Schizophrenic Steve || ʙʟᴜᴇꜱ ᴄʟᴜᴇꜱ

Seperation Anxiety

(A/N: This chapter also features Joe <3)

After the weekend with his brother, Steve decided to try taking medication. He only did this for Joe.

He got a pill, a cup of water, he glared at the pill before reluctantly taking it. His hand was slightly shaking as he was doing so. He drank some water and sighed, hoping to feel better in a bit.

OK, hopefully it doesn't take too long to kick in. Now, what to do in the meanwhile? Steve thinks, maybe simply drawing can be fun. Steve drew a lot as a kid. Unfortunately he can't remember much of his childhood though. He wasn't much of an art fan but he felt connected to drawing.

He went into his room and grabbed his leather journal with a black pen. He sat down on his bed, the atmosphere felt gloomy yet perfect. It was raining outside, Steve was able to hear the raindrops. Though he can't remember it, it reminded him of the nights he'd spend in his room as a kid while his mom was out. While he was paranoid of whatever can happen while she was gone. Whatever can change a life in just a flash.

Steve opened his journal to see previous sketches he'd forgotten about. These sketches were.. unique to say the least. It wasn't anything perfect, not beautiful to the naked eye but maybe it was beautiful because of what made Steve draw it.

What was the inspiration? Oh, poor Steve. It was his paranoia.

Scribbled sketches of figures. It was difficult to understand what was going on in the image. But if you had a mind somewhat like Steves then it wasn't hard to see. Shadowy, fainted figures. Something that you'd see in a nightmare. Something that was actually panic inducing. It was like melted, disfigured bodies with black blood spilling out any hole. Steve gazed at this drawings feeling more conflicted.

His mind and heart couldn't help but race. He realized another fear he had but he forgotten the word for it. "What the word? Oh— Separation anxiety," he thought. For as long as he could remember he had severe separation anxiety. Everything just kinda caved in when his dad died while he was 6.

Since then anytime Steve looked at his own reflection all he could see was his dad. His eyes, his nose, his jawline, hair, everything. He looked just like his dad and that made him sick.

It sucks because Steve was at the age where he believed his dad was the best man in the world. Maybe since the stories his dad would tell him would put him in awe. He didn't get to grow up and slowly realize that his dad wasn't perfect. He never got to realize his dad was like anyone else and just as disappointing. The more Steve got older the more he looked just like him. Steve hated getting older.

It all came back to Steve in this moment. He sat, staring at the drawings he made. The paranoia, the anxiety, the things taken from him. It frustrated him. Maybe not in a 'disappointed-mad' way, but like, more in a 'kill someone-furious' way. He could understand why murder was a thing now. Perhaps others wanted to get revenge on the world for taking the things they loved.

Tears formed in Steves dark brown pained eyes. As he blinked the tears spilled on rolled down his cheek, hitting the corner of the paper the drawing was on like a raindrop. More raindrops as more tears fell. More tears fell and.. Steve was in another episode. One of frustration over lose. Felt like his heart was aching. This silent sobbing wasn't so silent after a while. He was panting, giving everything he had. His door was left slightly opened and Blue heard. She stood outside his door, unsure if it would be a good time to come in or not. She wanted to comfort him but maybe Steve wasn't in the right state for anybody.

Suddenly Steve got up, walked out of his room and straight to the phone. He wiped the tears on his face with his sleeve and dialed his brother. The phone rang and he held it up patiently to him, silently praying for his brother to pick up soon. "Please please please, just pick up," Steve mumbled until the ringing stopped. Finally, his brother actually picked up.

"Hello?" Joe said to the other line. Steve sighed, the crying and pain not subtle in his voice at all. "Hey Joe, it's me your brother. Um, sorry if it's not a good time but you're all that I have right now and I just really need you to know that. And if anything fucking happens to you I swear to God"-

Joe cut him off before Steve could start to explain how he'd murder innocent people if anything bad happened to him.

"Steve! Hey, wait, slow down. You don't sound so good. Wh- What happened?" Joe was clearly concerned.

"Joe." Steve replied in a stern voice. "Listen, don't worry, I took my meds okay? I'm not scared— well, I am. I'm scared of loosing you. I just don't think I'd be able to handle it at all. I'd completely loose it. I'd literally die, I just..."

As Steve went on Joe could feel his own heart slowly ache.

"Steve, stop. I'm right here, not going anywhere." Joe sighed. "Just... What made you think of this in the first place if you've been taking your meds?"

"Oh." Steve paused. "I just wanted to draw something so I opened my journal and- and I saw my previous drawings I did the other times I was feeling down I guess. I over analyzed it because I remembered why I drew those. I draw whenever I feel miserable because of the things that happened. So I started to think, hah I guess I think too much."

...

"Sorry that I can't get over it and now you have to deal with me. I'm uh, just very emotional I guess." Steve apologized out of guilt. He couldn't imagine the things he put his little brother through just because of his own neurosis. "I love you, bro."

Joe wanted to say something, but he was just kinda frozen. He didn't expect his brother to just spill his heart out like that. Well, he knew his brother was pretty fucked up. But damn, he was so emotional. It broke him down. After the weekend they had together Joe definitely learned more about his brother. Nothing he didn't know before, it's just that things really got bad. Steve hasn't opened up like this in.. forever.

"Steve..." a tear rolled down Joes face. "Don't worry. You'll never 'loose' me. Just clear your mind. I don't want anything bad to happen to you." Joe sighed. Maybe the chances of Steve getting hurt instead of Joe was more likely because of Steves mental conditions.

"Take care of yourself. I'll try to call you more often. Maybe even visit more if that'll help? I'll do what I can to help. You're the smartest person I know, Steve."

This made Steve feel feverish.

"Get some rest, you need it."