Chapter Text
An eerie silence drifted across the phantom dimension, uncomfortable but welcome.
The group sat in the bus as usual, but today none of them were interested in chatter. That day had been difficult for the whole lot, having several exams coming up, none were able to sleep much before they got transported. The only one with any sort of visible life was Aiden, as usual, fidgeting with Ashlyn’s hair.
Every time he wanted to touch it tonight, he asked until she gave him an answer that wasn’t “sure” or “maybe”. Every time he stopped and then went back, he’d ask again.
It must have been annoying to her. Not the fidgeting part, but the asking. He was pestering at this point, and while it was appreciated the first time, now her patience had run thin. As unfortunate as it was, Ashlyn was a leader. She had to prioritise making sure her team was safe, and for that she needed full concentration. Aiden as an individual was a lower priority than that.
She had tried to get him to stop.
“Aiden, stop. I need to focus.” Ashlyn’s tone was sharp. Painful. There was a sinking feeling in Aiden’s chest, not currently doing anything to stop, so he sat there uncomfortably. The crushing feeling of knowing he’d annoyed Ashlyn, probably given her a headache. Aiden could feel his insides turn to ice. Every ounce of energy got stripped from his bones, and all of a sudden he felt he needed to cry.
He was just being dramatic. But that didn't mean it hurt any less.
She’d never hurt him on purpose, she was just tired. But Aiden wasn’t, and now he is. It was just a few words. It’s not her fault, it never can be. Although, that didn’t take away from the fact he felt like he got dumped in the Arctic with nothing but the clothes on his back.
He really, really wanted to leave and never come back. Where to didn’t matter. Away. He’d hurt Ashlyn.
Recently, it was easier to pinpoint how he was feeling. Manic. Obsessive. And this. Every time he slipped into a depression, a bad one, he’d feel like this and know what it was. Just the smallest triggers and it was over before anything had really begun. Every time, he begged his conscious to stop, but it didn’t matter. He couldn’t escape his feelings, forced to live them through.
‘Not now. Not now not now please, please not right now.’ He begged his thoughts as if they were someone else entirely. But that didn’t change the fact he was rapidly breaking down. If he didn’t get out of there right at that moment, who knows what people might see.
“Okay then.” Aiden didn’t sound like he was about to cry. Sure, his smile faltered at the corners and every breath was shallower than the last, but Ashlyn didn’t notice anything wrong. Why would she, her focus was still on the plan. Not on Aiden. He knows he’s about to have a rough time. All because of a stupid plan.
This week he was supposed to organise his birthday. Just earlier he was thinking how inconvenient it would be to fall into a depressive episode before that. The deadline was today, if he wanted any chance of phasing out in time. He can only hope so.
Aiden gathered himself, standing up with a small shake. On the way out he picked up the first random object in reach, a book, just in case he needed an excuse, and walked out without looking back. An excuse was necessary, and although a book isn’t the best, he just needed anything. He was unpredictable at best, anyways. He chose a nice spot a few busses away from his friends, out of view from any windows. Aiden needed full privacy to break down. Usually, during these breaks, someone would notice the lack of energy and go searching for him. He was planning to milk as long as he could out of this until then.
With a loud thud, he fell back to lean on the bus, sliding down with a little difficulty. The paint and dust clawed at his clothes, and his lower back got grazed on the way. This was ignored, of course.
His knees felt weak, and every breath was shallower than the last. A headache started to accumulate, and a hand was brought to his head. Both shielding his eyes from the little light there was, and pressing against his temples. It didn’t offer much relief. He stayed like that until his arm got tired and his hand dropped.
During that time, his mind raced through all the ways he could dispose of himself. Run away to somewhere. Something. Anything at all. If he died, he wouldn’t have to worry anyone anymore. Including himself. Thinking like this wasn’t an uncommon occurrence, but this time it felt different. Like he actually had the sweet hope of release. Relief flooded through his chest, bringing his physical discomfort down. Not by much, but it mattered.
Once his mind completely cleared again, he started thinking about how he’d handle this in the short term. Definitely, as soon as he got home he’d have a blade in hand. It didn’t even matter which one, he’d settle for a sharpish butter knife. His skin just felt too tingly, too heavy, too entrapping. Everything screamed at him to be let free. A buzzing sensation started in his hands and feet, leading him through further discomfort.
He blurred those thoughts out of his head, unwilling to let them linger and emotionally exhaust him further. Everything was starting to weigh too much.
Aiden didn’t have a watch, not nearby at least, so he didn’t know how many minutes had passed. Time flew by his eyes. He only knows this because after a long while, a whole lot of blinking, he felt as though he hadn’t been there for any time at all. And also because, right on cue, some of the others came to look for him. Specifically Taylor and Tyler. Either they’d made a significant breakthrough, or Aiden had been there for longer than he thought.
Hearing their footsteps approaching, he quickly opened the book that had been tossed next to him, now dented with dirt and gravel, and pretended to be invested in some random page. He didn’t even know what it was about, but he hoped it was something he’d read normally.
The two rounded the corner and Aiden lolled his head back to get a better look at them, eyes focusing on the new faces.
“Miss me already?”
“You were gone for two hours, what have you been doing for so long?” Taylor asked, concerned. Her eyes glanced down to the book, then back to Aiden. Two hours, huh? That’s about six times longer than he imagined. It felt like he should win some type of record, but he wasn’t sure which one.
“Two hours?? Sorry, guess I got distracted!” Aiden held his signature smile on display, trying to get back to his usual upbeat rhythm. It wasn’t usually this difficult, he’d gotten really lucky this past year. For the majority he was either hypomanic or neutral, and the short depressive episodes were quickly shoved aside to be dealt with in his own time. Usually, it was quite possible to put up his facade. When he couldn’t, there was sure to be something negative going on, so the others would understand. But today he was all on his own, luck worn thin.
The low illumination of the red sky hid the quivers in his smile, and the way his eyes drooped more than usual. There was no way the others would notice, at least not outside. A beat passed and Aiden took that as a sign to stand up. His book got dusted off and doggy-eared as Tyler took his turn to speak.
“Ashlyn said you just ran off. What was that?” And there it was. Being completely honest, Aiden had no idea how to respond. His brain racked through possible responses, trashing every one of them. That left only the truth.
“She seemed tired, and I didn’t want to bother her while she was planning.” He said casually. While that is true, it was more because he hated himself for bothering her in the first place. That must have been an acceptable answer, anyways. More so than he wanted to give.
The trio walked back, quickly forgetting about the topic at hand and making some variety of small talk. At least now they had an outline for the plan, so his episode wasn’t for nothing. It never is. Aiden’s only comforting thought after these things, is that he learned something. He has to at least learn something to make everything worth it. To be better next time, to be smarter and know how to behave. All his sorrow was for reason, so he could be a better him.
When Aiden was eight years old, he had no lessons and never made anyone feel miserable. Not even himself. Maybe he has been ruined.
Before he had the chance to spiral again, they made it back to the bus. Ashlyn’s explaining something quietly to Logan, and Ben is writing something in his notebook. Or maybe sketching, depending on how bad his own state was. Aiden could never tell. That must make him not only a bad cousin, but a bad friend. He wouldn’t be surprised if he was just bad in general. Unlovable, unfortunate as could be.
He was spiralling. Ashlyn gave him not so much as a glance as he walked back in the room. Did she really care that little? What did he even do to her. It could be anything, really, he thought. If he’s a bad person, of course she wouldn’t like him. At all. She was such a wonderful person to put up with him anyways.
The look in her eyes that said she hated their conversations, all the time she spent not caring about their interactions. It was obvious. He only just now realised, his saviour, his main reason for living out life since they met. She hated Aiden. But honestly? He was alright with that. He hated himself too.
Just as he started to dissociate, again, they shifted back to the real dimension. It was already too late though, wasn’t it.
Tears burned behind his eyes, but none came out. Every muscle in his body felt weak and his skin. It was burning against his flesh.
He couldn’t do this anymore. Not with his friends, not on his own. It felt like every few weeks his world was falling apart. Nothing was worth this.
Aiden slammed open the drawer with his blades, opting for one of his newer ones. It barely had any rust at all. They all rusted at the exact same time, despite the fact he used certain ones much more than others. He thought he took decent care of them too, despite the fact several had severe blood stains. Those ones reminded him of nights he fell asleep just after cutting. If he hadn’t locked his door, Aiden would have been so screwed. It was a true miracle his cuts had never been infected.
Metal sat softly against his skin as he chose a spot on his thigh and breathed deeply.
Once. For making Ashlyn upset.
White beads emerged from his thigh, quickly being swallowed with red. Realising that he prepared no cleanup, Aiden snatched a small black towel from his drawer, careful not to fling razors everywhere, and held it under the thigh. His sheets were as bright white as the sun, there was no way blood would ever come out of that.
Dabbing the blood away with his towel, he waited until the bleeding slowed. As soon as it started to settle, he cut again.
Twice. For not contributing to the plans.
This one was a little deeper, but not deep enough to cause concern. Every moment of cutting was filled with paranoia for Aiden, so he made sure to never go too deep. Never again.
Not unless he wanted to die.
Which didn’t seem like that bad of an option now. There he was, tearing apart his body because he couldn’t fathom being whole. Because he can’t control his emotions in the slightest. Honestly, it’s the most pathetic thing.
Did he deserve to die?
Thrice. Did it even matter why he was cutting? He'd be counting all day. He decided to give himself some lenience.
The first cut had already stopped bleeding, unfortunately. Aiden fixed this by cutting a few more times on his other thigh. The towel was working overtime, smearing blood around the wounds. He scratched along the cuts he just created, for more pain. It didn’t do much, though, he barely felt anything when cutting anymore. It was purely for the sensation. He needed more.
There was nothing more he could do. He was such a nuisance.
Saturday was his birthday. He had things to do every single day until then. If he still wanted to, he would do it on Sunday.
Just seven days, and he could kill himself.
Thinking like that sent a shiver down his spine. Warm and welcome. Already, he felt better than before. The mattress was comfier, the blade sweeter. After all these years, was this finally the time to do it? Better sooner than later, he supposed. Almost casually. As if he hadn’t just halfheartedly decided to potentially kill himself in a week’s time.
On Sunday night next week, he would be dead.
Without feeling nervous at the thought, Aiden knew this was the right choice.