RoadTripTV And Mikey Cobban One Shots

MACK | End It

-EDITED-
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Trigger Warning
Mentions of self harm and suicidal thoughts.
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Warning: It's a sad one
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Shuddering breaths flew from Jack's chest. His knees were clutched against his chest, and he rocked back and forth against the tile floor, ignoring the discomfort it brought to him. He couldn't feel it anyways.

You think your fans really love you? Think that they care about what you post.

His wrists and thighs were littered with scars, a mix of fresh and old ones. White lines stretched across skin, mixing with dark red ones. Bandages were scattered haphazardly over the cuts, as if they weren't even trying to hide the cuts anymore. As if he didn't care

You think that you'll actually be successful? That this channel will go anywhere?

Jack tugged up the long sleeves that hung over his hands, the scars glaring at him, dizzying him. On the floor, glinting in the lights that the bathroom provided. Next to it, a few bottles of pills stood. One was tipped over, spilling pills across the floor.

You think that you can do something useful? You think that you're useful? You aren't. You don't belong here. No one loves you. No one cares , for you.

Mikey, Jack thought, a sudden moment of clarity. Mikey cares for me.
Then that thought was blown away, replaced with darker ones.

Mikey doesn't care for you either.

It wasn't the first time these thoughts had penetrated his mind, but it still hurts just as much, as though a fresh wound was being reopened.

He pretends to like you,

A bitter laugh escapes from Jack's throat as the words sunk deep into him, resonating a chord.

But he's not your friend. It's all pretend. You're all by yourself.

Tears ran down Jack's eyes as he desperately tries to convince himself that no, Mikeys's still my friend, but it was to no avail. All he could see was the razor on the floor, and the spilled bottle of pills. And his worthless life.
What had he achieved, anyways? Nothing, he thought spitefully. A hand shot out, shakily grabbing a razor. The already spilled bottle of pills was knocked away even further, sending the small pellets skittering further across the tiles.
He was very alone, wasn't he?
"I don't belong here," he whispered to himself. "I don't belong here." The razor trembled in his fingers, and he nearly dropped the blade. "I want it to end." His eyes shut, and he was rocking himself back and forth. "I want it to end. I don't belong here." Tears dripped off the edge of his nose, spilling over his bent head. His hair hung in his eyes, so that he could just see the tears landing on the floor. Sobs shook his chest, as he leveled the razor over his wrist. The blade pierced flesh, but Jack was trembling too much, and it slipped from his fingers, clattering on the floor.
At that moment, Jack could hear the door of their flat creaking open, and Mikey's voice calling out for him.
"Jacky? Are you in here?"
Jack pressed one hand to his mouth, a desperate attempt to stifle the sobs that heaved their way through him. With his other hand, with the wrist that dripped dots of blood on the white tiles, he grabbed a handful of spilled pills, bringing them closer to his mouth.

enditenditendit.

The words repeated themselves over and over in his mind, but his other hand wouldn't budge, he was frozen in fear. A few pills spilled over his shaking palm and clattered to the floor, each one sounding as loud as a gunshot.
"Jack?" Mikey's voice again rang out again, closer this time.

Enditenditenditenditendit.

Louder still, the noise grew, a deafening cacophony of noises in his head, telling Jack that his life is pointless, end it, end it-
But he is afraid.

Jack released a gasp, one loud enough the echo throughout the walls of the bathroom, loud enough to be head by Mikey, Jack can hear him running down the hall, shoes clapping against wooden floors. Sobs wracked his body, Jack snatched the razor blade up in his hand again, but he couldn't bring himself to press the blade to his wrist, he couldn't bring himself to swallow the pills.

Mikey stood in the door, but Jack can't stand to look up at his face, to see the mix of horror and revulsion that is sure to be on Mikey's face any instant. Jack only sobbed harder, the blade hovering an inch over his wrist, the pills in his hand gone and forgotten.
He felt a gentle hand around his shoulder, and then Jack was pulled roughly into a crushing hug by Mikey. Both of them sobbed into each other, and Mikey's shaking. His hands are wrapped firmly around Jack, pressing them both together. The blade has long since slipped from Jack's finger and clattered to the floor, and he wraps his arms around Mikey as well. Their tears dripped onto the other's shirts, and they held each other, silently cradling each other.
Mikey is swearing, louder and more than Jack has ever heard him. When they finally break apart, and move to be next to each other, Mikey is still cursing. Tears drip fast down his cheeks, creating small wet droplets on his jeans. When he spoke, his voice was hoarse with sobs, and he only said one word.

"Why?"
Just that word, that one word, was nearly enough to send Jack into another round of tears. He couldn't speak for a moment, he choked on the repressed sobs for a couple of moments longer. Mikey waited, staring sadly at the scattered pills and the razor with a small crust of dried blood on it. He looked at the scars on Jack's arms, his mind darkly imagining how many more lay on his thighs, how many secrets Jack had been keeping from him, how unobservant Mikey must have had been.

And suddenly Mikey felt like it's his fault, and he begins to sob again, but all that comes out is dry heaves, full of shock and disbelief that this is happening, his best friend just tried to kill himself and he found himself shakily drawing a hand around Jack's shoulders, and pulling him close again. His tears only flow harder as his gaze falls upon the fresh cut on Jack's wrist, a few drops of blood still leaking from it.
After a while Jack speaks, his voice just as hoarse as Mikey's. It's bitter, with an undertone that is dripped in sadness.
"I just wanted it to end. I'm so..." his hands flew up, fruitlessly searching for some word that he could not reach. "...tired of living. I didn't... I couldn't... I'm such a f-failure," his words trail off into nothingness.
Almost like it was out of habit, Mikey's hand has moved to Jack's hair, softly stroking the curling edges. "It's going to be okay. It's going to be okay baby. I'll protect you." he murmured words that neither of them believed, but it was a comforting thought for the moment.
************************************I hate myself for writing this AAAGH
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