I turn invisible again. He speaks some more, and I’m in my body. Wait. I”M IN MY BODY! HELL YEAH!

I snap open my eyes and sit up, not prepared for the overwhelming rush of vertigo that it causes. “MICHAE- ow...” I hold my head. Michael rushes forward. “JEREMY! Oh my god, dude! Wait, are you okay?” I nod, blinking hard. “Yeah, just a little... disoriented.” I open my eyes and look him in the eye. My eyes start filling with tears. “God, Michael, I-” I fling myself at him, holding him close. He quickly hugs back, sniffling. “You’re okay.. Oh, thank god, you’re okay, you’re here now, this is you again.” I smile, feeling tears roll down my face. “Yeah, it’s me. Th-thank you. I love you so much, you know?” He stills before nodding. “I love you, too. When I thought you were gone, I just- I didn’t know what to do. But you’re okay now, and I can hold you again and it’ll be you...” I nod, just feeling his embrace and welcoming it. We’d have time to iron out what we were and everything else, but for now I wanted to just feel safe, and warm, and loved, and happy. Here, in Michael’s arms.

[awkwardsinner-blog]

~Break Down~ Shawn Mendes x Reader ~

Warnings - Swearing(?), Mentions Of Anxiety, Financial Issues

Requested - Yes or No

A/N - Please if mentions of anxiety are triggering for you, do not read this. I personally deal with anxiety, so I wrote it based off of my own personal experience. Also sorry if my writing is shit, it’s hard to put the actual feeling into words. 💞

~~~

Being a college student was hard already, but struggling with financial issues just made it worse. Working two jobs, long shifts, left me barely no time to get my school work done. Which made me begin to fail. Constantly worrying about money made my stressed, constantly worrying about school made me stressed. The looks the students would give me, sometimes it was even the teachers. Lectures all day, writing all day, then working the rest. Let's just say all nighters were my best friend, who would constantly talk behind my back. I've always been a worrier, and some days I would just snap. Crashing down on the ground crying, hyperventilating, freaking out. The feeling is indescribable. My family being in another country, not having enough support from them, you could guess why it came crashing down every once in a while. I traveled to Canada to focus on my studies, some of their programs are amazing, just the city was constantly busy. Getting to school would take a hour, so I decided to get a dorm. It was paying for gas or paying for a dorm, and well I chose a dorm. Probably one of the worst decisions, because dorms are very expensive here. I had a horrible weight on my shoulders, causing me to ‘burn out’. Being ‘burnt out’ for me was horrible, constantly getting no sleep, breakdowns on the regular, being unable to focus. But, I had one little light, Shawn. We had been dating for a little over five months now, it started with long distance, and when I was moving to Toronto he was ecstatic. Sometimes Shawn made it harder though, it was another thing to add to my already busy schedule, yet I’d do it. He’d help me with studying, and also it was nice to rant to someone every once in a while. Now, I didn’t tell him about my money issues though, I wouldn’t want him to worry as well, so I’d always make up stupid excuses not to see him sometimes, even though he could see through them half of the time. Shawn was amazing and I couldn’t ask for someone better, but it was exhausting, I couldn’t go anywhere with him (even if I had the time) without him being recognized, then we decided to keep private, it was truly for the best. So, college is a major struggle for me, but it was just going to be another part in my life that I had to get on with.

~~~

I made my way up to the teachers desk slowly, wondering what my mark would be this time. “Maybe ten? Maybe five? Maybe even zero?” I thought to myself, the teacher handed me the paper with a disappointed look on his face, I already knew I did crap, it was obvious. I quickly scanned over the paper, thirty percent? Maybe those study sessions with Shawn were paying off, in some cases. Before I walked away I heard the teacher call my name, “Y/n why don’t you stay after class with me?” He said kindly, it was obviously not a suggest but rather a nicer way of stay here, “yeah sure,” I replied, then walked back to my desk. He talked for the rest of the class on the test coming up next week, it was dead silent, I began to write down the details, definitions, diagrams, text book pages. When he finally finished, I had almost fifty things down, “class dismissed!” He said then clapped his hands together. I began to gather my things and put them into my backpack, finally with my coat in hand and backpack slung over my shoulder I made my way down the steps over to his desk. He went through some of his papers for a minute, then pulled out my grades for this class. He turned it around and made me looked at it, “You were in the eighties Y/n, what happened?” He asked. Now I wasn’t about to go ahead and tell him about me working two jobs, the all nighters, being burned out, no, no, no. “I uh,” I stuttered, “I just don’t get some of the concepts,” I said. Yes it was true but, if I actually had time to study, like I did before, my grades would be fine. “Okay well study them more, ask me questions, focus, stop staring out the window.” What was a nice chat, turned into him going off at me, “okay, okay!” I cut him off, “I get it, just please don’t raise your voice,” I said, “yell? Seriously? It seems yelling is the only thing that will actually get it in your head,” anger so obvious in his voice. There was a moment of silence, he was becoming stressed out because of me, “sir I’m sorry, just I’m under a lot of stress, and,” I tried to explain, he suddenly pointed towards the door. “That is incredibly immature of you,” I said sternly, then left the classroom. It felt like someone was hitting my chest, it felt as if I was gasping for air, reaching and reaching, yet failing. I began to walk faster to my dorm, occasionally bumping into people. Tear began to well up in my eyes, at any moment it felt like they could spill, it was as if I was holding a too full glass, and if I spill it I will get yelled at. My hands shaking and sweaty, I held them close to my chest. It felt like everyone was looking at me, weird expressions being sent my way. Finally I reached my dorm, I quickly pulled out my keys, and unlocking the door. Luckily my roommate was off on vacation, which was amazing right now. I shut the door behind me, sliding down against it. Holding my knees close to my chest, shaky breaths escaping my lips. I slowly rocked myself back and forth, gripping tightly onto my shins. My eyes fluttered closed, I rested my head on my knees, and tried to relax. I lost track of time and was pulled out of my little world by my phone ringing. My eyes lazily opened as I reached over to get my backpack, I slipped it out of the front pocket, it was Shawn. "Hi," I spoke quietly, "hey hun, how are ya?" He asked cheerfully, “I’m fine, you?” I replied, “I’m good, I got to sleep in for once,” he chuckled at his comment, “that sounds nice,” I sighed, “is something wrong hun?” Shawn questioned. So many things are wrong. “No,” I lied, “Y/n I can tell you’re lying,” Shawn spoke softly. I felt tears begin to well up in my eyes, the stress pushing down on my shoulders, a tear slowly trickled down my cheek. I sniffled as I wiped it away quickly, “where are you?” Shawn spoke up, “I’m just in my dorm,” I stuttered, “alright I’ll be over in five.” He said. I felt guilt, he shouldn’t have to deal with my issues. “No Shawn, I wouldn’t won’t to bother you.” I protested, Shawn sighed, “Y/n you could never bother me.” My heart fluttered, I felt a bit better. “Okay,” I said quietly, “do you want me to stay on the line with you?” Shawn questioned, “no, I’m fine.” I replied, “m’kay, I love you,” Shawn purred, “I love you too.”

~~~

I sat on my bed, legs crossed, staring at a photo of Shawn and I on my bed side table. Nervously twisting the bracelet on my wrist back and forth, leaving a small red line around my wrist. Shawn gifted me the bracelet on our second date, he called it “a token of my appreciation,” I could clearly remember how flustered I was, both of our cheeks a bright red, Shawn’s darkened when he slipped it on my wrist. I promised him I would wear it everyday, and I have not broken my promise. I looked over out the window, watching some people occasionally walk by. The sound of my door opening broke me out of my trance, I quickly turned my head, watching as the person entered the room. Shawn walked in, hair messy, in a black t-shirt, and joggers. He had a look of concern the moment his eyes met my own. I felt a wave of emotions hit me as I looked into his brown eyes. Tears began to roll down my cheeks as I got up off the bed, I quickly went over and hugged him. My hands shakily held onto him, I cried softly into his shoulder. Shawn rubbed small circles on my back, holding the back of my head sympathetically. After a while of being in each others embraces, Shawn lightly pulled away so he could look at me. My teary eyes met with his, he seemed concerned. “I’m sorry, your shoulder is soaked now,” I mumbled, Shawn chuckled softly, “I love you so much,” he purred. He pulled me in for a small short kiss, our lips only against each others for a few moments. He slowly wiped a tear off of my cheek, he smiled slightly. “Go lay down,” he whispered, I nodded in return. Slowly breaking apart from his embrace, then going to lay down on my bed. I rolled onto my side and watched Shawn. He locked the door, picked up my bag hung it up, and began to gather some of my dirty laundry. Shawn was so kind, gentle, and empathetic. He was perfect to me, despite some of his quirks, which I still find perfect. Shawn eventually came over and sat down, slowly running his hand up and down my side. We stayed there in silence for a moment, I slowly sat up and faced him, Shawn turned as well. “I-” “if you don’t want to explain you don’t have to.” Shawn cut me off, I looked up at him and weakly smiled. “Shawn,” I whispered as I reached up and cupped his cheek, “I love you so much, and I, I need to explain.” I said softly. I brought my hand down, and took his in my own. “I’ve been struggling with some things,” I paused for a moment, “I’ve been having money issues, I work two jobs, I’m constantly taking extra shifts, I have no time for school, and I barely have time to see you.” I began to explain but stopped myself because tears started to roll down my cheeks. Shawn reassuringly squeezed my hand, he placed a soft kiss on the back of my hand. “I just feel so guilty, I feel bad for you, Shawn we barely see each other.” I continued, “Y/n, I don’t need to see you to know the love that I have for you.” Shawn expressed, “and if your having money issues, I wish you would have told me, you could have moved into my place. I’d happily help you study, I’d drive you to school-” “but I can’t ask that of you Shawn, that is just too much.” I cut him off, “it’s not too much for me Y/n. Just move in with me, I promise, it’ll be so much better.” Shawn took my hands in his, “please I want to help you, not because you’re my best friend or my girlfriend, but because I love you.” He assured. I felt another tear roll down my cheek, but unlike the others, this one was of happiness. I nodded happily, “okay,” I said then pulled him into a hug.

[harryseyebrows]

Gryles, Harry’s just found out he’s preggo, they’re together but it’s not planned, harry is happy but nervous nick won’t be. How does he tell him?

okay. so i finally got around to doing this/finishing it. here’s 2.3k of a rough edit, lightly proofread by yours truly. i hope you like it!

Harry uses his key to Nick’s flat to let himself in.

The groceries he picked up on the way over are still in the bags, sitting on the kitchen counter. He can’t even bring himself to put the milk away.

There’s a heavy weight sitting in his chest, making his ribs feel like they’re all going to crack and spill out his guts for everyone to see.

After over a week of near-constant nausea, he finally made an appointment to see the doctor. So just a couple of hours ago, Harry was sitting on crinkly paper and asking why he’s gained almost half a stone since his last visit four months prior. A simple blood test gave him his answer.

He forced himself to hold it together in the office, politely declining the doctor’s offer of a cup of water when she told Harry he’d gone pale.

“I’m fine,” he said, and started to laugh, a nervous habit.

Dr. Clarke had put a gentle had on his shoulder. “Is this news surprising?”

“Very,” Harry blurted. He took a deep breath and clarified. “Not… bad news. Just wasn’t expecting it. At all.”

“It happens more than you think. You have a partner, correct?”

Harry’s palms went clammy at the mention of Nick. “Yes.”

Dr. Clarke’s mouth had twisted, her tone careful. “Will he be supportive of your decisions? When you tell him?” The unspoken, You are going to tell him, right? hung in the air.

Nick loves kids and babies. And he loves Harry. But Harry let himself fall into a pit of doubt, wondering whether or not Nick would love those things in tandem. A baby with Harry. Their baby. They just-- they haven’t planned for this. Haven’t discussed it, ever.

Harry can’t part with this little life they’ve created, only nine or so weeks along and the size of a cherry, according to a Google search he did in his car after leaving the office. Nick is entitled to feel however he wants, but Harry just has to tell him first, which feels like such a Herculean task and all Harry really wants to do is crawl into Nick’s bed and nap for a week.

His baseline lately has been feeling slightly nauseous, but there’s a new layer to it now, perched on the edge of Nick’s sitting room couch with his leg bouncing without his permission, picking at his cuticles even though he’s tried to break the habit. For the past year, this has felt like his home more than his own apartment, but he currently feels like a stranger, like there’s a fist around his stomach, squeezing and making him feel ready to vomit.

A baby. He’s going to have a baby.

Beside being ill -- morning sickness, he realizes now, though it seems to be more all-day-sickness -- he doesn’t feel that different. Prodding at his lower belly reveals, well, nothing. It feels exactly the same, despite his weight gain. When he was getting ready earlier, he didn’t think he looked any different either, no obvious signs in his face. His skin has been a bit trickier, though, more oily and breaking out more often. Perhaps “the glow” comes later, or Harry is destined to be a slug for this entire pregnancy.

He can’t quite wrap his mind around it yet, that he’s really pregnant. He wonders when it will start to feel real. For now it’s just a concept, something that seems so far away.

Two months in already, though, his brain helpfully supplies. That’s-- only seven months left, then. So many days of passed without him realizing what’s been at stake here. Weeks of ignorance and carelessness. 

His panic increases, thinking back to the things he might have done in the past two months that could have hurt the baby. Alcohol seems like the obvious one -- he’s not a huge drinker, but surely he’s had a glass of wine or two lately.

He starts going down the list of things that he knows are bad for pregnant people, things he’s learned from friends and family. Secondhand smoke. When is the last time he had sushi? Caffeine; he just had a large iced coffee this morning.

The next thing he knows, Nick is squatting in front of him. His mouth is moving but Harry can’t hear what he’s saying. How long has he been here? How did Harry not notice?

Harry is distantly aware that he’s hyperventilating. Time feels like it’s moving excruciatingly slow and too fast at the same time. This probably isn’t good for the baby, either.

The baby. Harry has to tell Nick about the baby. Their baby. Half Nick’s, because they fuck without condoms all the time and Harry has never been the best about taking his pill.

Nick looks really worried now, big hands on Harry’s shoulders, still talking. Harry thinks he can make out, “What’s wrong?” from the way Nick’s mouth is moving.

“I’m gonna puke,” Harry says, surprisingly coherent.

The fog lifts a bit and Harry can hear again, blood still pumping loudly in his ears. His stomach is doing flips in his abdomen, though.

“Bathroom,” Nick says, pulling Harry up and guiding him quickly down the hall.

As soon as Harry’s knees hit the tile floor, he’s retching into the bowl. Unlike his morning/all-day sickness, nothing comes up, but his body doesn’t quite get the memo, because it’s nearly five minutes of gagging and spitting -- the decidedly unsexy kind -- before he gets a moment of reprieve.

Nick has been rubbing his back the entire time, offering assurances and being characteristically kind, soft words filling up the room over the noises of a person being violently ill.

After another round of fruitless heaves, Harry feels safely in the clear when his organs stop trying to evacuate themselves.

While Harry flushes nothing but saliva and toilet water, Nick asks, “Did you eat something bad?”

Harry shakes his head, slumping back against the wall.

Nick looks weary. “It’s not a bug, is it? Because I love you dearly but I don’t fancy getting a virus.”

“Not a bug,” Harry says, voice rough and scratchy. He can’t look Nick in the eyes, afraid that he’ll know right away, know that Harry’s hiding something.

“What’s the matter, darling? I walked in and you were already upset. You scared me.”

Harry’s eyes start to sting, lower lip wobbling precariously. He’s always up for a good cry after vomiting, but this takes a new precedent.

“You’re gonna be mad at me,” Harry manages to say in between useless sniffles. His cheeks are already wet, nose on its way to being clogged and snotty.

“Why would I be mad at you?”

“Because you are.” Harry chokes on a sob. It makes Nick wince.

Harry can tell that Nick’s caught between genuine concern and annoyance. Which is fair, Harry thinks, considering that he’s not cooperating very well.

He’s just so nervous, can feel his stomach getting upset again, because he knows he has to tell Nick, and even though it’s not a now or never type of situation, it’s the right thing to do, to tell Nick why he’s crying and almost-puking and basically a basket case right now.

“Harry…”

Once Harry starts talking, he can’t stop. “You’re gonna hate me and break up with me and I’m gonna let you, even though I don’t want you to do that, because I don’t like doing things by myself. I just understand why you’d be upset about it, because we haven’t talked about it before but now it’s happening and I don’t know what to do. I feel sick all the time and Google told me that it can get better but sometimes it doesn’t and so many other things can go wrong, and I think I’ve already fucked it up somehow because I had a martini at dinner the other night -- from that nice Italian place we went to? And none of my clothes are gonna fit and--”

“Harry. Harry. Slow down, Jesus.”

“But--”

“Shh. You just said a lot of things. At a rather brisk pace, might I add. Just tell me what all of this is about.”

Harry would rather pay to have a giant billboard put up than force the words out of his mouth. He wants to shake nick and say, Don’t you understand? Do you really want me to spell it out?

A fresh wave of tears start.

“Oh, hell. Don’t cry.”

“Sorry,” Harry hiccups. “I-- I can’t help it.”

Nick sighs. “And stop bloody apologizing. Just talk to me. I promise I won’t be angry.”

Harry eyes him skeptically, trying and failing to suppress his spasming diaphragm.. “Promise?”

“Pinky.” Nick offers his finger and Harry links it with his own, his hand shaking.

All of the adrenaline in his body seems to ease the passage of the words as he makes himself say, “I’m pregnant.” He feels comfortably numb. Perhaps his body is trying to protect itself. Protect the teeny tiny little baby it’s housing.

The world doesn’t cave in on itself. A bolt of lightning doesn’t strike either of them. Nick barely even reacts, his face giving nothing away. He just stares at Harry like he’s trying to see behind his eyes, look into his brain and figure out if it’s a joke or not.

Harry wants to crumble under the intensity of it, but he stands his ground. Well, his slump, rather. He’s still quite tired from all of the day’s stresses. And now he’s probably all blotchy and gross because he’s still crying.  

It feels like days before Nick responds.

“Pregnant, eh?”

“...Yes.”

“Like, how pregnant? On a scale from one to ten.”

A puff of air passes through Harry’s lips in an approximation of a laugh. “A ten? I think.”

“Hm. That sounds fairly pregnant to me.”

“I’d say,” Harry says tentatively.

“Reckon I know who the other father is?” Nick asks, the smirk on his face a dead giveaway that he has absolutely no doubt that it’s him.

Harry isn’t sure if he should be offended or not, that Nick is so certain but still feels the need to joke. “It’s you, arsehole.” Harry is smiling anyway, the drying tears on his face making his cheeks feel tight.

He feels sort of silly now, for freaking out as much as he did. While he’s certainly not in the clear yet, Nick isn’t acting like he’s ready to run for the hills or kick Harry out and demand that they never speak to each other again. If anything, he looks… happy.

The crinkles around his eyes that he desperately tries to cream and serum away are out in full force, a grin taking over his entire face.

“What?” Harry asks.

“Nothing. I mean, it’s exciting, innit?”

Harry has to clarify. “So you’re really not mad?”

Nick looks cross for a moment. “Of course not. Don’t know why you thought I’d be.”

“But-- we never discussed it. I thought-- like, this definitely wasn’t planned, and I don’t know about you but I’m scared out of my head right now.”

“Just because it wasn’t planned doesn’t mean it can’t be a good thing. Though I suppose I’m gonna have to make an honest man out of you yet. Do you want to wear the dress or shall I?”

Harry scoffs. “Thanks. Real romantic, Grim. Marrying me out of obligation.”

“That’s peak romance.”

“No, peak romance was me getting knocked up and not even realizing it at the time.”

“Which reminds me, how far along are we?”

Harry unconsciously brings a hand to his belly. “Nine weeks.”

Nick taps his chin thoughtfully. “Nine weeks… After Alexa’s party, you think?”

“Could’ve been. Doesn’t really matter, though. Baby’s in there now.” Hopefully to stay, Harry doesn’t add. He can’t think about that possibility right now. 

“Well, at least this explains why you’ve felt so shitty lately. Right?”

“Right.” Harry agrees. His butt has started to go numb from being on the floor so long. He moves to stand up but Nick interrupts him.

“Hey, whoa. Easy there.”

They both seem to have more limbs than they know what to do with on a good day, so there’s a lot of bumping into each other and stepping on toes while Nick tries to help Harry up.

“You don’t have to be weird about it, Nick. It’s not like I’m immobile.”

Nick holds his hands up. “Okay. Just trying to make myself useful.”

“You’re plenty useful. Too useful, I think. You’re dick is going on lockdown, by the way.”

“What?” Nick squacks.

“You heard me.”

“Why? It’s not like you can get more pregnant.”

“Not taking any chances.”

“Fine. You’ll only be punishing yourself.”

Harry rolls his eyes. He still feels a bit shaky from everything, like he needs a tall glass of water and a lie down. He says as much to Nick.

“All right. Two things on the docket, then. Get you good and hydrated and then have a cuddle. I think I can manage that. I’m knackered meself. D’ya want tea? Can you even have tea? Because I was gonna suggest some tea and biscuits, which I’m sure the biscuits are fine but I feel like caffeine might not be the best thing for a developing baby.”

Harry can’t help but laugh. “Decaf. Which we’ll have to get-- shit. Groceries. I bought groceries earlier and I never put them away.”

“Three things on the docket. For me at least. Let’s get you a drink and you can get started on Love Island. I’ll join you in a bit.”

Harry considers arguing, but knows it won’t get him anywhere. So he accepts the cup Nick offers him, peels back the duvet on Nick’s bed, changes into comfy clothes and gets settled.

It’s nice listening to Nick mess about in the kitchen, unpacking the things Harry bought for them. The occasional loud noise and the subsequent “Shit” that Harry can just barely make out.

Things are likely to get harder in the coming months, but for right now, Harry is pretty okay with how things are, all things considered. Today could have gone better, but it’s done and over. Nick is happy and so is Harry.

[wayward-marvel-sommer1196]

Spiraling - Part 2

Pairing: Jensen x Reader; Jared x BFF!Reader

Warnings: Self harm, depression, suicidal thoughts, suicide attempt, mental illness, mental disease

Word Count: 3142

A/N: This has been written for a long time just needed a little bit added to the end and some editing. I also want to say that there will be multiple parts to this so rest assured this is not the end. No beta keep that in mind. REMEMBER suicide is a permenant solution to a temporary problem. Please reach out if you need help.

Summary: Did Jensen get to you in time? How will things change? Will you be okay?

Masterlist - Spiraling 

"J-Jay?" you said more as a question than anything.

"Y/N, sweetheart, thank god. Where are you? Are you home?" Jensen said with concern laced in his voice.

"Yeah, I'm home. Look Jay I -"

"Y/N, please, don't say what I think you are. I got your text. I know you better than you like to think sweetheart and those words, as nice as they were, weren't you. Jared and I are on our way now we are like five minutes from the house. Please, I love you too, just hold on till I get there, okay?"

You nodded your head and sniffled. "Okay. Can you stay on the phone with me? I don't trust myself alone, Jay." The tears started to flow again.

"Of course, sweetheart. I'm right here. I'm all yours. Talk to me."

"Jay, I'm-its-I don't know what to do."

At that moment Jared looked to Jensen silently asking if he could say something, not wanting to interrupt you two.

"Hey Y/N, is it okay if Jared says something?"

You nodded.

"Look bug," Jared said using the nickname he gave you after a year of knowing you. "I know it's really hard, especially when it feels like the darkness has taken over. I know you're thinking it would be easier to stop fighting and just let your inner demons win. You know I understand what you're going through, but I need you to know that it's not you that's actually thinking that. It's your head playing tricks on you. It's the depression talking. You are stronger than that, I know you are. Jay needs you to fight Y/N you know he will be a wreck without you. Hell, I need you to fight. I need my best friend to talk things through with when I can't go to my wife and need a female opinion. I need someone to knock some sense into me like you always do when I get out of control. Jay and I both need you in our lives Y/N we love you too much to let you go. I know this isn't going to just go away but I need you to let us help you fight every day, okay?" Jared said.

You didn't know how to respond. Jared meant a lot to you but never in a million years did you think you meant that much to him especially after he met Gen.

"Bug, you still with us?" Jared asked.

You wiped your tears and took a deep breath. "Yeah, yeah Jare, I'm here. I'm so sorry guys. I'm so so sorry," you tried to apologize.

"You have nothing to apologize for sweetheart. Look we are pulling up now I'll see you in a minute," Jensen said as he hung up.

You just put your phone down and looked down at your wrist that now had a line of blood that worked its way down to your fingertips. You looked at the blood in disbelief. Were you really seconds away from killing yourself? At that thought you began to sob heavily again and that's when Jensen came through the bedroom door.

He went to the ensuite and grabbed a wet and dry rag. He came over to where you were in the bed and crouched down in front of you. He grabbed your arm and began to wipe the blood with the wet cloth as he began to speak to try and calm you down.

"Y/N, sweetheart, look at me. Please?" He pleaded, and you obliged. "There are those beautiful Y/E/C eyes. I need you to calm down okay? Take a few deep breaths or you're gonna hyperventilate okay?"

You looked into his beautiful concerned green eyes and nodded. You took a few deep breaths while Jensen grabbed the dry cloth and wrapped it around your wrist. You steadied your breathing and looked at Jensen again.

"Jay, I -"

"Sweetheart if you are going to apologize again, don't. I don't blame you for this. This isn't something you can control. I know that. Just, why didn't you tell me it was getting this bad?"

"I thought I could push it down and forget it, but that only worked for a couple days. I -"

“A couple days? You have been feeling like this for a couple days? Sweetheart, I could have helped you.”

"No, Jay you couldn't have. You were working, and I didn't want to burden you with my problems. That's one of my issues I feel like I'm failing in this relationship because I can't be as happy as you are no matter how much I want to be. I'm not as beautiful as most of the other women you have dated. I mean I would know I've met them all. You dated freaking Danneel Harris for crying out loud. She's literally a model. I can't compare to that. Not to mention I can't seem to get a job to save my life and I'm just a disappointment. I don't know why you keep me around. I'm worthless. I tried to freaking kill myself how pathetic is that? On top of that I couldn't even do that right."

"Y/N, stop!" Jensen yelled. "Jared can you come in here please? Y/N look at me right now, I'm sorry I yelled but when you say awful and untrue things about yourself like that it upsets me. For starters you are not a burden and as much as I love my job, you come before that. I would quit if I had to if it came down to picking between you and Supernatural. As far as the other women go, yeah, they were different from you, but you want to know why none of them ever worked out?"

You nodded your head urging him to continue.

"They didn't work out because they weren't you. Sure, they were beautiful, but the love wasn't there, not like it is with you. And you know what, I think you are gorgeous. I always have even when you had braces, wore glasses, and had that god-awful haircut in the sixth grade. Y/N I've been in love with you for most my life I just didn't think you would feel that way about your drama geek best friend. Ask Jared if you don't believe me. When I first met him and introduced you two he teased me relentlessly."

You looked to Jared to confirm what Jensen was saying, not that you didn't believe him, but you just wanted confirmation.

"He's not lying Y/N this guy has been smitten with you since I met him. I think about a week after I met you both I asked him if y'all were dating because that's how you acted, and he just laughed in my face. If you're questioning the love in your relationship don't because I assure you it's there. And if it means anything I also think you're gorgeous and that's coming from a married man so there's no worries that I'm lying to get in your pants or anything," Jared said trying to lighten the mood a bit which worked as a small smile graced your face.

Jared stepped away to open the blinds and then went into the ensuite.

"There's that beautiful smile I feel in love with. Sweetheart as far as the job thing goes I couldn't care less. You could remain jobless for the rest of your life and I would be just fine with that. It changes nothing. I enjoy taking care of you actually and love having you all to myself when I'm on hiatus. I don’t want to share you with a job."

Jared came back out of the ensuite with your first aid kit. He walked towards you and Jensen got up to sit next to you while Jared crouched in front of you. He pulled out some antibacterial cream and bandages. He put the cream on your wrist and wrapped the bandage around your wrist.

"Bug, you need to stop internalizing all of this. It will swallow you whole if you let it. You have to talk it out with someone. If you don't want to talk to Jensen, then you have me, or if that doesn't work you have Gen. I know I haven't known you as long as Jensen has but I have known you for the last 12 years and have claimed the best friend slot since you started dating this guy, though if we're being honest you're more like my sister. I hate seeing you this upset. I hate hearing you say those horrible things about yourself. You are not worthless Y/N, far from it in fact. You were the main person that helped me when I was having a rough time. I don't think I would have made it through without you. You help keep me and Jay in check when we start acting like children. And you are there for Gen and my kids when I can't be there and that right there is everything. Tom and Shep love their auntie Y/N and baby Odette will too. You make all of our lives, especially Jensen's, so much better. So, if you were going to fail at anything in life I'm sure as hell glad you failed at killing yourself. Even though you can reason with yourself that no one will miss you like I have Gen and Jay has me and the show or whatever, none of that will replace you. Obviously, I love Gen and my kids, but like I said you are like my sister and losing you would kill me and it would damn sure destroy him. You could forget about Dean Winchester because if you were gone Jensen wouldn't leave this house. So, you are not a disappointment, you are not worthless, you are loved, and you are needed. Don't let the darkness win when you are nothing but light."

The tears were already falling. This man was like a brother to you, more than your actual brother anyway. His words meant everything to you and since you weren't able to form words at the moment you grabbed and pulled him into the tightest hug you could muster.

After a minute you let go and kissed his cheek and whispered a thank you into his ear. He got up and excused himself into the living to give you a moment with Jensen.

You turned to your boyfriend of two years and kissed him with a vigor like never before. You let go when you needed to stop for air. You leaned your forehead against his with your arms around his neck.

"Jay, I'm a mess, mentally, emotionally, and psychologically. I know this is not exactly what you signed up for when we started dating but I would very much like it if you stuck around. I need help with this. You know my family, they mean well, but they make things worse. Obviously, handling this alone isn't working, since I almost made a very permanent but stupid decision today. You wanna know the only thing that stopped me?"

Jensen nodded pushing for you to continue.

You put your hand on his cheek and said, "You. When you Face Timed me, your picture came up and looking at those green eyes changed everything. I need you Jay. I need your help with this. You and Jared are probably the only two that can help. You are the love of my life but above all you have been my best friend since forever and we have been through everything together so can you stick around for one more thing?"

"Sweetheart, that's not even a question. Of course, I'll help you. Of course, I'll be here with you. Of course, I'll support you and do whatever you need. But I won't stick around for ONE more thing. I'm going to stick around for everything. You have seen me at my worst and have scraped me of the ground and brought me back to reality I think it's my turn to return the favor. You are my best friend yes, but as the moose out there said that position has another taker. I'd much rather you be my girlfriend and maybe one day my wife."

You blushed and looked almost shocked at this confession. Jensen looked dead into your eyes as he said this with a nervous grin but a face of seriousness.

"Y/N, I have been in love with you since we were 8 years old, since before I even knew what love was. The reason all the other girls were the type they were was because I was trying to bury my feelings for you. I thought that if I chose something completely different than the awesome, fantastic, beautiful girl I was infatuated with, that it would be easier. But alas, it never was, especially since we spent like every day together and when we weren't together we would at least call. So, I guess my point is it has and will always be you. You could be some hobo on the street that's 600 lbs. with scraggly hair and wreak of garbage and I'd still pick you over someone like Danneel."

You chuckled at the thought. "Really?"

"Well, maybe I'd throw you in the shower first, but after that yeah." He took his hand and brushed the few hanging strands of hair behind your ear and just looked lovingly into your eyes.

"I'm calling Danneel and telling her that you'd pick a hobo over her," you said with a smirk.

"No, that's not what I said - wait you still talk to Danneel?”

"Yeah I mean she's cool and I mean y’all’s split was amicable. We're not like best buds or anything but we occasionally chat, and she says she's glad we finally got together."

"She always did think you and I should be something more."

"Well I guess it makes me feel better that you fell for me before I fell for you."

"What? When was it for you?"

"Well I mean, I've always loved you, but when I realized I was in love with you was when we were 13. You took Jessica Anderson under our tree and kissed her. I was so pissed. At first, I thought that it was because it was our spot and you took her there, but then when I saw you kiss her the next day at school and got the same feeling, I realized it was because I wanted to be the one you were kissing."

"Honestly, I only kissed her to try and make you jealous. I asked Josh what to do to get your attention and that was his advice. Since you didn't react I just assumed you didn't feel the same way."

"Well for one, your brother is an idiot and so are you for listening to him and two you should have known better than to go about it that way."

"Yeah, well I was 13 and stupid. What do you expect."

Just then Jared came back into the room. “Hey guys, I just got off the phone with Gen. I need to head home. Tom is refusing to take a bath apparently. Gen told me to tell you she is here if you need anything and she would like to set up a dinner for all of us next week. Is that okay with you guys?”

You got up off the bed and gave Jared a big hug. “Tell her that would great Jare. Thank you.”

“No problem, bug,” Jared said as he walked out leaving you and Jensen to be alone.

Jensen turned to you and grabbed your hands and held them. “I think we should schedule you an appointment with a psychologist tomorrow and get ahead of this while we can,” Jensen said.

“I think you’re right. Thank you for being my rock through this. I couldn’t get through it any other way,” you replied.

“No problem sweetheart, I wouldn’t have it any other way. I love you,” Jensen said.

“I love you too.”

Jensen grabbed you by the cheeks and looked you deeply in the eyes. “You, my love, need a shower.”

You laughed and hit him in the chest. He wasn’t wrong, but you wouldn’t admit that. When you turned around you saw the knife on the bed with the little bit of blood that you lost and your face paled. Jensen immediately noticed and grabbed your attention.

“Hey, don’t worry about that. I’ll take care of it. You just go and get yourself cleaned up.”

You nodded your head and kissed Jensen one last time before grabbing your robe and towels and heading towards the bathroom.

Once you were done and fully showered you realized you needed help rebandaging your cut. So, you put on your robe and headed back into your shared bedroom.

“Hey Jay, I was wondering if you could – “you froze when you saw what Jensen had done in the 30 minutes you were in the shower. The bed was made with fresh new sheets, there was no blood to be seen. He had fresh clean clothes laying out for you. The shades were still drawn but there were candles lit around the room and Jensen was sitting on the bed in one of the shirts he knew you loved and a pair of sweatpants.

“What do you need sweetheart?” Jensen asked.

“What’s all this?”

“I thought I’d treat you to a nice candlelit afternoon of cuddling and love.”

“I would love that.”

“What were gonna ask me when you walked out of the bathroom?”

“Uhhh, oh yeah, can you help me bandage my wrist?” you asked with a look of shame on your face.

Jensen walked over to you and pulled your chin up to look at him. “Hey don’t do that. Don’t judge yourself. You can’t help that your brain isn’t cooperating with you. Of course, I’ll help, and I’ll be damn proud at how strong you are to stop yourself.”

You started to tear up when Jensen wiped your tears from your cheeks. He grabbed your bandage materials and brought you over to the bed. He sat you down and gently wrapped your wrist being careful not to wrap it too tight.

Once he finished, he grabbed your clothes and handed them to you while he put the materials away. You got dressed and he grabbed you by the waist and kissed with a passion you didn’t think he had in him, and that’s saying a lot.

“How about we lay down and cuddle and just relax,” Jensen suggested.

You just nodded as you both got under the covers and you laid on his chest. He wrapped his arm around you and started to play with your hair as you both drifted into a nice needed slumber.

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