Bare/Feeling Electric: Catch My Fall
Fandom: Bare, a Pop Opera/Feeling Electric, aka Next to Normal
Title: Catch My Fall
Author: Ai (
armageddoni)
Pairing: Peter/Jason
Characters: Peter, Madden, with mentions of Jason
Word count: 1354
Genre: Angst
Rating: PG, for some language and mentions of suicide
Summary: Peter was dealing. That was all they could ask of him. [Post Bare, Bare/Feeling Electric crossover]
Notes: My characterization of Madden sucks in this fic. Sorry. Actually, the whole fic sucks.
Dedication: To my brain, for deciding to work again.
Disclaimer: I do not own Bare; Jon Hartmere and Damon Intrabartlo do. I do not own Feeling Electric; Brian Yorkey and Tom Kitt do.
Peter Simmons sat in the beige waiting room, his hands resting limply in his lap. Why was he here? You went to a psychologist to talk about feelings- how was Peter supposed to talk about his feelings when he was only feeling dead inside? The past three months, he’d been on automatic- study, sleep, eat, attend classes. Rinse and repeat. Rinse and repeat. And when one of his professors- he couldn’t remember their names- noticed, said professor decided, not to confront Peter, but to look at Peter’s personal file.
Peter clearly remembered the meeting where the school counselor had told him all of this- that they knew his roommate had died. That they thought he ‘wasn’t handling the death well’. That they were forcing him to see a shrink. The counselor had patted his hands, folded neatly before him, and told him that, although it may not seem like it, everyone else suffered their own emotional scars too.
That meeting had been one of the few moments in three months that Peter actually felt something. Anger. Rage. Stupid bitch. What did she know? And what kind of school had he chosen, that had a ‘counselor’? What did they expect him to do in these stupid sessions? Pour his heart out to a perfect stranger? Why had they decided to pick on him? Why couldn’t they just leave Peter and his grief alone? Yes, it hurt every day, but the hurt had started to numb. Peter was dealing. That was all they could ask of him.
The door to the office opened, and Peter jumped to his feet to greet the figure who emerged from the doorway.
It was a man- Peter had known that already, from the note he had been handed at the meeting. Dr. Albert Madden. But what Peter hadn’t expected was for him to look so young. He really couldn’t be much older than Peter himself. His hair was fair, and he was extremely pale. A pair of round wire-rimmed glasses rested on his face, making him appear slightly owlish.
“Peter Simmons?” the doctor asked. Peter could only nod dumbly. “I’m Dr. Madden. Would you like to come in?” Peter again nodded, and followed Madden through the door.
The doctor’s office was strangely impersonal- a few degrees hung in a perfect row on the wall. There was a bookcase and three filing cabinets, a desk, two chairs and a small couch. The carpeting beneath Peter’s feet was beige and flecked with black, and the walls were a peach Peter guessed were supposed to be warm and comforting, but instead made Peter think of the time he had vomited after ingesting two cans of cold Spagettios.
Madden gestured to the cream-colored couch. “Do you want to lay down, or just sit?” he asked. His voice was calm, not irritatingly perky but not condescending either. It told Peter the doctor was going to treat him like an adult- the first person to do so since the start of this whole fiasco.
“Sit,” Peter half-said, half-whispered. His voice came out slightly breathy, like he hadn’t spoken for a while. Peter eased himself into one of the two chairs, both identical brown leather. Madden did the same.
“So… let’s begin. Full name?”
“Peter James Simmons.”
“Age?”
“18-19 in a month and a half.”
“Uh huh…” Madden wrote some brief notes down, then looked up at Peter. “Peter, do you know why you’re here?” he asked.
Peter was thrown slightly off-guard for a moment. “Because they told me I needed to be here, or they’d kick me out of school,” he finally said. It was the longest response he’d given to a question in three months.
And why are the demanding you come here? Did you get into trouble?”
“No,” Peter snapped. “You know why I’m here. They sent you my file.”
“I want to hear it from you. Why are they making you come here?”
Peter sighed and tried to remember what the annoying counselor had said to him. “Because I need… some help in dealing with a… personal tragedy,” he finally said.
“What kind of personal tragedy? Did your remote break? Did your cat die? Did your mother die? Were you raped?”
Peter’s brow furrowed. What the hell? What was Madden getting at? He knew all the answers already. Why was he forcing Peter to answer all these questions? “My roommate died,” he said slowly.
“That’s it?” Madden asked, one eyebrow raised. “Your roommate just died? Did you kill him?”
“No!” Peter snapped. “He killed himself.”
“But you feel guilty about it?”
“No!” Yes.
“So what makes your roommate dying so important? How is that a personal tragedy?”
Peter sat, stunned. Was Madden saying Jason’s death shouldn’t matter all that much to him? “I… we… I loved him,” he admitted finally.
“You two were in a relationship?” Madden asked.
“Yeah, sorta…” Peter trailed off, remembering that last rehearsal, when it all had started to spin out of control.
“Sorta?” Madden raised an eyebrow. “Did you break up?”
“He… he got a girl pregnant,” Peter said. “And… someone told everyone about us.”
“You never told anyone about your relationship?”
“We went to a Catholic school. There was no one we could tell,” Peter told him bitterly.
“So… you had a sort of falling out, and he died shortly thereafter. Why would that matter?”
“Matter?!” Peter exploded. “I loved him!”
“Did he love you?”
Peter froze, the color draining away from his face. “He said he did…”
“But did he mean it? He slept with a girl, for goodness sake, during the course of your relationship.”
“We had just had a fight!”
“Another fight? Would you like to tell me about that?”
“I wanted to tell my mother about… us. He wouldn’t- couldn’t- tell. We argued. We fought. I tried to call him afterwards to apologize, but he didn’t pick up.”
“Why not? Was he still angry at you?”
“I… I dunno. I didn’t really care. At that point, I just wanted for us to stop fighting. I hated it when we fought.”
“Why?”
Why. What a stupid question. “Because I couldn’t stand it when we weren’t together. It… it made me sick, when we fought. It felt like there was no reason to live anymore.”
“So your relationship with him was your reason for living? That doesn’t sound very healthy.”
Peter looked at the doctor, a mix of awe and disgust on his face. “Haven’t you ever loved someone? So much that it hurts?”
“That really doesn’t sound like the basis of a healthy relationship.”
“You’ve never been in love, have you?”
Madden was starting to look slightly uncomfortable. “I don’t see how me being in love pertains to your relationship with your roommate.”
Peter sighed. “When you’re that deeply in love… every moment away hurts you. Your bones ache. You would do anything for them. It’s like a drug… it doesn’t make any sense, but you would die for your love. You would kill for your love. Logic and reason don’t matter- all that matters is that you keep on loving each other.”
Madden paused, and scanned Peter’s face for a moment. “And you loved him that much?” he asked quietly.
Peter sat, not meeting the doctor’s eyes. Did he? He thought he did. But that night, the night of Jason’s death… Jason had begged for Peter to run away with him. And Peter hadn’t. Had it been because Peter was tired of running, or had it been because he wasn’t sure that, once they had run away, Peter would have stayed with Jason? Maybe he realized that you only know that love lasts forever when forever ends. So did he really love Jason that much?
“I once did…” he murmured. “Back before things got complicated.”
Madden, who had been watching Peter’s face this whole time, nodded. “We’re done for today,” he said simply. He paused for a moment. “Thank you,” he said finally. “For doing this for yourself.”
“I’m not doing it for myself,” Peter said, getting up and going to the door. “I’m doing it because Jason would have wanted me to.”
Title: Catch My Fall
Author: Ai (
armageddoni)
Pairing: Peter/Jason
Characters: Peter, Madden, with mentions of Jason
Word count: 1354
Genre: Angst
Rating: PG, for some language and mentions of suicide
Summary: Peter was dealing. That was all they could ask of him. [Post Bare, Bare/Feeling Electric crossover]
Notes: My characterization of Madden sucks in this fic. Sorry. Actually, the whole fic sucks.
Dedication: To my brain, for deciding to work again.
Disclaimer: I do not own Bare; Jon Hartmere and Damon Intrabartlo do. I do not own Feeling Electric; Brian Yorkey and Tom Kitt do.
Peter Simmons sat in the beige waiting room, his hands resting limply in his lap. Why was he here? You went to a psychologist to talk about feelings- how was Peter supposed to talk about his feelings when he was only feeling dead inside? The past three months, he’d been on automatic- study, sleep, eat, attend classes. Rinse and repeat. Rinse and repeat. And when one of his professors- he couldn’t remember their names- noticed, said professor decided, not to confront Peter, but to look at Peter’s personal file.
Peter clearly remembered the meeting where the school counselor had told him all of this- that they knew his roommate had died. That they thought he ‘wasn’t handling the death well’. That they were forcing him to see a shrink. The counselor had patted his hands, folded neatly before him, and told him that, although it may not seem like it, everyone else suffered their own emotional scars too.
That meeting had been one of the few moments in three months that Peter actually felt something. Anger. Rage. Stupid bitch. What did she know? And what kind of school had he chosen, that had a ‘counselor’? What did they expect him to do in these stupid sessions? Pour his heart out to a perfect stranger? Why had they decided to pick on him? Why couldn’t they just leave Peter and his grief alone? Yes, it hurt every day, but the hurt had started to numb. Peter was dealing. That was all they could ask of him.
The door to the office opened, and Peter jumped to his feet to greet the figure who emerged from the doorway.
It was a man- Peter had known that already, from the note he had been handed at the meeting. Dr. Albert Madden. But what Peter hadn’t expected was for him to look so young. He really couldn’t be much older than Peter himself. His hair was fair, and he was extremely pale. A pair of round wire-rimmed glasses rested on his face, making him appear slightly owlish.
“Peter Simmons?” the doctor asked. Peter could only nod dumbly. “I’m Dr. Madden. Would you like to come in?” Peter again nodded, and followed Madden through the door.
The doctor’s office was strangely impersonal- a few degrees hung in a perfect row on the wall. There was a bookcase and three filing cabinets, a desk, two chairs and a small couch. The carpeting beneath Peter’s feet was beige and flecked with black, and the walls were a peach Peter guessed were supposed to be warm and comforting, but instead made Peter think of the time he had vomited after ingesting two cans of cold Spagettios.
Madden gestured to the cream-colored couch. “Do you want to lay down, or just sit?” he asked. His voice was calm, not irritatingly perky but not condescending either. It told Peter the doctor was going to treat him like an adult- the first person to do so since the start of this whole fiasco.
“Sit,” Peter half-said, half-whispered. His voice came out slightly breathy, like he hadn’t spoken for a while. Peter eased himself into one of the two chairs, both identical brown leather. Madden did the same.
“So… let’s begin. Full name?”
“Peter James Simmons.”
“Age?”
“18-19 in a month and a half.”
“Uh huh…” Madden wrote some brief notes down, then looked up at Peter. “Peter, do you know why you’re here?” he asked.
Peter was thrown slightly off-guard for a moment. “Because they told me I needed to be here, or they’d kick me out of school,” he finally said. It was the longest response he’d given to a question in three months.
And why are the demanding you come here? Did you get into trouble?”
“No,” Peter snapped. “You know why I’m here. They sent you my file.”
“I want to hear it from you. Why are they making you come here?”
Peter sighed and tried to remember what the annoying counselor had said to him. “Because I need… some help in dealing with a… personal tragedy,” he finally said.
“What kind of personal tragedy? Did your remote break? Did your cat die? Did your mother die? Were you raped?”
Peter’s brow furrowed. What the hell? What was Madden getting at? He knew all the answers already. Why was he forcing Peter to answer all these questions? “My roommate died,” he said slowly.
“That’s it?” Madden asked, one eyebrow raised. “Your roommate just died? Did you kill him?”
“No!” Peter snapped. “He killed himself.”
“But you feel guilty about it?”
“No!” Yes.
“So what makes your roommate dying so important? How is that a personal tragedy?”
Peter sat, stunned. Was Madden saying Jason’s death shouldn’t matter all that much to him? “I… we… I loved him,” he admitted finally.
“You two were in a relationship?” Madden asked.
“Yeah, sorta…” Peter trailed off, remembering that last rehearsal, when it all had started to spin out of control.
“Sorta?” Madden raised an eyebrow. “Did you break up?”
“He… he got a girl pregnant,” Peter said. “And… someone told everyone about us.”
“You never told anyone about your relationship?”
“We went to a Catholic school. There was no one we could tell,” Peter told him bitterly.
“So… you had a sort of falling out, and he died shortly thereafter. Why would that matter?”
“Matter?!” Peter exploded. “I loved him!”
“Did he love you?”
Peter froze, the color draining away from his face. “He said he did…”
“But did he mean it? He slept with a girl, for goodness sake, during the course of your relationship.”
“We had just had a fight!”
“Another fight? Would you like to tell me about that?”
“I wanted to tell my mother about… us. He wouldn’t- couldn’t- tell. We argued. We fought. I tried to call him afterwards to apologize, but he didn’t pick up.”
“Why not? Was he still angry at you?”
“I… I dunno. I didn’t really care. At that point, I just wanted for us to stop fighting. I hated it when we fought.”
“Why?”
Why. What a stupid question. “Because I couldn’t stand it when we weren’t together. It… it made me sick, when we fought. It felt like there was no reason to live anymore.”
“So your relationship with him was your reason for living? That doesn’t sound very healthy.”
Peter looked at the doctor, a mix of awe and disgust on his face. “Haven’t you ever loved someone? So much that it hurts?”
“That really doesn’t sound like the basis of a healthy relationship.”
“You’ve never been in love, have you?”
Madden was starting to look slightly uncomfortable. “I don’t see how me being in love pertains to your relationship with your roommate.”
Peter sighed. “When you’re that deeply in love… every moment away hurts you. Your bones ache. You would do anything for them. It’s like a drug… it doesn’t make any sense, but you would die for your love. You would kill for your love. Logic and reason don’t matter- all that matters is that you keep on loving each other.”
Madden paused, and scanned Peter’s face for a moment. “And you loved him that much?” he asked quietly.
Peter sat, not meeting the doctor’s eyes. Did he? He thought he did. But that night, the night of Jason’s death… Jason had begged for Peter to run away with him. And Peter hadn’t. Had it been because Peter was tired of running, or had it been because he wasn’t sure that, once they had run away, Peter would have stayed with Jason? Maybe he realized that you only know that love lasts forever when forever ends. So did he really love Jason that much?
“I once did…” he murmured. “Back before things got complicated.”
Madden, who had been watching Peter’s face this whole time, nodded. “We’re done for today,” he said simply. He paused for a moment. “Thank you,” he said finally. “For doing this for yourself.”
“I’m not doing it for myself,” Peter said, getting up and going to the door. “I’m doing it because Jason would have wanted me to.”