Fix You ~Completed~

Act Thirty-Nine

You know, it was really stupid of Eddie to give me that bottle of painkillers when I left the hospital. He knew I had certain intentions and he just let me go without a single thought. Considering how suffocating his worrying usually was, I was surprised he didn't even blink an eye at giving me such an easy out.

I removed the lid from the little orange bottle, holding it with the hand attached to my broken arm while my other hand opened to let the pills spill out.

It's gonna be okay. Just like I told Eddie. Everyone is gonna be okay, I thought to myself, giving my reflection a good glare in the mirror. I already looked dead. Maybe that was because I'd been dying for so long.

"Jesus, open the door!" Kyla called. He sounded so done with me. He sounded like he'd be happy if I did kill myself. What a lovely boyfriend. "I am serious, Clem. Don't be a little prick, just open the door."

"I'm sorry!" I yelled back. "I won't. I can't."

"Are you cutting? Is that what this is? You're all knotted up about me being honest with you and now you need to bleed all over the fucking floor? I'm sick of cleaning up those messes, Clem. Get the fuck out here and I'll give you something to make you feel better."

Drugs. Alcohol. Lousy, worthless bandages that just turn against you!

My mouth spat out: "I am not like you, Kyla!"

The surprise was evident even from my side of things. "No, you're not," he mumbled. A click forced me to stumble a bit, but I kept my stance.

Kyla had a key to all the doors in the apartment, of course he did.

When he walked inside, I dropped my gaze. What I was about to do was obvious; I was standing in the bathroom, puffy faced, with a handful of painkillers. Any idiot could plainly see I was ready to off myself.

"Are you serious?"

All that anger left his voice. My Kyla sounded like a scared child who'd caught one of his parents packing their bags, prepared to leave him in the dust.

I choked on my sobs. "I can't do this anymore," I admitted. "I need it to stop, alright?"

Slowly, he came towards me, his hands held out in front of him. It looked like he was trying to approach a rabid animal. "C-Clem," he whispered, taking my bruised cheeks in his hands. I leaned into his touch, into his love, and stared down at our feet. Neither of us were wearing shoes; we kept our socks on around the house. Kyla had plain grey socks he'd been donning since high school, while I had foamy aqua ones on. They reminded me of Eddie and those pretty eyes of his.

"Clem," Kyla repeated, forcing me to pick my head up. His lips tasted like pasta sauce. He kissed me tenderly, his nose against mine and our foreheads brushing every few seconds when he went for a new angle on me.

With my one good hand, I gripped the pills, contemplating what I was really doing. How could I leave this? Kyla would never forgive me for leaving him. I'd never forgive me for leaving him. Even if he couldn't admit to being bi, I still knew he loved me. Kyla loved me so deeply.

When he pulled back, he gave my cheek a sharp smack. "You're a fucking pussy," he accused, his voice devoid of any of the love that had been overflowing earlier. "Go ahead. Kill yourself, Clem. See if I care. I promise, if you do, I won't go to your funeral. All you'll end up doing is proving those pricks that called you a freak all those years right. You'll be proving me right."

The pills fell to the floor. I couldn't even do it. Even with him egging me on, I was too afraid.

"I-I... I have plans tonight," I stammered in shock. "Eddie is... he's picking me up... Oh god, he's probably already here... and I was about to..."

To make things worse, there was a knock on the door just as I said that.