misfits + friends oneshots

five stages of grief (Krii7y)

Denial.

"Smitty wouldn't..." John trailed off. "I'm sorry, you must have the wrong guy." John hung the phone up, a loud sob left his mouth the second he did. He dropped to his knees, bawling his eyes out. Ugly crying. Clutching at fistfuls of hair in a sad attempt to ground himself.

"The Smitty I know would never kill himself. It's not him." John muttered to himself. His back was against the hall, he tilted his head on his knees to stare at the door. Any moment now and he would be home and tell John he was being stupid. "Right?"

Anger.

"No, piss off, Craig." John muttered. His eyes were downcast, surrounded by redness from rubbing them so much. The black circles that ran dark under his eyes was almost scary, he nearly looked dead.

"You need to go see him. Confirm it's him. And say goodbye." Craig sat on his couch. Tears pricked at his eyes and his voice cracked a bit on his last sentence.

"Someone else can go do it." John muttered. His mouth tastes bitter. He turned on his heel, ready to go retreat back to his cold bed. Craig stood, grabbing his arm to stop him from leaving.

John was barely thinking when he shoved his friend off him. Craig stumbled back.

"Fuck off." He stated clearly. Tears running down his cheeks again. His lip quivered.

And fuck you, Smitty, if you're up there, for leaving me all alone.

Bargaining

John thudded his head against the wall for the hundredth time. His thoughts were racing as he sat in his room. Their room.

Why didn't I notice?

I'm a shit boyfriend if I couldn't even help.

Why didn't he tell me?

He wallowed in the pit of his own sadness and regret. If only he paid more attention. He wishes he took the suicide jokes more seriously and didn't pass them off as stupid, offensive jokes.

Depression

John laid in bed. Again. He had the whole bed to himself, and in the past, on the rare times that he had found himself alone in bed, he would've stretched out. But now, he stayed glued to his side of the bed. Smitty's seemed too perfect to touch.

For the first time in weeks, he found himself able to think about everything else going on. The after affects of Smitty.

He hadn't uploaded in a month. He hadn't touched twitter, Instagram, anything. He didn't know if the fans knew, he didn't know anything. He knew Smitty's passwords, and Smitty had known all of his. He should make an update video for his channel. Everyone else deserves to know where he was. Or rather, where he wasn't.

Acceptance.

"Hi, guys." John took a deep breath, looking into the camera. "I'm sorry, that me and Smitty haven't uploaded in over two months. I'm sorry you've all been left in the dark. Unfortunately," John paused, swallowing a thick lump in his throat. "Fuck. Smitty isn't here anymore. He's not with me and he never will be. Smitty is with the angels now, where he belongs." A faint smile fell on John's face. "He always was too perfect for this world." A tear fell down. Just one.

"I miss him. And I'm sure you guys will too. There's no one here to hold, to calm me down. To help me edit." He paused, and a small laugh left his lips. "No one to shout 'you have bear fists?' with me." He blinked, looking up at the ceiling. "You don't realise how much you take for granted until its gone. We took him for granted, he was an angel. He didn't-." John cut himself off as he felt the tears begin to roll again.

"Jaren was too perfect for this world. Every good thing has to end. To all his fans, my fans, our fans, thank you for everything. I could've never asked for a better life than what I've lived. To all my friends, I love you guys. I want you guys to stay strong too, and keep making people laugh. I... I wish everything ended differently. There's so much more I want to say but can't find the words." He swiped one hand under his eye, then rested it back in his knee. "Goodbye, and thank you for everything. I'm off to see my angel now."

John wiped his face. It was wet with tears. He clicked the camera off. He couldn't watch it back. He couldn't sit and edit it. So he uploaded it. It loaded up on twitter and he saved it as a draft. He grabbed his jacket, sliding on his shoes. He waited for a moment at the door, letting the silence hang. One last look at his house. Their house.

The walk wasn't long. It was a nice evening, however the rain put people off leaving their houses. John reached the bridge. The last place Smitty was alive. He pulled his phone out, tweeting the video. And then he dropped his phone to the floor, and climbed over the metal barrier. Water was flowing calmly under him. He closed his eyes, smiling. He couldn't wait to see Smitty again.