no response (standalone)
Title: no response (standalone)
Author: unseeming
Rating: R
Pairing: you’ll see
POV: Ryan
Summary: The worst thing about suicide is that it’s permanent. Once you pull the trigger or jump in front of that car, there’s no going back, you know. And what sucks is when just as it becomes too late to be saved, the best thing in the world happens to you. But you’re about to die in ten seconds. And that’s when you truly hate yourself.
Disclaimer: not true. and I’m not suicidal.
Author Notes: first story I’ve written in a while. enjoy.
He barely makes it through the doorway of his bedroom before he bursts into tears.
He shuts the door and locks it for the last time and then curls up on the bed in a ball and lays there, just sobbing for a couple minutes, into his pillow.
Then he reminds himself that this time he's going to do something different; this escape to his room is going to be different from all the others. This will be the last one.
A few more hot tears roll down his face, burning his skin, and he wipes them away as he gets up. He opens his dresser and digs through it for a moment, quickly finding the little bottle he’s hidden in the back. He takes it and his hands quiver a little as he pushes down and twists effortlessly to open it. The lid falls to the floor and rolls under the bed but he doesn’t notice; he’s dumping the contents of the bottle into his hands. He stares at the pills blankly for a few moments. Little, round, white, and deadly.
Another warm drop trickles down his cheek as he raises his trembling hands to his open mouth and dumps the dozens of pills in. He gags a little at first from the slightly bitter taste and the large amount, but forces himself to swallow. He can feel each individual capsule slowly crawl down his throat like little spiders. It takes a few gulps but soon the pills are gone, buried inside his body, beginning their lethal work.
He doesn’t feel anything at first, just the sickening aftertaste of his killer. But then all of a sudden a huge wave of dizziness hits him and he loses his balance and falls back onto the bed. That’s when it starts. Everything turns into chaos. Quiet, deadly chaos. His insides are on fire, his stomach burns like someone smothered it in gasoline and lit a match to it, his head aches so much he seriously thinks it’s going to explode. He clutches his body and squeezes his eyes shut, trying to moan, but it hurts so bad he can’t even make a sound. He wants to throw up but he doesn’t have the strength, and he knows that if he does there is a remote chance he could be saved. He’s come this far and he’s not going to endure all this pain for nothing. He needs to die.
He opens his eyes and tries to look around the room, but everything’s blurry and swirling around him in circles. He manages to focus on one familiar object laying on his nightstand: a pair of scissors. He grabs them clumsily and without hesitation slices the cool blade through his wrists to speed this up. He just wants to get it all over with. Blood gushes out and stains everything red and he knows it should hurt like hell but he can barely feel anything besides the flames inside his body.
Another headache jolts him, if it’s even possible to have multiple headaches at the same time, and he drops the scissors onto the floor. He moans a little into his pillow and coughs. The pillow is suddenly very damp. He raises his head and sees that the pillow’s stained red. He lets out another cough and blood trickles out down his chin.
How long will this take? His life isn’t flashing before his eyes yet. He wonders if that really does happen to people or if it’s just in the movies. Then he wonders if he even wants to see a review of his life. He quickly decides he doesn’t. He doesn’t need reminders of why he’s here crashing and burning and coughing up his insides.
He’s suddenly aware of his heartbeat’s pace and that it’s quickening rapidly. He puts his hand on his chest and feels it pounding through his ribs. It feels like it’s going to explode, just like the rest of him.
Just then he realizes he’s hearing something: a faint buzzing noise. It’s his phone on his nightstand, vibrating. Who the hell is calling him? He manages to move towards it and has to bring the blurry outline of the phone right up to his face to read the caller ID. And when he realizes what it says, he doesn’t believe it at first.
He rubs his eyes, smearing blood from his wrist all over his face, but it still says the same name.
Brendon.
His quivering hand, the hand that no one has ever held, slowly flips open his phone and presses it to his ear.
“Ryan?”
“Yes?” he manages to croak in reply.
“I… I need to talk to you.”
He doesn’t reply, just listens desperately to the beautiful voice that he just has to be imagining.
“I saw you today at school and… I don’t know, you just looked different today. Your eyes. Maybe it’s just me, but they looked so… so lifeless. Are you okay?”
Just then something in his throat causes him to choke and he coughs horribly, sending blood spattering all over the bed again.
“Holy shit! Ryan! What was that?! Are you okay?!”
“N-no,” he says hoarsely with another cough. “I’m-” He’s interrupted by another cough, and he clutches his stomach with a loud moan.
“Ryan!! What the hell is going on?!”
“I’m- I’m dying, Bren, I’m gonna… gonna die.”
“WHAT?! Ryan! What happened?!”
“Why are you t-talking to me?” he asks for no reason; the words just fall out, like the vomit that comes a second later.
“I care about you, Ryan, I love you!”
“W-what?!”
“I love you.”
His eyes instantly overflow with tidal waves of tears and he chokes out a sob. Like, he literally chokes as he does it. He doesn’t know why, but suddenly he can’t breathe. And he realizes, horribly, that fuck, he doesn’t want to die if Brendon loves him.
“Ryan?!”
“I don’t want to die, Brendon,” he whispers as another sob escapes.
“I’m calling 911.”
“You’re too late, Brendon, I’m gonna die, I’m g-gonna fucking die!!!”
He throws up again. His throat sears with pain.
“Calm down, Ryan, it’s gonna be okay! Everything will be all right!” says Brendon, sounding like he's trying to convince himself more than the boy who he’s talking to.
“I don’t wanna die, Brenny, I just…” He can’t breathe. Suddenly everything begins to fade. He knows his end has come. “I want to be with you forever.”
Then everything on the other end of the line goes silent.
“Ryan? Ryan? Can you hear me?”
No response.
Author: unseeming
Rating: R
Pairing: you’ll see
POV: Ryan
Summary: The worst thing about suicide is that it’s permanent. Once you pull the trigger or jump in front of that car, there’s no going back, you know. And what sucks is when just as it becomes too late to be saved, the best thing in the world happens to you. But you’re about to die in ten seconds. And that’s when you truly hate yourself.
Disclaimer: not true. and I’m not suicidal.
Author Notes: first story I’ve written in a while. enjoy.
He barely makes it through the doorway of his bedroom before he bursts into tears.
He shuts the door and locks it for the last time and then curls up on the bed in a ball and lays there, just sobbing for a couple minutes, into his pillow.
Then he reminds himself that this time he's going to do something different; this escape to his room is going to be different from all the others. This will be the last one.
A few more hot tears roll down his face, burning his skin, and he wipes them away as he gets up. He opens his dresser and digs through it for a moment, quickly finding the little bottle he’s hidden in the back. He takes it and his hands quiver a little as he pushes down and twists effortlessly to open it. The lid falls to the floor and rolls under the bed but he doesn’t notice; he’s dumping the contents of the bottle into his hands. He stares at the pills blankly for a few moments. Little, round, white, and deadly.
Another warm drop trickles down his cheek as he raises his trembling hands to his open mouth and dumps the dozens of pills in. He gags a little at first from the slightly bitter taste and the large amount, but forces himself to swallow. He can feel each individual capsule slowly crawl down his throat like little spiders. It takes a few gulps but soon the pills are gone, buried inside his body, beginning their lethal work.
He doesn’t feel anything at first, just the sickening aftertaste of his killer. But then all of a sudden a huge wave of dizziness hits him and he loses his balance and falls back onto the bed. That’s when it starts. Everything turns into chaos. Quiet, deadly chaos. His insides are on fire, his stomach burns like someone smothered it in gasoline and lit a match to it, his head aches so much he seriously thinks it’s going to explode. He clutches his body and squeezes his eyes shut, trying to moan, but it hurts so bad he can’t even make a sound. He wants to throw up but he doesn’t have the strength, and he knows that if he does there is a remote chance he could be saved. He’s come this far and he’s not going to endure all this pain for nothing. He needs to die.
He opens his eyes and tries to look around the room, but everything’s blurry and swirling around him in circles. He manages to focus on one familiar object laying on his nightstand: a pair of scissors. He grabs them clumsily and without hesitation slices the cool blade through his wrists to speed this up. He just wants to get it all over with. Blood gushes out and stains everything red and he knows it should hurt like hell but he can barely feel anything besides the flames inside his body.
Another headache jolts him, if it’s even possible to have multiple headaches at the same time, and he drops the scissors onto the floor. He moans a little into his pillow and coughs. The pillow is suddenly very damp. He raises his head and sees that the pillow’s stained red. He lets out another cough and blood trickles out down his chin.
How long will this take? His life isn’t flashing before his eyes yet. He wonders if that really does happen to people or if it’s just in the movies. Then he wonders if he even wants to see a review of his life. He quickly decides he doesn’t. He doesn’t need reminders of why he’s here crashing and burning and coughing up his insides.
He’s suddenly aware of his heartbeat’s pace and that it’s quickening rapidly. He puts his hand on his chest and feels it pounding through his ribs. It feels like it’s going to explode, just like the rest of him.
Just then he realizes he’s hearing something: a faint buzzing noise. It’s his phone on his nightstand, vibrating. Who the hell is calling him? He manages to move towards it and has to bring the blurry outline of the phone right up to his face to read the caller ID. And when he realizes what it says, he doesn’t believe it at first.
He rubs his eyes, smearing blood from his wrist all over his face, but it still says the same name.
Brendon.
His quivering hand, the hand that no one has ever held, slowly flips open his phone and presses it to his ear.
“Ryan?”
“Yes?” he manages to croak in reply.
“I… I need to talk to you.”
He doesn’t reply, just listens desperately to the beautiful voice that he just has to be imagining.
“I saw you today at school and… I don’t know, you just looked different today. Your eyes. Maybe it’s just me, but they looked so… so lifeless. Are you okay?”
Just then something in his throat causes him to choke and he coughs horribly, sending blood spattering all over the bed again.
“Holy shit! Ryan! What was that?! Are you okay?!”
“N-no,” he says hoarsely with another cough. “I’m-” He’s interrupted by another cough, and he clutches his stomach with a loud moan.
“Ryan!! What the hell is going on?!”
“I’m- I’m dying, Bren, I’m gonna… gonna die.”
“WHAT?! Ryan! What happened?!”
“Why are you t-talking to me?” he asks for no reason; the words just fall out, like the vomit that comes a second later.
“I care about you, Ryan, I love you!”
“W-what?!”
“I love you.”
His eyes instantly overflow with tidal waves of tears and he chokes out a sob. Like, he literally chokes as he does it. He doesn’t know why, but suddenly he can’t breathe. And he realizes, horribly, that fuck, he doesn’t want to die if Brendon loves him.
“Ryan?!”
“I don’t want to die, Brendon,” he whispers as another sob escapes.
“I’m calling 911.”
“You’re too late, Brendon, I’m gonna die, I’m g-gonna fucking die!!!”
He throws up again. His throat sears with pain.
“Calm down, Ryan, it’s gonna be okay! Everything will be all right!” says Brendon, sounding like he's trying to convince himself more than the boy who he’s talking to.
“I don’t wanna die, Brenny, I just…” He can’t breathe. Suddenly everything begins to fade. He knows his end has come. “I want to be with you forever.”
Then everything on the other end of the line goes silent.
“Ryan? Ryan? Can you hear me?”
No response.