Unnatural Disaster #wattys2018

Harsh Winter

More angst for you.
*warning* mentions of suicide and suicidal thoughts

     He'd wrote a letter, left it on his desk, easy to find. He'd made sure to include how none of this was his parent's fault, and that they shouldn't blame themselves for any of it. He figured they'd like to be able to bask in the attention his death would bring them. Steve had tried to be delicate because he couldn't tell somebody really, why he was doing this. The People who would understand the nightmares, and the anxiety, and the fear that kept him from the woods at night. The sleepless nights and constant tension they were just kids and he couldn't tell them.

    Even now heading to his death he still feels the anxiety rising in his stomach, the heat flushing his already pink cheeks. He doesn't feel as guilty about this as he thinks he should. If he's being honest, Steve hasn't felt much of anything for a while, well nothing good. After the chaos had ended a new chaos had risen. A silent sneaky chaos that ruined everything good. It was easy to auto pilot his normal life with the kids and work. What was hard was the stuff outside of the routine. Trying to ignore the weapons he'd placed in his car, the baseball bat full of nails shoved under a blanket in his trunk. Waking from a nightmare in a large lonely house, flashes of blood and angry teeth keeping him awake. Wondering at what point he should give up entirely.

     Seeing Nancy and Jonathan together made it worse, not just because they were together but its how they acted around him when they were together. The looks they'd give him the constant well being checks. He felt like he was being monitored, like a goldfish in a tank. When he had been together with Nancy, it was a little easier to pretend things were normal because he knew he wasn't the only one pretending. He had a constant. Pretending hadn't been good enough for Nancy. Part of him wishes that he could blame it all on them, or school or his parents, He's sure that's what the rumors at school would say. Poor King Steve. His parents weren't there for him, his girlfriend didn't love him. His ego couldn't take it. But they wouldn't know. wouldn't really know.

     A sound snapped Steve out of his thoughts. He had been so lost in his head he couldn't recall the sound or where it came from. He froze for a moment listening cautiously. But there was nothing, he continued, picking up his pace. As the gravel crunched beneath his feet Steve suppresses a shudder, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets and trying to ignore the cold sting in his hands.

     When he reached the clearing he planted himself a few feet from the edge. He took in a deep breath. The panic returning he couldn't feel the cold. Suddenly it was too hot too much. Steve ripped off his jacket, aggressively whipping it over the edge of the quarry with a grunt. He kicked the gravel and planted himself again. Don't be a bitch Harrington. He stands there for so long he couldn't feel his body.

     A sharp sniff makes him jump nearly toppling over he catches himself turning to see Billy fucking Hargrove dark and brooding as always walking his way. He clutched his chest heaving in a breath.

     "Jesus Christ Hargrove what are you doing here! you scared the shit out of me," Billy chuckled lowly as he reached Steve's side, pulling his pack of smokes from his jacket.

     "Stopped for a smoke, what are you doing here?" He picked lighting his cigarette.

     "I couldn't sleep, needed a walk," Steve said blankly.

     "You walked! here? from your rich bitch little house on the hill?" Billy stated in shock.

     "What's it to you!?" Steve jeered, running his hand through his sweaty hair.

     "That's a long walk Harrington," Billy held the pack toward Steve. Steve took one, eyeing Billy carefully, trying to read the blue eyes shadowed by the relentless blond curls as Billy lit it.