The Soufflés That Got Burnt (Whouffle One Shots)

Making Sure

(A/N: Lots of cursing and a bit of self harm.)

Clara didn't want to hear it, but she could hear the slow footsteps of her roommate, the Doctor, or John Smith. She knew where he was going, she knew what he had in his hand.

A knife he kept hidden in his room, she knew. She knew what he was going to do.

It's not like she didn't want to stop him, she actually loved him with every fiber of her being. She wanted to, ever so badly. She didn't want him to suffer, but ever since she found out, she chose to keep quiet. He started to distance himself away from her, which hurt her a lot.

"Oh Doctor..." She mumbled, tears threatening to fall as she heard the groans and pain from the bathroom in the hallway.

Meanwhile, the Doctor was cutting bits of his leg, feeling the pain jolt from his leg.

He'll be honest with himself, saying he wanted to die. And he was serious. The stings of the blade weren't enough so he decided to take it just a step forward, standing up ever so slowly as he opened the medicine cabinet and took pills randomly, knowing they were all medication and it made no difference. As he opened it, he took a handful out and took them all in one gulp.

Clara heard the pills and knew that wasn't for him, he was to overdose. She ran out of her bedroom, tears still falling as she opened the bathroom door to see the mess of John Smith. She fell to his knees, shaking, and crawled on her hands and knees across the cold floor.

"You took this too far!" Clara yelled at him. "Remember my little confession of doing this too?" She felt a numb sensation in the back of her mind. It had been far too long since she had a peaceful night's sleep. She was constantly awake, and tonight, it seemed, was the night she would snap.
She didn't understand what was coming out of her mouth- babbling senseless words and phrases that didn't seem to register in her mind.
She shook her head, more tears flowing from her eyes. "I thought you just needed some space... A physical way to vent, and so I pretended not to notice. Every night I curl up into a ball wishing it would stop, but you just..." Clara clenched her eyes shut. "...You can't die. This is too far..." she cried.

What was she even saying?

Just the other day it had been as it always was- brief nods, laughing at shows, telling each other about their day... and even helping each other with homework, but now... everything just seemed so wrong.

John didn't open his eyes, just smiled up at her, "I've wanted this for years. I have no regrets." He murmured, fading.

Clara choked on her own tears, and flattened the man's hair neatly.

"N-No regrets?!" Clara asked, staring at the man she loves. The man she knew ever since she moved to a new neighborhood when they were children. She remembered that if this was indeed the last time she was ever going to see the man she loved, she was going to make it count.

"Y-You can't die. You're... You're so important to me..." She mumbled, hugging him tightly.

"Nice job, falling in love with someone who's dying- but you're just saying that. You let me get worse and worse over the years, and you never tried to help me. Not once." She let go and stared at his statement. He... He wanted her to help?

"I... I remembered you said you wanted space so I gave you some... I didn't want to intervene, thinking you might leave me... I can't do anything!" She started to cry some more. She found herself looking at the bottle he overdosed with.

"That medicine was mine. Mine. If you're to overdose with this... I'll never forgive myself." She continued, picking it up slowly. She slowly unscrewed the cap and took out one. "If you are to die... I'll do it with you." She was putting it in his mouth but he grabbed her wrist, preventing her.