Chapter Text
Gabe was crushed between his carseat and a tree, the airbag doing little to cushion him. He wasn’t dead yet, why wasn’t he dead? He didn’t know how fast he was going, but it was pretty damn fast. Nothing hurt, that was surprising, he felt like he should be in pain, but there wasn’t anything.
He heard the whooshing sound of car going past, none of them stopped. Gabe’s shitty 2003 Honda Civic was crushed against a tree and not one person was stopping.
Maybe they didn’t see him; it was dark and Gabe had turned his headlights off halfway through his drive. Or maybe, maybe, Gabe was right about himself, nobody cared about him.
Mom cared, she cared so much it grove her insane. Dad was too busy caring about mom to care about him. Dad was scared of him, never getting too close, never sparing him as much as a glance. Natalie…she might have cared the first dozen times he fell apart, but she got tired of it, trusting him to pull himself up.
Gabe didn’t—couldn’t-blame her, she was only sixteen, practically a baby. He resent his parents, just a little. Okay, maybe a lot. It was almost easy to resent his dad, he was distant with Gabe, giving his attention mostly to mom, saving a little for Natalie and almost none for him.
Resenting mom, God, that was hard. He didn’t want to, because mom tried to be there for him all the time. But she wasn’t, and Gabe felt like that was his fault. If he had never been born she wouldn’t be crazy.
Gabe came back to his body at the sound of sirens and the sight of flashing lights. Oh, someone was here for him, shit. The sound of shouting was muffled, illegible, but still there. Shit.
Gabe woke up with a pounding, groggy, head. His entire body ached, no, it was much worse than that. There was something in his throat, stopping him from breathing properly. He coughed, bring his heavy arms up to his mouth.
“Hey, hey, don’t do that, I’ve got it.”
Hands interrupted his own, pulling them aside. The thing in his throat was dragged out carefully, but still painfully. Gabe hacked, gross saliva and snot dripping off his chin. Someone wiped his face off, “Gabriel? Can you hear me?” the voice—a woman—asked. Gabe blinked his eyes open, closing them again when the bright lights blinded him.
Remembering the woman’s question, he nodded slowly, thought it hurt to do. “Good, good, do you remember what happened, Gabriel?” she asked. Gabe remembered, Christ, he remembered. Again, he nodded. Another question, “Are you in any pain?” which was met with a rapid nod.
He was handed something, “Push this if it starts hurting bad.” the woman told him. Gabe immediately pushed the button, which drew a chuckle from the woman. He didn’t find it very funny.
As the soon as the pain started to resend, sleep took over his mind.
The next time Gabe woke up he wasn’t alone and he was much more coherent. The pain had lessened a bit, and he was able to actually open his eyes now. An action that bought him attention.
“Gabe, baby? Are you awake?”
Mom, shit. He was really in for it now, shit, she was going to kill him. Gabe turned his head towards her, “Mom?” he mumbled. Mom sobbed, “Oh, my baby.” she gasped. Wylan briefly saw her face, red and swollen from crying, before it disappeared in the corner on his neck.
Gabe wrapped an arm around her shoulder. His other arm was wrapped in cast, similar to how it had been when he broke his arm when he was eight. Both of his legs were also in a cast, and his entire abdomen hurt. Everything hurt.
Mom pulled back, grabbing his face, “Oh my—you almost died again.” she sobbed. Her breath was coming out all wonky and wrong, “Mom, you’re having a panic attack.” he said.
She shook her head, “No, no, you—oh my God, you almost died, baby.” she said. Gabe winced, God, he couldn’t even kill himself right. Now he was making mom spiral even more. He was killing her by being alive.
The door creaked open, “Di, hun-” Dad cut himself off, “Gabriel.” he breathed. God, he sounded worried about someone other than mom. Shit. Mom pulled back, “Dan.” she said, her face crumpled. Dad put his phone in his pocket and rushed to the bed. He placed one hand on Mom’s arm and one behind Gabe’s head, cupping it.
Dad only touched him this gently…only touched him at all, on his trips to the hospital. Even then, it was only when he was really hurting when Dad treated him like this. Dad looked at him with wet eyes, “I think I totaled my car.” Gabe blurted out.
He expected a laugh, but Dad only looked sad. He took his hand off Mom’s arm and hugged Gabe. Hugged him, shit, he was really in for it now. Gabe was stiff, he knew, he wasn’t used to Dad hugging him.
They didn’t suspect anything, they thought it was an accident and nothing more. Gabe wasn’t about to tell them different, he didn’t want to go to a psyche ward. God knows he heard Mom and Dad arguing about her stays there for him to want to avoid it.
Natalie, apparently, hadn’t been hime when the hospital called Dad, and she hadn’t managed to make it to the hospital when he was awake. She had greeted him with a quick hug and awkward questions before going back to her room. Dad set up the guest room downstairs so he wouldn’t have to walk upstairs to his room.
Gabe hated it, be babied like this. He was eighteen, an adult, he didn’t need to be treated like this. His complaints were met with a kiss on the cheek from mom and a pat on the shoulder from dad.
Natalie would come to his new room at evening, doing her homework on his bed. Gabe complained, but she didn’t pay him any mind. The most embarrassing thing about the whole situation was that he couldn’t bathe himself. God, it was humiliating.
He could give himself sponge baths, but it didn’t feel the same. Mom offered to help him at first, in case he couldn’t do it with his broken arm. He refused, his exact words being ‘no fucking way’. He regretted the harsh words when Mom looked sad, but he stood his ground.
Mom asked how he was feeling, Gabe told her he was fine. Really, through, he still wanted to die. Gabe was so angry, he was angry all the time, even before his failed suicide attempt, but it was worse now. He was angry at himself, he hated himself.
Gabe wanted to be dead, he wanted to stop being angry and hurting and just being so damn sad all the time. He hated this. Gabe hated his life and he hated being alive.
It was three months since everything happened and his legs were out of the casts. Good, he was tired of looking at the sad, blank plaster. Nat and. her boyfriend, Henry, had sighed his casts, but they were blank other than that. It was honestly depressing.
Mom hadn’t let him go out much, her mind was telling her he would die if he left her site. Gabe hated it a little, but he loved Mom and he wanted her to be happy. Sometimes, when his legs ached and itched too much to handle he would lay with his head in her lap until it went away.
Now, though, Gabe was on top of the world. His legs were weak, and he had to do physical therapy, but he wasn’t in those damn casts anymore. Gabe could go back to his room upstairs and get everyone off his back.
Gabe was elated.
Gabe was staring at Mom, “Are you serious?” he asked, “Gabe, honey, I just don’t think you should go out.” Mom said, “You’re still healing, you could get hurt again.” she said. Gabe crossed his arms, “Mom, I’m eighteen, I’m-I’m not asking permission to go out, I’m telling you I am.” he told her.
Mom shook her head, “You’re still a kid, Gabe, and you still live in my house—” Gabe scoffed, “Don’t even.” he said. Dad walked into the kitchen, eyes on his phone, “Is everything okay?” he asked, glancing up.
Gabe didn’t look at him, “Nothing, Dad, I’m going out.” he said. God, he really didn’t need Dad getting involved with this. He didn’t need Mom getting involved with this, but here he was, in the middle of them.
He shouldn’t even have to tell them when he went out, he was really just doing them a favor by telling them. He wasn’t fragile, or hurt, or anything like that. He just wanted one night—one night—to go out and hang out with people he might not be friends with but that at least tolerated him. He wanted to feel like a normal eighteen year old boy who wasn’t sick and who didn’t try to kill himself.
Dad put his phone away and looked at him fully, “Is your mom okay with that?” he asked, seeming a little hesitant. Gabe scowled, “It shouldn’t matter, I’m eighteen, I should be able to go out when I want to!” he said it louder than he meant.
“Gabriel, you’re still living under our roof, you’ll listen to our rules.” Mom said. Ah, shit, she was mad, she only called him Gabriel when she was mad. Gabe drew his shoulders to his ears, “Then I’ll move out.” he shot back. He felt he was going to vomit, nausea and panic and anger swirling in his gut.
Mom placed her hands firmly on her hips, “You’re not moving out.” she had a slight laugh in her voice when she said it. Gabe clenched his jaw, “You can’t stop me from moving out.” he said.
She looked at him, “You’re gonna move out? With what money?” she asked. She was right, but Gabe wouldn’t admit that, “I’ll get a job.” he said, “Go live with a friend til I save up enough.” it was bullshit, but he was too far in. Dad stepped in, “Why don’t we all step back and—” “Are you trying to kill me?” mom asked.
Gabe reeled back, “What?” he asked, face flushing in surprise. Dad looked taken aback too, “Diana.” he said, Mom ignored him. “I’m sorry that I don’t want to go out a week after you get your casts off, but I don’t think it’s-it’s safe for you.” she said. Gabe opened his mouth, wanting to reply and shut her down, but she kept talking.
“For God’s sake, Gabe, you can’t expect me to trust you going out when you got in a car accident and almost died three months ago!”
Gabe spoke before his mind could keep up, “I wish it fucking worked!” he shouted.
It was completely quiet now. God, shit, why did he say that? Mom looked shocked, devastated; that was expected. But Dad…God, Dad looked broken, like he was about to cry. Mom placed a hand on her mouth, “What?” she whispered.
Gabe swallowed, “I-uhm, I didn’t mean…” he trailed off. He stared at the floor, then, feeling tears burning in his eyes. He heard Mom sob quietly, “Gabe, did you crash on purpose?” her voice was a whisper. Gabe couldn’t do anything, couldn't speak or shake his head.
Mom collapsed against the counter, “Oh my God.” she whispered. Gabe was going to vomit, he was sure of it. Dad still hadn’t said anything, and that was maybe the worst thing about this whole shit show.
Gabe couldn’t stand it anymore, he bolted toward the door. Mom screamed his name, but he was gone before she could chase him.
Gabe’s face was wet with tears, lip trembling as he bit down on it to stifle his crying. It was late, later than his supposed hang-out was supposed to go. His phone was in the passenger seat, probably blowing up with texts from Mom. He didn’t care.
The road was empty, he kept driving faster, faster than he had ever gone. The speed rose higher and higher, his heart pounded. His heart felt like an empty cavern, aching with the need for something, somebody, anything.
Though he hated to admit it, he was lonely, he didn’t have friends, he was a fucking loser. He hated being sick, going to the hospital what seemed like every week. He was tired of the pain that racked his body too often and left him shivering.
Gabe closed his eyes, letting up on the gas a bit because it scared him. There was a big tree a mile or so ahead, one that always caught his attention. He used to drive past it everyday for school, and, at the age of nine, Gabe imagined himself hanging from it.
He couldn’t place when he first imagined himself dying, but he knew it was from a too-young age. Not that there was a right age to imagin killing one’s self.
His eyes snapped open, he turned his headlights off, he drove faster. Something in him snapped and he veered right violently and his car met the trunk of a tree.
Gabe opened his eyes, watching a squirrel run up a tree. He was sitting on a bench at the city park, it felt like only a few minutes after he left but he knew it must have been hours. He pulled his knees to his chest with a sigh.
“You look fucking miserable.”
He jolted, “Christ, what’s your problem, man?” he asked, turning to look at who had startled him. It was a guy around his age, maybe a little older, with a smug little smile. The guy plopped down next to him on the bench, “You don’t want me to get into my problems.” when he spoke Gabe realized the words were graced with a British accent.
Gabe glared at him, “You’re British.” he realized with a frown. The guy raised his eyebrows, “Wow, you must be top of your class.” he said. Gabe felt himself blush, “Look, man, if you’re just here to be asshole, you can go.” he snapped.
The guy raised his hands in surrender, “No, no.” he said, “It’s just not everyday that I see a cute guy alone in the park.” he said. Gabe knew his blush was deepening, but he ignored it, “And calling cute guys ‘fucking miserable’ usually works for you?” he asked dryly.
The laugh that met his ears was—God—it was great. The guy shuffled a little closer, “Seems to be working on you.” he murmured. Gabe swallowed, “I bet you say that to all the cute boys you meet in parks.” he said.
“Like I said, I don’t see cute boys here everyday.” the guy reminded. Gabe’s face was beat red, “Do you seek out romance in parks often?” he asked, “No, I just got lucky today.” he replied.
Gabe extended a hand, “I’m Gabe.” he said, “David.” the other said, taking the offered hand.
David guided Gabe to a party, and then another. Gabe hadn’t felt this alive…ever. ”I don’t really like parties.”, David told him, “Not the people, anyways; but I guess I like the lights and sounds, and I definitely like the alcohol.” he added.
Gabe had never danced, had never gone to a real party before, not one that had more than cheap booze and bad music. And, yeah, the music wasn’t great, and the liquor wasn’t the best, but it was fun.
He didn’t drink often, he didn’t have a source other than shitty high school parties. He didn’t pass for twenty-one, and with Mom in the house they couldn’t have any alcohol. Gabe didn’t follow David when he smoked and let someone tap pills into his hand. David was fun, but Gabe wouldn’t let himself be seduced by him. He was trouble, Gabe could see it.
Gabe just danced with people and took shots and let girls grind against him even though he didn’t like them. Eventually, David dragged him up the stairs to a room with a group sitting on the floor.
“Everyone! This is my friend here’s first party, let’s make it a good one!” David yelled. The people whooped and ushered them to the circle they made. Before he knew it, he playing spin the body. He didn’t think people did that in real life.
Gabe got the first spin, landing on a girl and giving her a nice, but brief, kiss. He had fun, even just watching. His head was fuzzy and light, making him feel like he was almost floating. His mouth tasted like overly sweet booze and the girls strawberry lipgloss.
Throughout the game, Gabe kissed a couple more people. Two girls, and a really nice kiss with a pretty boy that drew whistles from the group. He couldn’t ignore the way David watched him as he pulled back.
David dragged him away after that, Gabe went willingly.
The car accident and the saddens and anger and hurt and sickness faded away. All that existed in the world was Gabe and David and the space between them that didn’t exist. Their lips pressed against each other’s, hands against skin and shared body heat. Gabe was in heaven.
Gabe groaned, head pounding and his stomach churning. Oh, God, this sucked. He should have listened to Mom and abstained from alcohol forever. He groaned, forcing his eyes open and taking in the unfamiliar scenery.
David, parties, drinking, sex. Right, shit, that happened. He rolled over and saw David’s naked back, and thought, ‘oh my God, I went ome with a pretty boy and had sex with him’. He half-hated the giddy feeling that bubbled in his stomach.
Past David’s body was an alarm clock, one that read 1:00 P.M. Shiiiiiiiiiiiiit. Gabe remembered yesterday’s argument with Mom and Dad, the confession; Mom was going to fucking kill him.
Gabe wiggled out of bed, glad that David wasn’t holding him. He redressed hastily, even though his head was still pounding and his stomach rolled. He looked back at David, chewing on his lip. He grabbed the yellow notepad on the bedside table, a different kind than the one on the other side of the bed, he noticed, and wrote a note.
Dear David
I have to go before my mom
actually kills me. I’m leaving my number
in case you want to do this again sometime
PS—I stole you sunglasses
-Gabe
There, that would do, he decided. He placed the note on the table and grabbed the sunglasses off it. His head hurt, and he knew the sun would only worsen it.
Gabe made his way out of the dorm, so he’s a college boy, he didn’t remember that. He vaguely knew where he was, but it would take a little for him to get home.
He had a lot of time to think on his way home. On the bus, he imagined Mom in a pool of her own blood in the bathroom, overwhelmed by what Gabe had done. He imagined Dad screaming at him and Nat crying. He imagined Dad throwing his stuff on the lawn, Mom standing behind him as he did. He imagined them sending him to the psyche warm to rot.
He bit down on his lip to stop himself from having a panic attack. God, his head hurt, his stomach hurt, everything hurt. Gabe should kill himself, it would help, it would stop everything from getting like this again. Stop it from getting bad.
Gabe got off the bus and started the walk up to his house. It was a bit isolated, no neighbors for almost a mile. Dad and Mom, but mostly Dad, had chosen the land to build the house on. Gabe thinks Dad chose it so Mom wouldn’t hurt any of the neighbors. Not that she had ever hurt them before. It was just—Mom accidentally burned down the old house. And she had ran down the street naked.
Mom didn’t try to hurt anyone, but she might accidentally hurt someone.
They had a long driveway, one that left Gabe panting after the walk from the bus station. Dad’s car wasn’t in the driveway, that was something, at least. He snuck into the house, trying not to make a sound.
When he got to the kitchen he had to lean on the counter, he felt like garbage. “What happened last night?” Natalie asked, which made Gabe jump out of his skin. He rubbed his forehead, knocking the sunglasses down the nose, and turned around.
Natalie was in one of Mom’s old shirts and PJ pants, “Dad took Mom to an emergency therapy session after your fight.” she told him, “So, what happened?” she looked like Mom. Her arms were crossed and she was glaring at him. Gabe swallowed, “Nothing, Nat, everything’s fine.” he said.
She stared at him, “You left and didn’t come home all night.” she said, “I just took a chapter out of your book.” Gabe said. Natalie’s jaw clenched, “Are you hungover?” she asked, “You know the look, huh?” he shot back.
His sister’s arms tightened around herself, “Fuck you, Gabe.” she said, “Love you too, sis.” Gabe muttered. Natalie was barely out of the kitchen when Gabe lurched toward the sink and retched into it. Shit.