#macmacbently

[ineffably-grey]

I wrote a short fic for a tv series i like, but i was sad so it’s depressing. so suicide attempted and another suicide is referenced. It’s like implied hurt/comfort

-Austin-

Mac’s pov

When I was thirteen, I tried to kill myself. While I was in the hospital, I met this guy who was there for the same reason. We became friends, I loved hockey, he couldn’t care less, He loved books, I couldn’t care less. Neither of us felt like being alive but, we both wanted the other live. So, we struck a deal. I wouldn’t hurt myself if he didn’t and vice versa.

When I moved to the UK, the hardest part was saying bye to him, but he moved shortly after to Tulsa, Oklahoma, in the states, to stay with his brother. We called and texted and kept up our deal.

Until yesterday.

I was at practice with the hammers, Hammarstrom wasn’t happy with me, my teammates weren’t listening, and I was off. I didn’t know what but I knew something was wrong. I tried to shake it off and just play but the feeling lingered.

Hammarstrom called for a break and my teammates were all talking and laughing, but not with me. I moved a bit away and tried to go over the plays. I checked my phone and saw a missed call from him. I resigned to call him back later when I saw I had a voicemail. Of course, just as I went to listen to it, Hammarstrom noticed just in time to remind of the phone policy.

“If you need to make a call so important you make it during practice, you do not hide it from your teammates. Speakerphone or no phone.”

Knowing my friend, Austin, it was either nonsensical and half in Polish or life-threatening, so I took my chances, I’d rather it be nothing and I make sure he’s okay, than it be something and I assumed. So I pressed play, with all my teammates listening in.

“Hey, Mac…um..it’s me.. But you knew that…I’m just calling to say I’m sorry, I know we said together or not at all but, I can’t do it anymore. I’m sorry I won’t be there when you become a hot-shot hockey star but, um…I don’t know if you heard but, Dallas, my brother, he died last week, he was uh, he was shot, by the police, they said they thought he was armed and they shot him but, anyway I-I’m sorry, I couldn’t keep my end of the deal, but you–you, Mac, you better keep yours. I have no one left, my mom left, my dad’s in jail, my brother died, I have no one but you and you’re halfway across the world. Just remember, how amazing your family is, how much you love hockey, and please, don’t forget me. I love you and I’m sorry. Goodbye, Mac”

I felt my world crashing down around me, everything felt fuzzy and far away, I knew my teammates and my dad and even Hammerstrom were moving and running and trying to talk to me, but none of it registered. The world slowed down for what felt like hours. I threw my helmet across the rink, I broke my hockey stick, I think I hit one of my teammates, I don’t know. All I remember is this crushing weight on my chest and this fog of despair, regret, and anger over my mind. I stormed out. I think someone followed me. I ran the entire way home. I got up to my room just to see the pictures of me and him and I couldn’t take it I tore the pictures down, I saw my bookcase, they were all either about hockey or he recommended them. I hit it as hard as I could till the top shelf broke, spilling books, causing this domino effect until my room was littered with books and trinkets. All my clothes reminded me of him, it was almost as if my sheets smelled of him, everything had a trace of him and a tiny memory, I wouldn’t be able to make any more of. I was lying on the floor surrounded by the contents of my room, staring at the ceiling. I hadn’t thought this way in a while, but lying there staring at the rafters, a belt six inches from my left hand, I thought about joining him. Oh god, in that moment I wanted nothing moe than to join him. Instead, I hauled myself up and went to take a shower. Because that’s what I always did when I felt like this. It wasn’t a good idea.

As, I walked into the bathroom, the first thing I noticed wasn’t the new towels, or that I was out of shampoo, but the bottle of over-the-counter painkillers left on the counter. It felt like I was in a trance, I don’t remember picking it up, reading the warnings on the label, or opening it, but I do remember pouring out a handful and swallowing them a few at a time. I remember my parents yelling, my sister crying, flashing lights, and now i’m here, in a hospital bed with my parents and sister and sky on one side and my teammates on the other.

I woke up today, against all odds, surrounded by the contents of my room and knew it would never be okay again, but it could be better.