More Time (ONC 2021)

Chapter 5 - The Crash

Trigger warning: This chapter discuss the possibility of self-harm and attempted suicide. It's not explicit but it is discussed.

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Shawn tore open his blinds that faced the street. Near the old tree where Mitch, Emily, and he used to play in Foster's yard, red tail lights glowed from a smoking truck.

Mitch's truck.

Shawn's heart nearly stopped, and the air crushed him like an avalanche. He couldn't lose another person he loved. Breaking free of the trapped feeling, he bolted down the stairs, ripped open the front door and ran barefoot through the snow, gravel, and ice until he reached the driver's side. His hand hesitated. Was he about to witness another Foster die?

Not on his watch.

Shawn flung open the door. Mitch was slumped over the steering wheel, his forehead dripping with crimson. Unsure about the smoke coming from the hood, Shawn moved Mitch from the truck. He dragged him a fair distance toward the house. Shawn's heartbeat thumped like a hammer over every bump that could injure his friend's spine. Shawn lay him on the ground, tearing off his t-shirt, and using it to stop the bleeding. Mitch groaned. At least a small sign he was alive. As Shawn bent down to check his breathing, its strong and regular rhythm reassured him. Mitch was going to be okay. He had to be.

"Oh Lord in Heaven," Darla muttered behind him. "What happened?"

"When I left the bonfire, he seemed fine..." Shawn said to himself. What had changed? Had he started drinking or gotten high? If Shawn had stayed, Mitch would have been okay, but yet again, he'd failed his friends.

"For Christ's sake!" Martin grumbled as he ran over. "What is he trying to do, drink his way into the grave next to hers?"

The comment hit Shawn like a tranquillizer dart. Mitch didn't smell like booze, nor had they stopped to buy anything to drink on the way to the bonfire. The people there weren't involved in drugs, to Shawn's knowledge. Last night, Mitch had told Shawn he loved him and thanked him for everything, which wasn't normal. Mitch's statements since Emily's death flew at Shawn.

I shouldn't be here.

Nothing I do matters.

I don't know how to live without her.

Ice ran through Shawn's veins. Was Martin partially right? Was Mitch was aiming for the grave but intentionally? He'd missed tonight, but what would happen next time? Why the hell had Shawn left his best friend alone at a bonfire the night of his sister's funeral? The man wasn't okay. Shawn had selfishly chosen to sleep over his friend's life and had missed all the signs. If Mitch didn't survive, Shawn deserved this pain ten times over. Some best friend he was.

Darla's sobs broke him from his thoughts. She pulled her son into her lap despite Shawn's protests. "You have to pull through, Mitchell, my sweet boy, you have to." She pressed the t-shirt bandage to his head.

Bottles clanged as Martin slammed the passenger truck door shut. "I'll wring his damned neck! His sister loses her life, and he's ready to throw his away."

On the ground, Mitch rolled and moaned.

"Go inside," Darla said to her husband.

"Not until—"

"Go. Inside. Now." The words were as sharp as the impact of the crash. Martin's boots slammed on the snow as he retreated to the house.

Darla cried freely and rested her head on Shawn's shoulder. "Rehab was hard enough with Emily, now Mitch... where do I find the strength?"