This is a reupload of the original story. The original one was rated M due to language and smut, but since fanfiction does this really annoying thing where it filters out M rated stories, we decided to reupload the story without smut to drop the rating down to T.
We going to explain this as quickly as we can because it is almost 2 AM and we need sleep badly.
We listened and watched the music video to 1800 by Logic (you should all watch it honestly), and instantly fell in love. And then we watched it again and again. The gears in our brain got turning, our fingers got typing, and this one-shot happened.
So yeah, this story is pretty much based off the music video to 1800 by Logic ft. Alessia Cara and Khalid. It's very much Bethan and discusses homosexuality, depression, suicidal thoughts, etc so TRIGGER WARNING.
Please enjoy. I worked hard on this!
Disclaimer: I do not own MBAV or the song by Logic!
I've been on the low
I been taking my time
I feel like I'm out of my mind
It feel like my life ain't mine
The halls are empty.
Completely vacant.
Silence fills the space between the lockers, with only the sound of the ticking clocking filling the air.
The doors enclose students in their scheduled classrooms.
A flyer slides off a green bulletin board. It floats to the ground now littered with dust, candy wrappers, and sneaker marks.
The florescent lights buzz from the ceiling. One of them is burnt out and dead. It's been dead for weeks, but nobody has tried to replace it.
Nobody cares enough to replace it.
The burnt-out light used to illuminate the area outside the gym. Also quiet. Also vacant.
To the right of the gymnasium doors is the boys' locker room. The room inhabits 20-30 boys at a time during the school day. They bustle in, change into the appropriate gym attire, and once the period is over, shower and return to their normal classes.
The same florescent lights buzz from the ceiling. One of them is burnt out and dead. It hangs above a single showerhead near the window.
Not quiet. Not vacant.
The only noise that echo's throughout the room is the sound of said showerhead sprinkling warm water onto the tiled shower floor. The water flows down the drain in a swirling motion. It splashes messy brown, seeps through the fabric of a black overused hoodie, and soaks dark denim jeans causing them to feel heavier with the weight of the water.
He sits with his back against the shower wall, clinging onto the way the water makes the numb feeling inside of him not as prominent. The hollowness doesn't seem as deep when the water tires to awaken the soul and make you feel something.
Something. Something is all he wants to feel. Something other than the anger he feels towards himself. For being who he is. For being what he is. Something other than the pain waking up every morning gives him because the thought of going to school and facing a world where he is not wanted makes the emptiness inside of him squeeze at his lungs until he is forced to gasp for air. Something other than the numbness that fills his heart because he has completely lost the will to acknowledge his emotions.
Does he have emotions anymore? Or have they been stripped away along with everything else?
He longs to feel something. Anything. But he feels nothing. He feels like nothing.
The tears roll down his face. He does nothing to dry them and they mix with the tap water. They put a dildo in his gym locker. Stuck it to the inside of the door so when he opened it, it would stick right out like a damn flag waving for everyone. Did anyone see it happen? He's sure they did. But he couldn't hear anyone else because his pulse created a loud drum beat in his ears. He could feel everything boiling inside of him. He wasn't even aware of himself slamming the locker, or the salt water leaving his eyes.
How long has he been sitting in this spot, allowing the water to soak him completely? Feels like hours. Nobody has bothered to look for him.
Nobody cares enough to look for him.
He doesn't turn his head when his left arm reaches out to shut off the water. The sprinkling rain fall turns into a small stream before it cuts off completely. His chest moves with the heavy breaths he takes. He stands, his clothes and hair dripping as he walks out of the shower. The cold air kisses his skin, leaving goosebumps behind in their wake. He shivers but he doesn't stop. He doesn't look for a towel to dry himself off with. He keeps walking, leaving wet footprints and a trail of water behind him.
Now, the locker room is vacant. Quiet.
His last period teacher has already marked him absent for his class. They probably think he's playing hooky or just skipping for the fun of it. If only they knew. If only they fucking knew.
The hall seems longer than it usually is. Or maybe he's just walking slower than he usually does. Maybe life is just slow and torturous.
He keeps walking. Someone could come out of a room and spot him. A teacher, and student, the principal. But he wouldn't stop. He wouldn't even acknowledge their presence.
He remembers the first time he realized he wasn't like everyone else. It was third grade. Recess. He found himself becoming extremely jealous when another kid decided to play with his best friend. He sat on the steps that whole recess period as Ethan played tag and other games with someone that wasn't him. He moped for the rest of the day until Ethan finally confronted him about it.
"Why aren't you talking to me Benny?" Ethan asked as they walked to the bus stop.
He shrugged his shoulders and looked down as he mindlessly kicked a small stone. "Cuz, you have a new best friend now and you're gonna forget about me."
Ethan became confused. "What? What are you talking about?"
He kicked another stone. "I saw you playing with Leo during recess. And I saw you guys trading Pokémon cards during free time."
Ethan laughed because Benny is ridiculous (and little did he know Benny would continue to remain ridiculous). "Benny just because I play with other people doesn't mean you're not my best friend anymore." He didn't respond, only shoved his hands into his pocket. "You're always gonna be my best friend, even if we fight or play with someone else."
He pouted, still feeling the weight in his stomach he had been feeling ever since recess. He couldn't shake the feeling that he had lost his best friend to someone cooler with better Pokémon cards. And what Ethan was saying was definitely true, but he was eight. He was allowed to be dramatic.
Ethan reached into his pocket and pulled out a brand new pack of cards. "Plus he traded the brand new pack of limited edition cards for a stupid bag of cookies. What a dumby!" This got Benny to finally laugh. Ethan smiled back, and the eight year old embraced the other boy. "Sorry for making you feel bad." Ethan mumbles into his shoulder.
The sudden contact surprised Benny, but he hugged Ethan back. He held onto the warmth of the embrace for as long as he could before Ethan let go. He surprised himself by finding that he wanted to hug Ethan longer and that he didn't want to let go. He didn't voice it though. He knew it was weird, and was afraid of Ethans reaction.
He supposes he felt more drawn to boys even before that event, but only deemed it as nothing but friendly. But he began to notice the jealous feeling he would get when he saw boys wanting to play with Ethan, and girls having crushes on him. As he got older and heard other boys talk about having crushes on girls, he could never relate, and could never see any girl that way. He did however view some boys that way (especially one specific boy), but he never told anyone in fear of being judged or bullied.
He assumed he would eventually grow out of whatever he was feeling, and would start liking girls like everyone else did. But fifth grade became sixth, then seventh, then eighth grade. And once puberty began and the hormones started kicking in, those feelings intensified.
For days he would ponder with himself on whether he should tell anyone about his feelings, but seeing the way gay people were treated in the world forced him to keep everything enclosed in a tight bottle never to be opened. He did his best to suppress any feelings he might have for other boys, and forced himself to talk about girls. The charade was exhausting, but he survived the first year of high school that way.
He eventually realized that he was always jealous when Ethan got attention from other people because he liked the other boy. Well, less realized and more so accepted. He tried denying it for as long as he could. Oh, he tried. But something about those brown eyes and the way they crinkled when Ethan laughed at his jokes just caused everything inside of him to light up like a forest fire.
The hardest part was probably having to be around Ethan every day, and pretend like everything was normal. He had to put up a front every day around the smaller boy, doing his best to push aside his emotions so he could seem normal. Countless times he wanted to blurt out his feelings, get them out in the open and air them out like laundry on a clothesline. Countless times he wanted to close the distance between him and Ethan and feel their lips connect. He withheld it all.
And then he heard the word. "Faggot". Directed towards him for the first time. He can't explain the way a piece of him died when he heard the word. Like a bullet to the leg. Not enough to kill him, but enough to maybe paralyze or cripple him. Ethan was there when the jock muttered the word, almost too soft for the duo to hear. "Don't worry about it." He had said. "Just ignore it."
But it didn't stop there.
He heard the word again and again but this time without Ethan by his side. Each time he heard it was like a crippling pain going through his heart. Every time was another bullet, shooting holes through his body, making it vulnerable to them. They started laughing at him, and making vulgar hand gestures. They taped papers to his back that had various vulgar remarks written on it. He endured it. He tried. But each act of cruelty ate away at him slowly.
He began to hate himself. He hated the fact that he was the way he was, that he liked the gender he liked. He wondered why he had to be this way, why he had to go through this torture. He hated the fact that he was attracted to men. He wanted to rewire his brain so he could be normal like everyone else. He tried hard to change, to try and view women in a sexual way.
Nothing worked. Nothing changed.
Someone stuffed a men's magazine in his bookbag once. A note was left on it. Hope you enjoy faggot! He found it there when he had already gotten home. Anger gripped at him as he pulled it out of his bag, and he almost threw away the insult, but curiosity ultimate got the best of him and he found himself flipping through the pages. He didn't want to admit he liked what he saw and he hated himself for it, but alas he was a hormonal teen, and hormonal teens did what they did. He found himself flipping through it every other night, and would hide it in the space between his mattress and his wall. Nobody would find it there. Nobody knew he had it.
What was he supposed to do when he came home to find said magazine on the dining table, and his father seated behind it?
He couldn't bear to see the disappointment on his fathers' face. As if he failed as a son by being the one thing he's tried long and hard to repress.
He heard things like "this isn't natural" and "you can't be this way" and other related words. He could feel the disgust in his fathers voice with every word he uttered. They banged inside of his head like a million hammers. They hit him like a million bullets, crippling him more and more. He felt like screaming. He felt like running until his lungs gave out. So, he did.
His muscle memory is probably what lead him to Ethan's house. Looking for what? He didn't know. An escape maybe. Somewhere to clear his head. Somewhere to not feel the bullets penetrating his soul anymore.
Ethan answered the door. He had concern written on his face when he saw the despair he was in.
"Benny? You okay?" Ethan asked.
"Uhh, yeah I just needed to get out of the house." He ran a hand through his brunet hair anxiously. "Can I stay here awhile? Maybe spend the night?"
"Yeah sure of course!" Ethan held the door open for Benny to enter. He didn't question Benny's motives for staying there. Maybe he should have. Things might have been different if he did.
They spent the night talking, laughing, playing video games, and just hanging out and fooling around like they usually do. And for the first time in a while, he forgot about everything and just learned to live and be in the moment. He got to be himself for a while, not the faggot that everyone loved to torment. And it felt great.
Ethan's mom made lasagna for dinner. It was the best lasagna Benny had ever had. He ate with the Morgan family, laughed, and felt like he had found somewhere he belonged and where he could be himself. He felt part of the family. He felt at home
It eventually got late. It wasn't a school night, but both Ethan and Benny were equally exhausted. Ethan rolled out the sleeping bag Benny usually slept on while Benny sat on his bed scrolling through his phone aimlessly.
"So, what happened that you had to run all the way here?" Ethan started the conversation nonchalantly as he placed blankets and pillows on the bag. It was the most innocent of questions, and Ethan didn't realize how much baggage was behind it.
Benny froze at the question but quickly recovers so as to seem like nothing is bothering him. "How do you know I was running?"
"You were visibly panting when I opened my door." Ethan pointed out.
Benny nodded, suddenly reminded of the turmoil that was his life. The turmoil that he had successfully forgotten about all night. His whole demeanor changed and he put his phone down as he laid back onto the bed. "I don't really want to talk about it E."
"Did you break something and you're afraid your Grandma's gonna kill you?"
Benny couldn't help but laugh at the question. "No Ethan I didn't break anything this time." He sighed as he sat up, adjusting his position on the bed. "I kinda just got into an argument with my dad and I didn't feel like having to deal with any of it."
Ethan nodded. He sat next to Benny causing the weight of the bed to shift. "Understandable." He wouldn't push Benny if he didn't want to share more than that. Ethan knew it would get him nowhere.
They sat in a comfortable quiet for a while on their phone (because would they be millennials if they didn't do that?). Benny was sitting close enough to Ethan to get a whiff of his scent. It was mild, like minty vanilla mixed with ice. It was nice. Comforting. It was how Ethan always smelled. It caused Benny's skin to tingle, and his stomach to knot up. So much he wanted to say to Ethan. So much he wanted to do, but it was all too risky to bring up.
Benny decided maybe he could just hint at the idea without being blatantly honest. Besides, if anyone's gonna be understanding, it would be Ethan. He pondered over his next few words for a while before finally breaking the silence. "Hey E?" He was answered with a simple hmm. "You know how some of the jocks at school say stuff about me? They call me faggot and stuff?"
Ethan nodded and briefly looked up from his phone. "Yeah and I always tell you to ignore it."
Benny bit his lip nervously. He was starting to chicken out, but it was too late to turn back. "What would you do if what they said was true?"
This got Ethan's attention as his head snapped up with furrowed brows. He placed his phone down and shifted closer to Benny. The proximity caused his heart to jump, but he kept a calm poker face. "What are you saying Benny?"
"Just answer the question E." Benny pleaded. He wasn't ready to answer any other questions yet. He could hardly bare to hear Ethan's answer, and mentally flinched before the other teen had a chance to speak.
Ethan twisted his mouth as he thought about it. The action made Benny want to lean in and claim those lips as his but he was frozen in his spot. "I would just accept you for who you are and stand by your side no matter what."
Benny looked down at his hands in his lap, both ashamed and embarrassed. "You wouldn't judge me or anything, right?"
"God, of course not Benny!" Ethan shifted significantly closer to Benny and placed a hand on his shoulder. He had an earnest expression on his face as he spoke. "I would never judge you for being gay or for being anything else. Who you want to love is completely up to you, and I'm okay with whatever makes you happy."
Benny looked at Ethan's hand on his shoulder, his heart pounding against his ribcage. The touch caused his skin to electrify, sparks running to his fingertips. It tingled everywhere in him, starting from the place where his heart is traveling all the way through his gut into his groin. It felt like a lightning bolt struck him and he was glowing with charge from the strike. It was sensational.
Maybe it was the words Ethan said and how sincere they were. Maybe it was the way Ethan's brown orbs stared into Benny's green ones, forcing him to get lost in them. Maybe it was the proximity, the closeness. Maybe it was the contact and the lightning. Maybe it was the heat that had been building up since he was eight years old. Benny felt like every part of his brain that controlled his motor skills was in overdrive. He felt completely out of control of his actions as he cupped Ethan's face in one hand and closed the distance between the two.
Ethan was shocked at first. The impact of Benny's lips onto his caused him to let out a small squeak, definitely not expecting this response. By the time Benny realized what he was doing, fear, disbelief, and embarrassment washed over him like a bad hurricane. He was about to pull away, getting ready to apologize (and probably leave forever and never come back), but he felt himself unable to move when Ethan grabbed the back of his head and deepened the kiss.
Benny's eyebrows raised in surprise but quickly made his lips move in sync with Ethan's. The lightning intensified. The electric feeling soared within Benny's heart, giving him everything he's ever dreamed off in a kiss.
Ethan's lips were just as Benny suspected: soft and cool. They tasted of Blistex and tooth paste, and something else that was sweet as sugar. The blended taste sent shivers down his spine all the way to his toes, and then back up again. He danced his tongue along Ethan's bottom lip, causing the smaller teen to gasp allowing Benny entry. Their tongues battled for dominance. Benny won and claimed Ethan's mouth as his own, taking his time to explore every inch, every piece of him. Ethan sucked and toyed with Benny's tongue in return, loving the intrusion more than anything he has ever experienced.
Benny's hand found Ethan's waist as he gently pushed him back on his bed. His mind was working on autopilot as he shifted his body so he was laying on top of Ethan's body, never ending the dance their lips did together. A small voice in the back of his head told him to stop, told him that he would regret this. The voice told him that he shouldn't be acting on impulse, and that he should sit and talk things through with Ethan.
"E-E-E-Ethan wait." Benny pulled away quiet reluctantly because in that moment, the voice brought Benny back to his senses. The reality of the situation washed over him like a huge tidal wave and he blinked as he looked at Ethan, trying to figure out what was going on. What the hell was happening? He thought to himself. How in god's name did this happen?! He was making out with Ethan. His best friend! And he was pretty sure they were going to do much more than that.
What am I doing?! He thought to himself. How could he let himself get so out of control to the point where he ended up in this position with his best friend/crush?! He didn't even know if Ethan reciprocated the feels, or if he was just doing this out of pity, or what in the actual fuck was going on! And he sure as hell knew this would end up negatively effecting their friendship, making things awkward and weird and all around bad.
Ethan looked into Benny's green orbs, the heat in his eyes mixing with confusion more vibrant than a forest fire. "What's wrong Benny?" Benny could hear the anxiousness and slight lust layered thick in Ethan's voice. It sounded so freaking hot and made Benny melt into what felt like lava. More than anything he wanted to keep going, but he needed to make sure of things be for taking this any further than it needed to go.
"Are, are you sure you want to do this?" Benny asked, his voice cracking due to nerves and the heat he felt all over.
Ethan didn't have to think twice about his answer. He gave Benny the most reassuring smile he could muster. "Yes Benny. I'm absolutely." He confirmed with every ounce of confidence. And in one swift motion, he reclaimed Benny's lips to which Benny did not protest.
The voice was still there. Telling Benny to stop, and take things slow. But all of that sounded like light breeze to Benny. All he could hear was the faint thud of his heart beat and the soft sounds Ethan made as he went further and further into the abyss…
…Benny collapsed in a heap next to Ethan feeling exhausted and sweaty and stick but also alive and fulfilled and on a high. They stayed lying next to each other naked and panting heavily. Benny waited for his heart rate to slow down before turning onto his back and facing the ceiling like Ethan.
"So, I'm guessing your previous question wasn't hypothetical." Ethan stated, feeling the drowsy after effects of what they just did inching onto him.
"My what?" Benny asked, being too lost in his high to concentrate on what Ethan had asked.
"When you asked me about being gay." Ethan yawned. "It wasn't hypothetical, right?"
Benny had almost forgotten about the conversation that led up to this and laughed. "Uhh, no, it really wasn't."
Ethan chuckled as he looked at Benny. "Good."
His house is in front of him.
He can't remember leaving the school, or walking in the streets, or anything for that matter. It was a complete blur. Every memory, every moment that led up to this ran through his mind on the walk here. He replayed everything, projected it in his mind like a movie, remembering exactly why he is doing what he's going to do.
He'll never forget the look on Mr. Morgan's face when he opened the door the next morning to find his son cuddling his best friend shirtless, their clothes scattered on the floor in a haphazard mess. He'll never forget the shame he felt as he grabbed his clothes and shoes and left the room as fast as he could, or how he thanked God he thought to put his underwear back on before they fell asleep.
He's suddenly inside his house, the door behind him sort of closed. He'll never forget the way the guys in the locker room laughed as he entered the room. He'll never forget the way the dildo sprang out as he opened his locker, glued to the metal to mock him, and his existence. He'll never forget the self-hate he knew was justified based on the obscene prank.
He's in the hall closet. He reaches to the top shelf and pulls down the metal box that he knows he's not supposed to play with but suddenly doesn't care. He punches in the combination and the lid pops open. He pulls out the pistol laying inside, already loaded "for emergencies only" his dad used to say.
He'll never forget the way his father looked at him when he came home that day, the magazine out like a fucking trophy.
He's in his room. The tears flowing from his eyes like an overflooded damn. His hands trembled as he checks the chamber, ensuring that it is loaded. He closes it. It's full.
He wants it over. The pain. The hatred. The loneliness. He wants it gone. He wants out of it all. He wants to stop feeling everything he's feeling and just make it go away forever. Forever. He angrily takes off his still wet hoodie and throws it on his carpeted floor. Thrown just like how he's felt thrown around and damaged for so long. It's all been crashing done like a collapsing building. A building with way too many bullet holes to remain structural.
His life has been crashing down. It has spiraled out of control.
And he just wants to die.
He holds the gun in his hands, seeing it through blurry vision. He turns it in his hands over and over, the cold metal promising a release from everything. A release from this life he feels like isn't his. This life that doesn't belong to him. He doesn't want it anymore. He doesn't want to be the walking faggot anymore. He doesn't want to be the mascot of humiliation and abuse anymore. He's done with it.
He grips at his hair and falls to one knee, the tears coming down harder. He can still hear them. All of them. Gaylord. Faggot. Dick sucker. Every single word like multiple knives thrown at him and piercing his skin. They mock him as if he doesn't already know. As if he's not aware of the abomination he is. As if he doesn't wake up every day wishing for a change, for something to change.
He clings to his bedsheets as he cries into them. This is the only change. This is the only way. This agony won't stop unless he pulls the trigger and ends it. He needs to end it. He needs the final bullet to shatter him away.
He gets up. He looks over to his desk. On it are various papers, books, and trinkets. But the magazine that sits on top of everything is what causes him to shove everything off his desk. Books land on the floor with a thud. Papers fly everywhere. A whole mess. He sinks to the floor. He taps the gun against hi temple, the sobs coming uncontrollably.
They won't care whether he comes to school tomorrow or not. They won't care if he dies, if his body is placed in a casket and lowered into the ground forever. They've never cared. They'll never care. All they do is remind him of what he is and why he should want to die.
He wants to die.
He clicks the bullet into place and places the barrel against his temple. It will be better once he's gone. His father won't have to wake up every day knowing his son is gay and he won't have to be ashamed. Ethan won't have to realize the mistake he made by sleeping with someone like him, someone as unworthy as him. He won't have to burden the world anymore with his presence. He won't have to feel alone anymore. The pain will be gone. The hollowness will disappear. It will be like he never walked the Earth before.
His finger is on the trigger. He's ready to do it. He's ready to go. They'll find him dead on the floor, and they'll all move on with their lives. He'll never have to face the darkness of another day. It will all be over. All of it will be over.
He doesn't know why. He doesn't know what makes him do it, but he sees a small piece of paper in his peripheral. It glints at him, reflecting the bright sun through the window. He glances at it. It must have been knocked off the desk with everything else. He wants desperately to ignore it and the way it kind of calls to him, but he feels so compelled to look at it, so compelled to grasp onto even a little bit of reality. With his free hand, he reaches out and takes it.
The paper is small, maybe the size of an index card. It doesn't have any intricate designs or anything. It just a simple card with a phone number on it.
1-800-273-8255
He knows what it is. He knows what that number is. He remembers getting the card in health class a few months ago when they did a course on suicide awareness, depression, etc. He didn't give the paper much attention and simply tossed it in his bag. But now, with the barrel of a gun pointed at himself, one muscle twitch away from ending it all, he can hear it calling to him. He hears it pleading with him.
He breathes heavily. The gun remains pointed at his head. He wonders what they would say to him if he called. Would they help him? How would they help him? What would they tell him? Is it even possible to help him at this point?
He doesn't want to second guess himself. He knows what he wants, what needs to be done. But the longer he looks at the number, the more he feels the need to reach out for help.
His phone is in his hand before he knows it. The gun stays pressed to his temple as he dials the number with quacking fingers. He puts it on speaker and stands up, suddenly feeling restless. Suddenly needing to move around. Finally, his call is answered.
"Hello this is the Suicide Prevention Lifeline. Is there someone in a crisis or state of emergency?"
"Uhh…" He sniffs. He doesn't know what he's supposed to say. He didn't think this far ahead. "I'm in a-a crisis right now and I would like some help."
"Okay I will be happy to assist you in any way." The lady replies. She sounds nice, and gentle, like she's used to talking to people like him. "Do you think you can tell me your name?"
"It's B-Benny." He begins pacing his room, feeling like he's going to have an anxiety attack at any moment.
"Alright Benny, and how old are you?"
"Sixteen." His voice cracks.
"Okay Benny. Now I want you to remember that it is safe to talk to me because I am here to help in any way I can, and if at any point you feel uncomfortable talking with me I can transfer you over to another representative. Is that all right?"
He sniffs. His finger trembles against the trigger. "Yes." He mumbles.
"Okay Benny, is there anything you wanted to talk about?"
"I, umm,…" He bites his lip and squeezes his eyes shut. This is a dumb idea. He should've just went along with what he wanted to do instead of trying to seek help. He can't be helped. There's nothing left to do.
"Let me ask you another question. Do you feel like you might harm yourself in any way?"
His sob comes out like a pant because this question is much easier to answer. "Y-yes." He wants to leave it at that, but the burning of the barrel against his temple screams at him to say more. "I have a gun to my head." He let's out in one breath.
"And did you plan on committing suicide today?"
He whimpers. "Yeah." He starts sobbing into the receiver. Saying it out loud makes everything feel so real, and it terrifies him. Thinking about it all, voicing it aloud scares the crap out of him.
"Okay Benny before I saw anything else, I want you to know that whatever you may be going through, you are not alone. I care about you and your wellbeing, and I don't want you to harm yourself. Do you understand?"
He's shocked that a complete stranger who he's never met before says she cares for him. Someone he doesn't know cares for his wellbeing. It makes his heart jump, but he concludes that it's nothing to get overly excited about. "Yes." He replies.
"Can you do something for me Benny?" He whispers an answer. "I want you to stay on the phone with me, and talk to me about how you're feeling. But you need to promise me that you will not pull the trigger at least until we're done talking. Can you do that for me Benny?"
Her voice does something to calm him down a bit, and make him feel something he hasn't felt in a long time: cared for. It's soothing and motherlike. It's convincing enough. He takes his finger off the trigger. "Okay."
"Great job Benny. You're already doing so well." It makes him smile to hear someone praising him. "So, what's on your mind Benny? Why have you been feeling the way you're feeling?"
"It's just… hard," he starts, "having to wake up every day hating myself and feeling alone and afraid." He sobs again. "I just want it all to stop. I want it to end and be over." He can't believe what he's doing. This is a complete stranger he's speaking to, yet he's being more open to her than she's been to anyone else. He's disclosing everything he's been feeling since he can remember as if it's easy as saying 'pie'.
"Oh, okay I completely understand. It's okay to feel the way you're feeling and I'm happy that you're letting it out and talking about it. Now, why do you say you hate yourself?"
"I…" He doesn't know if he can say it. It's been the one thing he's loathed the most about himself, and he's not sure if he has enough courage to voice it. Because once he says it, it's real. And he doesn't want it to be real.
"Remember that I am here to listen to anything that may be bothering you or triggering you at this time."
He nods even though she can't see him. He's already gotten this far, so he might as well tell her why his life is a complete and utter mess. "Umm, I'm," his voice cracks and he clears his throat, "I'm gay." And he breaks. He breaks because he's never referred to himself as gay aloud, and hearing his voice say that officially makes it a reality. He's gay. He can't hide it. He can't stop it. He can't change it. He's gay. And it hurts like hell.
He sits on his bed as he cries hard. "I'm gay. And I've tried to ignore it and suppress it and change it, but I can't." He inhales violently between his sobs. "And I hate it. I hate who I am and the way I am. Everyone hates me for it. I get bullied every day because of it. Even my own father hates it!" He places his phone on the bed and covers his face with his hand. "I don't want to live like this anymore! I just want it to end! I just want to die." He's said it all. Everything he's been feeling summed up and in the open. It's out and he can't take it back.
"I'm very sorry to hear this Benny." He stands up and faces the mirror on his closet door. "Everything you're feeling must be overwhelming, correct?"
He stares at himself in the mirror, the gun still trained to his temple. Oh, how easy it would be to pull the trigger, and take himself away for good. How easy it would be to be breathing one second, and gone the next. How does death feel, he wonders'. "Yeah." He replies.
"But something I want you to know is that a lot of other young boys go through the same thing you're going through. They struggle with accepting their sexuality, and sometimes their denial leads to situations like this…"
She continues to talk, but Benny stops listening. His reflection stares back at him with red, broken eyes. They scream out for help, for something solid to hold on to. They reach out for any sign of hope out there. They scan Benny's entire body, up and down, and back again. He's nothing. He feelings like nothing. There's nothing for him anymore. And he might as well accept it. He puts his finger back on the trigger.
"…Benny are you still there?"
He's pulled out of his trance. "Huh? Yeah I'm here still."
"Where do you have the gun right now Benny?"
He stares at the gun in the reflection with shaky hands. "S-still on my head."
"Do you think you can do me a favor and put the gun down now Benny?" Her voice comes out so calm and collected. You would never think she is talking to a kid on the verge of committing suicide.
He squeezes his eyes. All the pain. He feels it all. All the pain that has culminated over the years. Everything bundled up into one gigantic ball that constantly pummels at him. All of it like bullets continuously shattering pieces of him away, taking away parts of himself. This bullet can finish the job. It can make it all go away. Just this one bullet…
"Benny?"
He feels unable to breathe properly. His chest has tightened up. "I-I-I don't know if I can…" He doesn't know if he wants to. His finger trembles on the trigger. It's ready to pull it, ready to blow.
"Benny listen to me. This pain you're feeling will not last forever. I know there are a lot of storms going on within you, but there will always be brighter days, and those days will always be beautiful."
Beautiful? What about his life is beautiful?
"And even though it feels like nobody cares, there are more people out there who care about you than you think. I know that I care about you."
"H-how?" His voice trembles. "How do you care when you don't even know me?" Beautiful days she says? The only thing beautiful about his days is Ethan, with his brown eyes that bore into his soul. They're the most beautiful eye's he's ever seen. So beautiful…
"I don't have to know you to care. I care about your well-being, and I would hate to see a brilliant person like you go before you were ever able to discover how great you are."
She thinks he's brilliant? Ethan's smile is brilliant. It's bright, and light. Seeing Ethan's smile is like turning on a lightbulb in a dark room. It chases away the dark and illuminates everything it reaches.
"So please Benny, put down the gun and it will be all right."
Everything meshes in his head. The pain hurtling at him, reminding him of every reason why he should pull the trigger and end the madness. But the beautiful eyes and brilliant smile leading him to something different. Something happier, lighter, better. But then the numbness consumes him, and pushes him closer to the edge, closer to freedom, closer to a life without the pain. It wants him to pull the trigger. It wants him to release the bullet from the barrel. He squeezes his eyes shut, and braces for the pain—
Ethan knew something was off when Benny wasn't at his locker when the final bell rang. He knew something was wrong when Rory told him Benny wasn't in their last class, and that he hadn't seen Benny since he went to PE. He knew something was wrong when a student passing by said she saw him walking down the halls soaking wet, and leaving the school.
But nothing could have prepared him for what he saw when he got to Benny's house.
They hadn't spoken since that night. That night when it was made clear to Ethan that Benny had some sort of feelings for him whether it be love or pure lust. They hadn't seen each other since his dad barged into his room to find them together in bed, only for Benny to do the walk of shame.
That was Friday night. It has been three days.
Ethan had meant to talk to Benny, but he couldn't find the right words to say. He's never had to approach someone after sleeping with them, and the thought slightly scares him since he was a virgin prior to that night. What does he say to not make things awkward? It felt better to wait until later before approaching Benny, because maybe by then he would find the right words to say.
Ethan can't describe how fast he ran out of the school to Benny's house when the girl disclosed her information. He called him countless times, but the line was always busy, so he left a worried voicemail before hanging up and calling again.
He was surprised when Benny's door was left slightly ajar. When he walked inside the house, the first thing he was aware of was voices floating down from upstairs. Sounded like a woman's voice and Benny's. He started forward and almost tripped over the metal container left open on the floor. He glanced down at it and jumped back.
The gun!
Everything clicked at once and Ethan barged up the stairs like an animal hunting prey.
Which brings us to now.
He feels terrified, seeing Benny pointing the gun at his temple like that with his finger on the trigger. His phone is in his hand, seeming to be on speaker. Tears rush down his face as he squeezes his eyes shut and he trembles hard. He looks read to pull the trigger, and Ethan starts moving, prepared to stop him.
But what happens next halts him.
Benny let's out a sob as he slowly lowers the gun from his head. Ethan's eyes bug out of his head as Benny drops both his phone and the gun, and collapses to the floor in a heap. His sobs are strong and heavy, and wreck his whole body. They're the loudest cries Ethan has ever heard from anyone before, let alone Benny who very rarely cries around people.
Ethan breaks out of his trance and rushes over to Benny's side. He immediately engulfs the larger boy whose body shakes violently. Benny grabs a hold of Ethan and cries into his shirt, staining the spots instantly. Ethan kicks the gun as far away as he can, and keeps his hold on Benny, rubbing his back as he cries everything out of him.
The mere sight brings tears to Ethan's eyes. He's aware of the bullying Benny gets and what people at school say. He tells him to ignore it, and it's seemed like he's been okay with it. Never would Ethan imagine that Benny was this hurt, this broken, that he would want to take his own life. He never thought that maybe, it's all been having psychological effects on Benny. He never thought his best friend would want to leave him and die.
Ethan had sex with Benny, right after Benny confessed his sexuality to him. He didn't call or text him. He's ignored Benny all day. What could Benny have possibly thought?
Ethan's tears spill out of his eyes as he whispers to Benny that he's here now and that he's sorry and that everything is okay. He'll be okay. He can finally make out the sound of a voice coming from Benny's phone. Ethan quickly grabs it and takes it off speaker.
"Hello?" He says into the receiver.
"Hello? Benny? Are you alright?"
Ethan glances at the number on the screen, recognizing it as the Suicide Prevention Line. He sighs in relief as he speaks. "Hi this is Benny's friend Ethan. He's okay. He's dropped the gun. He's with me now."
The lady on the other end thanks him before ending the call. Ethan tosses the phone. He sees something move in his peripheral, and glances to the door to see Benny's father, standing there looking astonished. He glances between Benny and the gun on the floor, a horrific expression on his face. He finally looks at Ethan, with tears in his own eyes. An understanding passes between the two of them in that moment.
They will never let this happen to Benny again.
The lady at the Suicide Prevention Line had contacted the police without Benny knowing. The paramedics quickly came in the house right after Benny's dad, surrounding him instantly. Benny didn't want to go with them, too afraid to leave Ethan's side. The paramedics finally coaxed Benny into coming with them, as long as he was allowed to cling to Ethan like a lifeline. By that time, his sobs had turned to hiccups as Ethan helped him down the stairs. He felt a comfort in being able to lean on Ethan, especially since he still felt like falling apart.
The ride to the hospital was short and loud. The noise overwhelmed Benny, and caused his chest to tighten more, but Ethan being at his side made it easier for him to cope until they made it to the hospital.
A few nurses and doctors examined him once he got there to make sure he wasn't harmed or anything. They changed him out of his still damp clothes and gave him a hospital gown that was surprisingly more comfortable than any other he's seen or worn. They hooked him up to an IV and a heart monitor, and Benny eventually fell asleep due to exhaustion and the drugs they gave him to calm him down.
Ethan held Benny's hand as he slept, refusing to leave his side. He watched as the doctor explained to Mr. Weir that Benny needed to undergo therapy and treatment for a while, until they were certain he would not harm himself again. Benny was discharged the next day.
Ethan stayed with him for a full week. He's parents were against it (after finding them in such a compromising position), but he wouldn't budge. Benny needed him, and he wasn't going to leave his side until he was okay. He packed a bag with a weeks' worth of clothes and toiletries, and completely moved into Benny's room. Mr. Weir had a blow-up mattress set up for Ethan right next to Benny's bed, but Ethan rarely slept on it since he was awoken every night by Benny screaming and crying because of a nightmare. The only way Benny slept through the night was if Ethan was by his side, and Ethan didn't mind one bit.
Neither did Benny's father.
Benny's first therapy session frightened him at first. The idea of talking to a stranger about everything that's been bothering him and being evaluated on it just wasn't ideal to Benny, but everyone told him it would help. And he really had no other choice but to give it a try.
Oddly enough, it did help. He felt a little lighter after going to the first session. And each session helped him to deal with his demons, and get through the hard parts of life and accepting himself. It gradually became easier to wake up every morning and get through the day. He slowly started talking and laughing more, and started becoming a better, happier version of himself.
When he got home from the first session, he and his father had a long heart to heart. The two ended the conversations in tears and a warm embrace, a new understanding and new bond between them.
Benny and Ethan eventually talked about what their relationship was. Ethan admitted that he was harboring feelings for Benny for years, but never admitted it because he didn't believe Benny felt the same. Benny's heart soared at the words, only imagining Ethan would ever say something like that to him. Ethan admitted he was wrong for not talking to Benny after that night, and that he was honestly scared of how Benny felt afterwards.
They talked about it. They kissed. They became an inseparable pair.
Benny went back to school a week after he nearly killed himself. He was honestly terrified of entering the building that caused him so much pain again, but one peck on the lips and squeeze of a hand from his boyfriend made it somewhat less horrifying.
By the time Benny returned, the dildo was removed from his locker. Everyone involved wrote an apology to Benny, and was afterwards expelled. The students seemed kinder to Benny, some of them looking at Benny with guilt in their eyes for being the cause of Benny's downward spiral. It was something else, being able to walk into school and not feel like everyone was mocking him.
Benny eventually officially came out to all his friends and family. He thought long and hard to make sure he was positive about how he felt, and that he wanted to live his life happily. The positive responses he got from everyone was overwhelming, and brought tears to his eyes. This time though, they were happy tears, because for his whole life, he hated who he was and would never accept that part of himself. But here was everyone he loved, completely accepting him for who he is and praising him for being courageous. It was one of the greatest feelings he's ever had.
Slowly but surely, things changed. Life got better. It became easier for Benny to wake up every day. The brighter days outnumbered the stormy ones, and they were always beautiful in Benny's eyes.
Maybe a year or so had passed when Ethan asked him what had changed in his mind when he finally put the gun down. It somehow popped into the conversation, and Ethan nearly regretted it when it was out, but Benny didn't even flinch. The topic which once was a trigger to him, didn't bother him like it used to. He didn't even look up from his Math homework when he asked, "Why do you ask?"
Ethan shrugged and nervously replied, "Er, it's just been something I've always wondered."
Benny put his pencil down and looked up at Ethan with the sincerest of expressions. "At the time, I was finding every reason to pull the trigger, and every reason seemed overpowering and convincing." He paused to grab Ethan's hand. "But there was one reason telling me not to. To put the gun down. And that reason was enough." He smiled at Ethan as he squeezed his hand.
Tears brimmed in Ethan's eyes as he leaned forward and captured Benny's lips in his. The homework was then forgotten as the kiss lead to other, more entertaining activities.
And it was true. Benny had every reason to pull the trigger that day. He thought every reason valid enough to take his life because he didn't want it anymore. He was kissing deaths door, but the small thought of Ethan's presence in his life, and the way his beautiful eyes and brilliant smile shone in the midst of the chaos was enough to make Benny put the gun down. Because he wanted beautiful days, and he wanted something more than what he had. And it was that one reason that forced the gun away from his head.
Benny sometimes wonders what could have happened had he succeeded in pulling the trigger, had he not found the piece of paper on the floor containing the number that changed his life. He wonders what would've become of him if he died that day, and what would've become of the people he loves the most. The whole thing seems so distant from him now, so far away like something that tried desperately to bring him down and tear him apart, and almost succeeded. But something that he found a way to overcome, surpass, and outlive. He is forever grateful that whatever caused him to dial that number did, and that he put the gun down when he could, because it would be a sin to not witness his life now.
Looking back, it all seems like one huge chapter in Benny's life, and he's long flipped the pages and started something new and better. There are days when he still feels the chaos, and like he just wants to scream until it's over, but then he remembers the brighter days and exactly what makes them beautiful, and then he's okay again.
Because no matter what he will always be okay again.
He'll never forget the struggles that brought him up to this day. He'll never forget everything he felt that day. They are forever a part of him, something that he'll never be able to shake off. But they have shaped him into something better than he can ever imagine. And it's made him stronger.
More importantly, it's given him the courage to do what he's doing today, what he's spent months planning perfectly. He straightens his bowtie in the full-length mirror in front of him as a knock on his door signals that it's time. With a deep breath, he gives himself a once over, and finally leaves his dressing room, and makes his way to the alter where his beautiful days await him.
~The stronger the storms and the darker you feel, the brighter and lighter the days to come will be. And those days will always be beautiful.~
We need ice for our brain good LORD!
Yeah so this is 19 pages (20 if you count the authors note).
If you or someone you know is considering suicide, please call the number 1800 273-8255. Reach out for help. Talk to someone. PM us if you have to. But please, don't take your life before you have a chance to witness the beautiful days to come. We love and care about you so much!
Thanks for reading. Reviews are cool.
-Bye Felicia