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"Kyle, trust me when I say you're gonna do great." Jason speaks in a soothing tone, holding his phone between his shoulder and ear when he reaches into the oven (with oven mitts on, of course) and pulls out his chicken casserole.
He sets his phone on the counter after pressing the speaker button before going to get two plates.
"Yeah, I mean, I guess," Kyle's voice rang through the kitchen. "But… what if there's a question that I accidentally skipped over that's worth extra points? O-Or that one time I ended up zoning out for five seconds was actually some of most important information for the test? What if-"
"Dude, you're spiraling." Jason interrupts gently, he can hear Kyle's ragged breathing coming through the phone. He places the plates on the table and goes to retrieve the silverware. "You got straight A's basically your whole life, right?"
"Right…"
Opening the drawer, he continues, "Right. You were probably the smartest kid in school! You're like, the smartest person I know. Man, I wish I could be as smart as you!"
Kyle stays silent, and Jason can practically picture his thoughtful expression. His best friend hums softly, a habit he developed in middle school. A couple moments of silence go by until he replies.
"I… guess you're right."
Despite Kyle not being able to see him, he grins. "Hell yeah I am! You got this, bro!"
"Okay… okay, okay." Kyle pauses. "I have to go now. Gonna go study a bit more before I konk out. Thanks, Jace."
"Anytime, buddy." Jason picks up his phone. "Text me when you finish, and also don't forget to tell me the results when you get them, alright?"
"Yeah, of course!" Kyle exclaims, and Jason is happy that his friend is acting a bit more like his cheery self again. "Talk to you tomorrow, okay? Love you!"
"Love you too, bud. Good luck!" And with that, Jason hangs up and tucks his phone into his pocket.
Jason brought the casserole over to the center of the table and aligned the silverware evenly with a fork on the left of the plates, and a knife on the right. Once he was content with the placement, he went off to go find his beloved boyfriend.
He walks across their apartment and knocks on the bedroom door. "Hey, Richie. Dinner's ready!" Silence fills the air for a minute, but Jason shrugs it off. Richie might be napping right now, considering how jumbled his sleep schedule can get.
Jason knocks again. "I made one of your favorite casseroles! You better come out before it gets cold!" A few more seconds goes by, and still nothing.
He frowns when he knocks again, harder this time, and still receives no answer. Sure, Richie is a deep sleeper but he should be at least making some kind of noise to let Jason know he heard him, whether it be a sleepy mumble or a groan. Jason finds himself starting to get a bit worried when five minutes goes by, and still doesn't get a response.
"Richie, if you don't answer, I'll go in there and drag you to the table myself!" An empty threat, Jason knows. He doesn't drag his boyfriend anywhere, if anything he prefers to hold him bridal style, which Richie is aware of. Usually Richie would laugh at his empty threats followed by some snarky remark or sarcasm, which he usually never passes up the chance to do. So when no noise is made, Jason starts to get anxious.
Sighing to himself, Jason wraps his hand around the doorknob and turns. The door creaks slightly as he opens it all the way. Jason goes over to the bed, and is surprised when he doesn't see Richie.
Jason lifts up the covers in some kind of hope that Richie had just buried himself deep inside of the bed like a little cat.
Dropping the covers, Jason asks, "Where the hell are you, babe?"
Within a couple of quiet moments, Jason hears it, sniffle followed by a small whimper. Jason whips around and comes face-to-face with the bathroom door that just so happens to be connected to their bedroom.
It only takes two seconds for Jason to rush over to the door and gently knock on the door, hoping it doesn't sound as frantic as he feels. On the other side, Jason hears a choked sob after he knocked.
"Love? Are you in there?" Jason keeps his voice low and soft, like coaxing an injured animal. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing!" Richie's voice squeaks out from the other side. "I'm fine! I'll be out there in a couple minutes."
"I think you and I both know you're not telling the truth, hun." Jason says as he leans his forehead against the door. "Can I come in?"
"No!" Richie basically screams, surprising Jason. "You… you can't." He says in a softer tone.
"And why not?"
The only sound behind the door now is Richie's breathing and quiet sniffles, so Jason can tell that his boyfriend started crying again.
Despite Richie not being able to see him, Jason is wearing a gentle and understanding expression. He remembers the first time he heard Richie cry, he couldn't stop his own tears, he's always been a sympathetic crier, but it's always worse with his boyfriend.
"Because you'll h-hate me." Richie mumbles, but it's just loud enough for Jason to pick up.
"Love. Nothing you say or do could ever make me hate you. You know that, right?" Richie says nothing, so Jason continues. "Like, for example, if you killed someone, I'd help you hide the body!"
Richie chokes out a laugh, it's not much, but Jason counts it as a win. "God, you're such a dork…"
"Your dork." Jason replies with a small smile. "So… can I come in?"
He hears shuffling from inside the bathroom before a small 'click' comes from the doorknob. Jason takes that as permission and slowly opens the door, giving Richie enough time to close it again if he suddenly changes his mind.
When his eyes adjust to the way too bright lights of the bathroom, he takes in the scene in front of him. Richie is standing before him in his usual hunched posture as blood slowly trickles down his arms and drip on the white tiles. The sink has the same red liquid basically covering the inside of it with a sharp, bloodied pocket knife placed on the bathroom counter.
Jason immediately directs his attention to his boyfriend when he hears a sob.
"I-It happened again… I'm sorry." And just like that, the floodgates opened. Broken cries immediately find their way out of Richie's mouth, it barely takes Jason a second to wrap his arms around him and stroke his back.
Jason slowly guides him to the toilet seat when he feels something wet and sticky soak through his shirt. He pushes the uncomfortable feeling down, he can just take it off and wash it later, Richie is way more important than a stained shirt.
He doesn't know how long he's been there, rubbing his boyfriend's back and whispering comforting reassurances in his ear, but he does know that Richie has been struggling with his mental health for awhile. Jason remembers when they first started to become actual friends, Richie had opened up to him about everything regarding it. At the time, Jason couldn't help but feel guilty, as if he was the direct cause of it, but now he knows it has at least been going on since middle school, so nothing to do with him, which was a relief.
Richie has admitted that some of his issues have come from what he was put through, like Max, for example. But he has also said that most of them came from his own head, telling him horrible things that Jason doesn't want to list off.
And despite knowing Richie for a little over five years at this point, Jason has never actually seen Richie like this. Whenever something like this happens, someone close to Richie has always been there with them, whether it be his friends, uncle, dad, or Trevor, someone else always handled it. And also recalls receiving curt or even flat out cold answers whenever he tried to ask about Richie, mostly from Pete and Trevor.
Sure, they get along better now than before, but sometimes he can feel them glaring into the back of his head if they see him getting too close to Richie (despite them being boyfriends)
The longer Jason rubs Richie's back, the calmer his sobs become, until all that comes out of him is small sniffles once.
"I'm not mad at you." Jason reassures as soon as Richie calms down. "Nobody's mad at you."
Richie looks up at him, eyes red and puffy. "B-But I got blood everywhere and it's on your shirt! And I-"
"You're hurting, love. You're hurting and scared. There's nothing wrong with that." Jason gently strokes Richie's cheek.
"I thought I was getting better." Richie mumbles, voice slightly cracking at the last word.
Jason swears he feels his heart break into a million pieces at his sentence, but he tries not to let it show. This is about Richie.
"You just had a bad day, hun. They happen, it doesn't mean it's a setback."
Richie kicks the nearby bathtub out of frustration. "But I took my meds today! And yesterday! I've been taking them since they were prescribed to me! There wasn't even a fucking reason for this, my stupid brain just started giving me stupid thoughts out of nowhere!"
Jason gently pulls Richie up and puts his hands under the faucet before turning on the water. A wave of relief washes over Jason once the blood slides off Richie's wrist and no more was oozing out of his wounds, meaning that he didn't cut too deep. Jason splashes some of the water on the sink walls in order to it to at least an extent.
"I know. Frustrating; isn't it?" Jason asks calmly.
Richie simply nods and Jason turns off the water before rummaging through the medicine cabinet, hoping there's still some rubbing alcohol left. Once he retrieves it, he grabs a cotton ball and daps some of the liquid onto it.
Richie noticeably tenses up when Jason brings the ball close to his wrist.
"I know it hurts, but it'll be over before you know it. Just take deep breaths. Okay?" That seemed to be enough convincing for him, since Richie closes his eyes and lets Jason work his magic.
It only takes about two minutes for Jason to get all of Richie's cuts, but those two minutes were some of the worst of Jason's life. Richie had been letting out grunts of pain the entire time, and he doesn't like that he was in pain because of him, even if it's for a good reason.
Jason grabs the bandages from another cabinet after putting the rubbing alcohol away, and as he's wrapping up Richie's wrists, he can't help but ask.
"Love, where did you get that knife from? I don't think we own any pocket knives here." Jason tries to keep his voice soft, with a tinge of curiosity. Because if Richie thinks you're being accusatory, he'll shut himself off immediately.
Richie anxiously taps his feet, refusing to meet his boyfriend's eyes. "Um, I-I got it a couple years ago at an anime convention, back in senior year. I… I kind of carried it with me everywhere, because even though I wouldn't actually do anything with it, it still made me feel safe."
Humming knowingly, Jason finishes off the bandaging, he doesn't need to ask for confirmation on what he needed to be safe from. Max.
And me.
Flexing his hands a little bit, Richie continues. "I, uh… just never really mentioned it because it didn't seem like anything… important. So…"
Jason takes hold of the knife and folds it back into itself. "Hey, I get it. It's good for self-defense and shit."
"I… I think you should hold onto it for a little while, and don't let me have it. I-In case if I…"
A gentle smile tugs at the tips of Jason's lips. "That's a good idea, Rich." He kisses his forehead. "Now, how about you go and warm up your casserole, it probably got cold by now. I just need to clean up a little bit in here first."
Richie frowns. "Wh-What? No! You shouldn't have to clean up my mess! Look, I can-"
"Richie." Jason cuts in, making him stop immediately. "I'm not letting you do anything else today, okay? I just want you to relax right now. I'll clean it up and catch up with you in ten minutes or so."
Jason kind of braces himself for Richie to be more argumentative and stubborn, but is surprised when he slumps and groans, "Fiiiinnne."
"Perfect." Jason gives him another kiss, this time on the lips. "Now hurry before flies start trying to steal it."