Roadrat Oneshots

I'm So Sorry

A/N: It's been a while, hasn't it? So like "The Voices" this is a heavy chapter. However, it's not as 'bad' or gruesome as the last one. I finished school in early June and, tbh, didn't do as well on my finals as I thought I would so yeah. If I'm sad, Junkrat's sad. Anyways, onto the story. (Btw it's like 2:30am sooooo)

"Fuckin' failure." Junkrat murmured into the bed sheets, his nails digging into the stump of his right arm. "Worthless."

He doesn't know how long he's been there, just lying on the bed. His thin body shook like a leaf in the breeze, quiet cries of pain and guilt spilling out of his mouth. He felt like he was going to throw up but his body wouldn't allow it. He didn't have anything to throw up. Junkrat curled himself into a small ball on the bed, his nails still digging into the sensitive flesh of his stump.

"God I'm bloody useless..." Junkrat whimpered. His throat felt raw which was no doubt from all the crying.

Junkrat hadn't been adjusting to joining Overwatch as well as he and Roadhog had hoped. Roadhog was already a quiet person, so he was fine with not talking to the other members. Eventually, after the first month, he became friends with some of the other tanks on the team. Or, at least, good acquaintances.

But Junkrat? Well... he was never really given a chance to really bond with the other members. He met some of the younger members of the team like Lucio, Mei, D.va and Tracer. They were pleasant while meeting him at first, but after that they just kind of ignored him and even avoided him. Sure, he was a world wide criminal stealing and killing everything in his path, but he really was trying his best to become good. Not that he really had a choice.

It was Overwatch or prison.

He wasn't too sure what to do to get them to like him, or at the very least talk to him but he couldn't even get them to do that.

Junkrat felt sick. So, so sick. His chest was aching, stomach was winding, his throat was sore, he honestly thought he might die. Little did he know that his crying had attracted someone.

Tracer, along with Lucio and D.va, had been passing by some of the rooms on their way to the kitchen. While walking, their constant chattering had started to falter as they came closer to Roadhog and Junkrat's shared room. Tracer was the first one to realize that someone was in there crying.

"Hey, how 'bout you guys go on ahead to the kitchen and I'll meet ya' two when I get there?" Tracer suggested. The other two agreed and continued talking and walking over to the kitchen. Tracer on the other hand gave a few knocks on the door, noting that it was cracked slightly. After getting no response she peeked her head while the rest of her body followed.

The sight that greeted her was one she didn't expect to see.

From what she could tell, Junkrat was tangled in the sheets, quiet whimpers and cries of pain pouring out of him. Tracer reluctantly started to make her way over to Junkrat's side of the bed.

"Junk-Jamison? You alright, luv?" Tracer asked, reaching a hand out to grab him. Junkrat's eyes widened immediately, his head shot up off the pillow and startling Tracer in the process. Tracer took as step back as she finally got a good look at him.

His eyes were bloodshot, his bleach blond hair was knotted and ruffled around. He was also missing his prosthetics, which she noticed were at the foot of the bed. The two held painful eye contact for a few seconds before Junkrat looked away,

"Fuck..." He whispered, "FUCK!" He shouted after finally finding is voice. He chucked a pillow in Tracer's direction, which she dodged with a small shrek. Junkrat completely broke down after that, his rail thin body collapsing onto the bed with a small thud. His body was being wracked by much louder sobs, which were muffled by the pillow beneath him.