Work Text:
“F-fuck,” Josh mumbles, hands shaking over the bottle’s cap. Slick with sweat, he can’t get a good grip.
It cracks open, finally, and he pours a handful, pills bouncing like skittles onto the carpet and rolling under his bed. In the dark of his room, he can’t see how many he’s got, but it feels like enough.
His phone lights up, the screen blinding him with a request to slide to answer Chris’ fifth call in the last three minutes.
He stares, the palm-full of pills like a weight. He should answer.
The phone goes dark, eventually.
A square afterimage floats in front of his eyes, the negative of Chris’ name etched in air. His fingers curl around the pills, and he imagines that he could clench his fist around the mouth of the bottle and funnel them back in. Call Chris back, rib him about being such a worry wart.
But what about tomorrow? Or the next day? Or next week? How long can he keep putting off the inevitable? This black hole in his heart, that seems to suck in everything he used to enjoy and sends it spinning out of reach, will still be there. He’ll still be a disappointment to his parents, forced to hide his fucked up head from his own sisters.
The phone lights up again, and Josh picks it up. Hits ignore.
He remembers when Chris had such a thing for Ashley. Chris can go back to her, or find someone who won’t scare him half to death with stupid pranks and make him watch horror videos on youtube. Chris won’t have to constantly deal with his panic attacks anymore, or with Josh making terrible jokes, or with him cancelling dates at the last second because he doesn’t have the energy to move.
And there’s another bonus. No more lack of energy. No more unhappiness.
No more.
Josh slides half of the pills into his mouth, chewing and swallowing thickly. Something knocks on his door and the knob rattles, but Josh ignores it, opening wide to shove the rest of his handful in.
The door clicks open suddenly, and Josh sees Chris’ sharp silhouette crouching outside, a debit card in his hand. Josh smirks around his pills. He’d taught Chris well.
“Josh, what the hell, man, I called like–” Chris halts just inside the doorway, sees the empty bottle, the pills like crumbs littering the carpet, Josh’s jaw working steadily. “Josh, stop!”
Chris throws himself on the floor next to Josh, hands grabbing his jaw, trying to halt his chewing. “No, stop, what are you doing? How many have you swallowed? Josh, stop, please!”
Josh swallows, choking slightly as the half-chewed pills go down. “It’s alright, Cochise, it’s alright,” he says around a cough, raising his hand. It’s steady as stone, and he fits it against Chris’ neck, feeling the tickle of Chris’ hair.
“Oh my god, Josh, no, no, no,” Chris has his phone in one hand, the pill bottle in the other. “This is not alright, this is so not alright.”
“Hey, hey man, c’mere, look here, look at me,” Josh pulls, and Chris looks up from his phone. His eyes are shining in the light from the hall. Josh grins. “Look, it’s gonna be alright. I’m tired, so I’m just gonna go to sleep. No big deal, bro.”
“F-fuck you,” Chris says, voice thick and almost unintelligible. He’s tapping away on his phone. “You can’t do this, man. What about me? What about us? Did you think of that at all?”
“Tha’s all I’ been thinkin’ about, Cochi’,” Josh slurs, through what feels like cotton. “Won’ have to deal wi’ my bullshi’ no more.”
“If you die, I’m gonna kill you. I swear to god, Josh, I mean it, you asshole. This isn’t a fucking movie, and you are not dying in my goddamn arms– Yes, hello! I need an ambulance, my boyfriend–”
Josh closes his eyes, and just listens to Chris’ shaking voice. He lets his hand fall, finally, because it’s too heavy to hold up. But he feels Chris’ hands on his shoulders, warm through his shirt as Chris tries to wake him.
He opens his eyes once, to see Chris one last time.
~
He hates that he wakes up. He knows, as soon as he’s aware enough to pry open his crusty eyes, that he failed. What starts as a groan of pain for his pounding head, ends in half a sob that he’s still here to feel this shitty.
Something moves his arm, and with a start he realizes there is a hand locked with his. Of course, it’s Chris.
“Josh?” Chris says, but Josh can only shake his head, biting down hard on his the inside of his cheek.
A gasping sob escapes him, and he tries to hold his breath, to stop that awful sound, but another one shakes his body.
Chris is there, though, sliding onto the hospital bed, pulling Josh to him. Josh grabs his shirt, buries his eyes in Chris’ shoulder, and laughs wetly at how pathetic he is.
“I can’t do this, man,” he whispers at Chris’ collarbone. “I fucking hate it, I can’t.”
“You can, bro. Josh, I’m with you. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” Chris rubs a hand over Josh’s back, up the knobs of his spine through the flimsy hospital gown. “I fucking love you.”
“You’d probably find some phone game to pass the time,” Josh says, tone joking, but his voice cracks and he immediately regrets it. “Shit dude, I’m sorry. All I could think about was how much easier you guys would have it without me. How much better off you’d be.”
Chris’ hand pauses, arms tightening around him. “I’d be a fucking wreck if you died, Josh. You’re more important to me than any phone. I don’t care how many awful jokes you make, dude.” Chris pulls away, and Josh misses the warmth immediately, but Chris is staring him straight in the eye. “I need you to talk to me when you’re feeling like this. I want to help you. I don’t want you to be spiraling downward feeling like you have no one, when you have me. Okay?”
“Yeah.” Josh drags Chris closer again, resting his chin on Chris’ shoulder. “I’m sorry, I just-”
“You don’t have to apologize, man,” Chris says against his neck. “Just promise me you’ll come talk to me. That’s what boyfriends are for.”
Josh nods against Chris’ shoulder, a sudden rush of love and affection escaping the black hole in his heart and filling him to the brim. He hugs back tightly, trying to hold every inch of Chris at once, to impress the feeling into his very limbs so that he’ll still feel it when he finally lets go.