Slow Changes (Whizzvin)

Part XXVI. Dammit, Marvin

Marvin's on anti depressants for something called "melancholia", but they're literally just making him sentimental but not depressed due to being sentimental. He's confident and sentimental. So what does he do? He calls Whizzer in the most cocky way ever and ends up apologizing in the end. For everything.

No trigger warnings besides like pill mentions? But that's really all. Like no ODing, just mentions of pills. A bit sexual in some part.

Marvin's Point of View: 10:34am, July 16th, 1980.

Whizzer. I missed Whizzer. I'm over him and I'm no longer sad about what happened, I just miss Whizzer. I don't know why. The pills are supposed to make it better, but I miss Whizzer more than I should. I realize that I shouldn't miss him if I ended the relationship, but I still miss him. I want to have a healthy relationship with him, but all I can do for now is apologize.

I build up some self confidence and flick through the address book. I find his number and dial it. He answers in two rings. "You've reached the Weisenbachfeld family. This is Whizzer." I sigh. "Please don't hang up." Whizzer wasn't there but you could tell he was rolling his eyes. "I called you to apologize. For hurting you, for forcing you to do the dishes, for making you cook, for everything. Emotional and physical."

Whizzer laughs. "That apology is really overdue, Marv." The way he said Marv. It was teasing and tempting, but not sexual. Or maybe I was just imagining it. Maybe I was crazy. Fucking bonkers. "I know. I just was too sad to apologize before." Whizzer laughed. "I don't mean to be an ass, I'm glad you apologized, but you were sad? You were sad that I got hurt? Wow."

I smiled, but a "what the fuck have I done to this man" smile. "I was sad because I missed the good parts." I hung up before I did something stupid. I didn't want him to think I was in love with him still. My emotions for him are so bipolar, I swear. I loved him more than I hated him, but I hated loving him. Because I knew he hated me. And I was supposed to change and get over him.

When am I going to get over this? When? I want to get over not having a lover anymore. I tried newspaper column hookups and I haven't done those recently because meaningless sex isn't a relationship to me anymore.

When I get back together with Whizzer, if I do, I'm going to actually love him. I promise. I'm making this goddamn promise to myself. But he never even wanted to love me. He didn't want to have that type of relationship.

I'm going to have to go to the library. I have to do some research on this. Because I think I just placebo-ed myself. I found books and apparently this doesn't work right away and just helps with symptoms. I placebo-ed myself. Goddamn it. That's why I still was sad. It was supposed to help symptoms, just not cure it. And it was supposed to show major effects in a MONTH.

I sighed. I thought I was automatically going to be better, but no. It just makes symptoms way better in a month. Fuck this. Fuck medication. Well medication is useful, I'm not going off to chew herbs to cure my homosexuality or anything.

Now I'm the person having a breakdown in the library with books on medications for melancholia. Fuck this. I swear. I love how I actually thought some tiny pill would cure my depression. Imipramine is a boring name. Who would trust something with a name like imipramine?

I called him for nothing. He hates me even more now. I swear. I can't even function right now. It sucks to be me. I start sobbing more and a woman just covers her child's eyes. God fucking dammit. I can't do this anymore. I sob more. Is he still queer? Would he still love me? No. He wouldn't. He probably found a hot girl or something! A hot girl who does modeling and likes cereal and hiking and long walks on the beach.

Whizzer would always go to the beach when we argued. He said it was therapeutic. Like the waves calmed him or some shit. Now, I believed it was bullshit but whatever worked for him, I guess. He was beautiful and he would probably look hot while naked on a beach. Or on a beefcake calendar. Or on a nudie calendar. Or sprawled out on the beach, sand in his hair messing it up while you tug at it and-

Snap out of it, Marvin. For fuck's sake. Don't sexualize your ex. Don't still be in love with your ex. Don't. Just get over him. You fucked up everything you could possibly have with him today. And he hates you still. He was lying about accepting the apology. And that's when I just got up and left the library. It escalated. Quickly.

My life was like a downward spiral, slowly sinking until you think you've hit rock bottom. And when you think it can't get any worse, it does. The universe hates you. And you hate the universe. Because everything can get worse. And it will get worse. I got all of his stuff out. That's what I thought I needed to let go. But I still can't let go of him. I can't get over this. I don't think and fall down the stairs leading to the library's entrance.

I hit my head with a thud and hurt my legs, but choose to ignore it and limp to the car. I'll just prop it up when I get home. That's all I need to do. Don't cry, Marvin, you're a man. You're a man and men don't cry. And men don't love other men. And then I was actually crying. The pain, the fact that I couldn't even move my foot to hit the gas pedal. Everything hurt.

And then the rest of my day was spent in the hospital where they said I fractured a leg and gave me crutches. Boring things. I look like a pussy with these crutches or something. Not to be a dick, I just look stupid with them. How would Whizzer and I get back together? Would we? What the fuck should I do now?

A/N: 1080 words. I changed Marvin's diagnosis to melancholia because that was more of a 1980 proper depression term. Sigmund Freud thought that melancholia could be caused due to breakups, fun fact.