Work Text:
it was a quiet night, the sky dimly lit by the half moon in the sky. player was in their room, staring at the wall wondering where it all went wrong. georgie and the rest of the safe place were asleep, leaving them nothing but a bottle of vodka to comfort them. they picked it up quietly, trying to stop the glass of the other bottle from clinking on the bottle they currently had and georgie tossed, making player jump out of their skin. he was still asleep, thankfully. they couldn‘t get caught drinking again. they don‘t fully remember what happened last time, but it was bad enough that someone had to put them to bed every night for 2 weeks to make sure they didn‘t do something stupid. they stuffed the rest of things they needed into their pockets and rushed out of the bedroom.
the roof didn‘t seem like the place to go this time so instead, they went and sat in the kitchen. a part of them hoped someone would walk in mid drink and stop them so they could talk about what they were feeling but they knew that wasn’t happening, so they let it go. they pushed open the door to the dining room, the door creaking slightly once they pushed it closed. they hated that silence. it was heavy. it wasn‘t ALWAYS like that though, only since their friends died. everything was about their friends‘ deaths. they breathed wrong and their mind made it about their friends‘ death. nothing was stopping it so they just resorted to using things that made them feel numb instead. they opened the bottle, the cap almost rolling off the table, and took a sip. and another. and another. until almost half the bottle was gone.
the door creaks open and clicks shut. zizzy sat down next to them. the very thing they‘d wished for just an hour before. someone to care. before they could take another sip, zizzy lightly took the bottle from them.
„what‘s wrong dear? you keep drinking and i’m getting worried. you know you CAN talk to us, right?“ she insisted, her tone pleading and calm.
„i do, and i would if i knew what was wrong. i don‘t. i‘ve used so much of whatever i can find to feel numb that i‘ve completely forgotten how to feel…anything.“ they replied, their voice trembling slightly, but noticibly.
„is this about your friends? you‘ve mentioned them very little but there‘s a lot of emotion in your voice when you speak about them. i know it‘s tough losing people you love, and i really don‘t want to put myself in your shoes because nobody can replicate how you feel exactly, but what i want is to understand, even if it‘s in small details“ zizzy sympathised, secretly praying they‘d say anything about it instead of doing…whatever this is.
„yeah. everything‘s about them now. i don’t know why. my mind is so consumed with them that i don’t know how to function anymore. i just wish…nevermind. i‘m not doing this.“ player rejected, their voice shaking.
„no please. please talk to me.“ zizzy pleaded as player got up.
player made it to one of the tables before turning around, their face gray.
„i think…i think i’m gonna-.“ player blurted.
before they could finish what they were saying, they threw up. zizzy ran over to them, lifting them up from the floor. they‘d collapsed straight into the puddle of vomit on the floor, sobbing. they clutched their chest as zizzy sat down next to them.
„stay here, my love. i‘m going to get someone i‘ll be right back.“ zizzy rambled, running out of the room to go and wake everyone.
she got to the first floor of rooms and pushed open pony and mimi‘s rooms.
„HELP! HELP!“ zizzy shouted, stunning mimi and pony.
„what. what‘s up my love?“ pony grumbled, still compassion for her in his voice.
„player‘s sat downstairs sobbing and their trousers covered in vomit, i need help. they were talking to me and then they just shut off and when they went to walk away, they turned and their face was gray and then they threw up and now they‘re crying. please help me.“ zizzy panicked, her breaths getting shorter and sharper with every word.
„okay okay, you go back downstairs and see to them and i‘ll wake up giraffy. go sweetheart, it‘ll be okay.“ pony comforted, his voice calmer than it should’ve been.
pony went and woke up everyone else while zizzy ran back downstairs to make sure player was okay.
„i’m back, i’m back. are you okay? what happened?“ zizzy asked, the questions just flying out of her mouth.
„i don‘t know. whenever i think about them, i feel sick. usually i can control it but i just couldn‘t today. i’m sorry. it‘d be better off without me here.“ player mumbled, defeated.
„no. no it wouldn’t. i‘d rather be here with you and be taking care of you instead of you NOT being here and no one taking care of you. my dear, nobody thinks of you any other way. we love you for who you are, not what you aren‘t. everyone‘s losing people, everyone‘s feeling a bit shit, but nobody hates you or how you‘re feeling. in fact, you being so open about it makes more people feel comfortable to say something about how the grief and the infection is affecting them. don‘t feel bad for it, we‘re here for you.“ zizzy replied, her tone soft and careful, making player sob into her shoulder.
mimi came down, checking player over and making sure they were okay and giraffy gave them a hug. then pony asked for some alone time with them. for a minute or two, they just sat there, the room filled with nothing but players sniffles and very quiet sobs.
„what‘s going on with you.“ pony asked, numbness in his tone.
„everything. i just want my friends back. this is the worst. worse than the depression i battled as a teen, worse than my weed addiction. i can‘t deal with it anymore. i keep having dreams of shooting myself or stabbing myself and i wake up happy, and then i realise it wasnt real and i feel my face drop. i hate this so so much.“ player violently sobbed.
them and pony were turned to face each other now. pony watched as they sobbed when they grabbed his shoulders and started hitting their head into them and saying „i want them back. what did i do to deserve this?“ while gasping in between words. after about a minute, they stopped. stopped crying, stopped talking. everything just stopped. they stood up, mumbled an apology and went to bed.
„weird.“ pony mumbled as they walked away.
it was weird. one second they were distraught, next second they weren‘t. pony knew what he did. what he‘d be labelled as if he told anyone. now, he was seeing the repercussions of his actions. he was seeing how his actions were affecting someone he didn’t know he‘d be close to months before. this isn‘t about how he feels, it‘s about what he did and how it’s affecting others. that pit in his stomach was back again and instead of trying to get rid of it, he let it sit there. he let himself sit in agony. just like player was all the time.
player took themselves up to the roof. they didn‘t really want to go up there, but everyone had gone downstairs and they didn’t want to draw any more attention to themselves than they already had. smoking and having a bit more to drink after throwing up may not have been the best idea but who ACTUALLY cared? they knew everyone in the safe place did, but for some reason, that didn‘t matter the most to them. why, they don’t know, but it wasn‘t affecting them so they just moved on with their life. they made it up to the roof, lightly closing the door because ether didn’t want anyone knowing they were up there. they sat down, pulled out a lighter and some cigarettes from their pocket, lit one up and put it in their mouth. nothing really mattered anymore. before, maybe they would‘ve cared enough to change, but no one was here to remind them what really mattered anymore because those people were gone, and so was their reason to live. it was quiet. there was no sound except for the windchimes the twins, zizzy and pony had put up the week before and the wind whistling as it brushed past their face. all they could think was „why didn’t i keep him safe that night?“. it ate at them every second of everyday. their sleeve rolled up slightly to reveal the butterfly tattoo they‘d gotten when they were 19 with their friends by their side. they used to rub it when they got nervous or upset but it ended up losing it‘s spark so they moved onto other things. if they ever hurt themselves, they made sure never to do it on the tattoo, as to say that they were keeping their pact to them. it‘s head and body made up a semi colon, which was doggy‘s idea. they wanted something that had it incorporated in but could never think of anything, so they had kinda ditched the idea. they were looking at it, taking draws of smoke, when someone quietly opened the roof door. it was georgie. he was too young to get involved in whatever player was going through but in a way, he understood. he lost the people that were the closest to him, and so did they. difference was, he could cope and speak to people, they couldn‘t.
„hey. i knew you‘d be up here. everyone else told me you wouldn‘t be, but i’m not dumb.“ georgie remarked, sitting next to player but far enough so the smoke wasn‘t too close to him.
„yeah, i gathered. everyone was downstairs and i wasn‘t walking past everyone after i‘d managed to embarrass myself like that. gosh. i actually can‘t do this anymore.“ player mumbled under their breath, trying not to let too much information out. after all, he was only 16 and they were 26. there was a good ten years between them, and he didn’t need to be thinking that this was all adulthood was, because it wasn‘t. player was just unlucky and managed to fall into a heavy depression and use unhealthy coping mechanisms to forget about it.
„so, you miss them too? i really just want my family back. i haven‘t said anything to anyone else because i don‘t want them to worry. i know they might think i‘m going the same way as you, and i know i am, i‘m already there, but i don‘t want them to worry about me as well. how do you live with this? it‘s so difficult.“ georgie went on, his voice still stable, unlike player‘s.
„how do i live with this?“ player chuckled, their voice trembling, „i don’t. do you see what mess i’ve become? i don‘t live with it, i just become numb so i dont have to pay any mind to it. it‘s stupid, i know, but i can‘t cope any other way. i promise you, you‘ll be better off talking to someone instead of just sitting on it. that‘s what i did. you don‘t want to end up like me. if you have to do something to suppress the emotions for a bit after, do it, but tell someone before you do. don‘t do it without talking to someone first. i promise you it doesn‘t end well if you don‘t.“ player rattled on. something about georgie starting to feel the same way as them set off bells in their head that hadn’t been there before. they had to make sure he didn’t go down the same spiral as they did at his age.
„yeah, yeah…thank you.“ georgie replied, hugging player before he got up to go inside.
georgie walked over to the door, looked back at player and went inside. he didn‘t know what to do. they felt the same way but they coped completely differently. they‘d given him good advice. what to do if he felt like doing something he could get hooked on, how to approach the situation. why did they assume he was going to do that. was that the way it goes or were they just making sure they knew what to do to make sure he didn‘t end up that same way they had?
[an hour later]
everyone had gone to bed. player had hurt themselves again. they were still on the roof, by themselves, without being checked on since georgie left. there was one thing in their mind now.
„kill yourself.“
that was the only thought left. it stuck out in their head. there was nothing they could do anymore. there was so much hey‘d tried to do to cope and nothing was working. they didn‘t have the words to speak up about what was going on, they had no idea how things were going for them, there was no high in anything they were doing anymore. nothing seemed to cure the bottomless pit in their heart. there was only one thing left to do.
they grabbed the notes they‘d written a few weeks prior out of the drawer, put them on the bedside table and went down to the kitchen. their mind raced as they walked down the stairs but they managed to learn how to drain it out months before, so it wasn‘t a worry. when they reached the kitchen, they went over to a drawer, pulled out a knife and closed it. they walked up to the roof, the knife in their hand still, and opened the door. the wind had changed now. instead of the slow, gentle breeze that was there before, it was replaced with a harsh, bitter wind that made the windchimes sound insane and their hair become frizzy and messy. no one was awake to stop them. was that a good thing? probably not, but what care did they have anymore? they looked behind them in some sort of hope that someone would be there, but there wasn’t. they looked up into the sky they‘d looked at so many times, reminiscing all the times where this hadn‘t affected them and they just stopped for a second. was this really what they wanted? was there something more to this sudden urge? was there something behind this? who knew, and honestly, who the fuck cared? this was what they wanted and after this, there was no turning back. they didn‘t have the healthcare or help to provide them for the wound anyway, so it was going to work. before they could have a second thought about it, they plunged the knife into their chest, their shirt staining red. they didn‘t stop there. they kept going, stabbing themselves 3-4 times before being too weak to do anything more. they fell to the floor, their head smashing against the hard concrete and they just bled out. the blood poured out of them like the river in the park them and their friends used to eat near at lunch. as they fell, the knife dropped out of their hand and clattered just out of reach from them. they kept fading in and out of consciousness, their last sight always being a scene of them and their friends hanging out somewhere or some messages that made them laugh. the blood was beginning to pool and collect under them now, their eyes starting to close for longer and longer. before they knew it, they were taking their last breath and seeing their last sights.
„i’m sorry. i really am.“ they mumbled, their words quiet and soft, but barely audible.
there wasn‘t a lot they missed in life, they‘d always managed to hit their target. whether it was good or not, they‘d always managed to hit it no matter what. there wasn’t a lot that could get to them, not that they‘d show anyway. but there’s one thing that everyone missed. whether it was in a sad way, or in a way where they proved that some people‘s words meant nothing. they had just done it physically. they always said it. everyone remembered them by those four words. what were they you ask?
„you missed my heart.“