Idea based off the movie It's Kind of a Funny Story because I have no originality har har har
I'm putting a trigger warning for suicide talk and cutting.
Also the first paragraph (in italics) is Shane's point of view. The rest of the story is 3rd person as always. And yep it's a chapter fic but it won't be that long.
Sometimes being gay sucks. Sometimes being in love sucks. Sometimes being alive sucks. And sometimes, when you combine all of the afore mentioned, it can make you want to die. Not that death was scary right now. It was almost welcome. And it was always a bridge.
New York was full of them, and it just so happened that one of the biggest was on the way to my school. The best of the finest performing arts schools, the whole reason we moved to this state in first place. Blaine coped well of course, but then again when didn't he? He was headstrong and independent, smart and talented, one of the best performers I've ever seen. He's everything I'm not. And when he worked up the courage to finally come out (because he was brave, another one of his attributes) it didn't end well. But he didn't care, he stuck to who he was and didn't waver, even when our dad beat the blood out of him. He's strong, another thing I'm not.
Before he came out it was no secret that he was the favorite. But even now I suspected he still sort of is. He's Mr. Perfect after all, and then there's me. Just there. Existing for no apparent reason. And standing there on that bridge I mentioned earlier.
I passed it every day. And every day without fail I would let my fantasies drift to how it would feel climbing to the very top, that place where all the bars and wires were. It would be dangerous but considering the fact I'm a pretty good dancer (even though it really didn't bring me joy anymore anyways) I thought I could manage. Besides would it really matter if I fell in the process of climbing up? Wasn't that what I would be doing regardless?
I was right. I made it up to one of the top bars in no time. But now standing here in the dark, listening to all the cars pass beneath me, all the people who were unaware there was a crazy person ready to plunge his body into their oncoming traffic, my mind was racing.
How many times had I dreamed, literally, about doing this exact thing, and now here I was thinking about all the things that lead to that dreaming.
I wish there was an easy answer as to why I'm so messed up. Sure, being gay meant being bullied by bigoted idiots, but I wasn't going to fool myself into thinking I had it even remotely as bad as some of the lgbt youths who take their own lives. No matter how unsupportive, I still had a family, and a wonderful brother who didn't really see himself the way I did. I had friends, however few, and I had at least one talent. And bullying was limited to the occasional trips, shoves, locked in a closet (uncreatively ironic by the way), all that dumb shit. So I wasn't going to pretend I had it too terribly, there were people who had it far worse, but else can you do when all you can think about is ending it all.
Hell, even most my friends had it worse than I did. Like Micah, whose strict, backwardly religious parents would flip their shit if they found out he was gay. But he was smart and he knew how to hide it. Smart, more like brilliant. And gorgeous. I guess you could say I'd been pining after him ever since Erin ran away with her girlfriend. He handled the situation with such poise and composure it was hard not to look at him in a different way. But apparently I wasn't the only one who thought like that. But I was the only one too scared to do anything about it.
Jude wasn't. Now they were together and sickeningly happy. But of course I didn't hate Jude, he was one of my best friends, how could I? I guess I was just bitter because he got what I wanted. It wouldn't be the first time someone did something I should have because they were braver than I was (see: Blaine coming out.) So I really had no one else to blame, no one else to hate when Micah was being lovesick with Jude, unknowingly crushing my heart at the same time, but myself.
And then there was that new kid Kurt. He worked his ass off to get here and you could tell he knew he deserved it. And he did. He was talented and so stubborn and unique. Blaine fell for him instantly, and he fell right back. So now Blaine had Kurt, and Micah had Jude. And once again, there was just me, there, alone, wasting oxygen.
I forced the thoughts and memories to leave my head. They weren't helping, if anything they only made me more confident in what I was going to do. All it took was one little leap, the last one I would take in my short life.
Just as my foot was hovering over the edge, ready to fall forward, a loud voice brought me back. I stared, completely struck, at Blaine standing off to the side on one of the smaller bars. It took me a second to realize I was hallucinating, there was no way Blaine was here, on the top of this bridge at five on a Monday morning.
"Shane!" the fake Blaine said in a stern voice. "What the hell are you doing? Don't you know how this will affect me? Why are you being so selfish!"
His words had me frozen. Blaine would be devastated. I knew it wasn't his fault I felt like shit when compared to him.
"Yeah."
Another voice made my head snap back up. I had only looked away for a split second but that was long enough for my mom and dad to join Blaine on the bar.
"Think about how much money we spent just getting you here in this state, in this school. And now you're going to throw that all away? You always were an ungrateful little twit. Not to mention how much money it took to raise you, to keep you alive. And now you want to be dead. Typical."
That was my dad of course. Who else would it be? My mom spoke up next.
"Funerals are quite expensive, honey."
"It's not like he cares," my dad snapped. "He only cares about himself."
"What about me!" Blaine cried.
They all starting arguing, shouting insults and making me feel a thousand times worse. I couldn't listen to it anymore.
Instead of throwing my body off the beam like I had intended, I found myself rushing down to the side they were standing on bickering. It wasn't surprising when I walked through them as if they were ghosts. Climbing down was a lot easier than climbing up, and as soon as my feet touched the ground I was running. I didn't know where exactly, just away from the voices that were getting fainter.
How surprising, I thought as I ran as fast as my legs would carry me. I can't even kill myself right.
It had to have been half an hour when Shane finally stopped running. It wasn't fatigue or a change of heart that stopped him. It was a hospital. A large, gleaming and fancy hospital. He'd only seen it a couple times, it wasn't often he came to this side of New York, but he could remember what it looked like. Way too fancy to have crazy people like him.
But he let his feet take him inside, in spite of the twisting in his stomach. It wasn't that he intended on ending up here, but now that he was, it seemed like that was where he supposed to go.
The first receptionist he saw had her dark hair tied up in a bun, doing her nails and looking bored. Not much to do in this wing at six in the morning, Shane figured.
She looked at him blankly, probably wondering why he was panting and looked like a mess.
He took a second to catch his breath, forcing the words out his throat. "I tried to kill myself."
She only looked slightly startled, handing him a clipboard with a pen attached and telling him to fill out the paper on top.
He took it numbly. That was it? How anticlimactic.
The questions where mundane and boring, as was everything else that passed. It wasn't until he was sitting in one of the doctor's offices, being checked for his vitals and blood pressure did the reality of the situation really hit him. Now he would have to answer questions.
Of course he would. The doctor looked at him over her glasses after scribbling something down. Any second now.
"So," she finally started, ending his anticipation. "How long have you been suicidal?"
He had to think about that. Probably for about the same amount of time as he'd been feeling depressed, which was the beginning of the school year. It was now January.
The sound of her pen scratching on the paper brought him out of his thoughts. He hadn't realized he said that out loud.
"And did anything happen today that made you want to act on it?"
He had to think about that, too. There wasn't anything that stood out against the regular bullshit he had to go through.
"Not really." Maybe he just got tired of it all.
She moved right along to the next question without any hesitance. "Are you currently on any medications?"
Of course not. Even if he told his parents he was depressed they would sweep it under the rug like it was nothing. Because as long as they don't talk about the problems, they won't exist.
"No."
"Have you told anyone you're feeling depressed?"
That was as easy as the last one. "No."
She looked at him now, expression disapproving. "Why not?"
He only shrugged. Explaining it would only remind him of why he felt like that, an endless cycle.
"Well with all due respect you probably should," she commented, writing something else down.
"With all due respect," he whispered, "You don't know my family."
Something that looked similar to a smile lifted her lips, but she said nothing, writing again. He waited in uncomfortable silence until she finally spoke again.
"Well Shane, it seems to me like you're not an immediate danger to yourself or others. Just by coming here shows you're not ready to die yet. So why don't we call your parents and tell them how you've been feeling. We can refer you to one of our outpatient therapies as well."
Shane felt confused. He wasn't a danger to himself?
"No," he cut her off before she could continue. "No. It was a miracle that I made it here in the first place. And if I'm not a danger to myself then why was I standing on a bridge at five in the morning, one second away from jumping off?"
"Shane," the doctor said in a soft voice. "The people who stay here are very sick."
"And I'm not? I don't think you get it. I was ready to jump into traffic just so I could finally die."
"And why didn't you?"
That made Shane stop. Why didn't he?
"I guess I would feel guilty for having to put my brother –my family through that." The doctor smiled at him, a real smile this time. He knew he would have to continue. "But if I have to go back to them right now, I know I'll end up back on that bridge. And this time not even they could get me to come down." She was frowning now and Shane knew he was almost there. He would have to spell it out. "I want. To die."
She pursed her lips, looking thoughtful for only a second before she scribbled one last thing on the clipboard.
In the next instances he was being escorted to the appropriate wing. It was in its own floor, and as soon as he got there he presumed it was only for teenagers or youth. Being that it was still kind of early in the morning, there was hardly anyone about but the people that were up were around his age.
In another office, this time he was being addressed to by an elderly looking man, Dr. Shaw who he was told would be his psychiatrist while he was here. Great.
"We've contacted your parents to inform them of your whereabouts," was the first thing he heard this man say. And it made him inwardly cringe. He knew it was inevitable but now they knew. He didn't want to know what they were thinking about him, or how much they blamed him. "They'll be here to bring you some clothes and other necessities shortly."
As if that didn't make him feel uneasy as it was, he also caught something in that sentence. Clothes. "How long will I be staying here?"
He tried not to let the answer of no less than seven days bother him. After all, he did this to himself. But he couldn't stop thinking about all the ways this missing week would affect his life, his stupid, screwed up life.
"What about –"
"School?" the doctor guessed, continuing when Shane nodded. "Well this is the teen ward, and the ones who stay here for long periods of time go to the tutoring room. But if you're only here for a week, it shouldn't be too hard for you to do the work your school sends over on with no problem, should it?"
So his school was sending the work he'd miss? It wasn't like it'd be a lot being a performing arts school, and it wouldn't be hard, but that wasn't what concerned him. His school knew he was here. First his parents, now his school. Even if it was only the officials, just how long would it take before his friends and the students found out, too?
Realizing he was supposed to be answering a question, he shook his head quickly, not knowing what else to say. He could definitely do his work on his own, he wasn't that stupid, just because he wasn't as smart as Blaine or Micah. Micah. Micah.
Stop thinking about Micah!
"Okay. Now there'll be a schedule to follow after the schooling is done, group activities and therapies and such." He was handed a paper that he barely glanced at. Great now he had to tell a bunch of people his problems. What were his problems again? He liked a guy who didn't like him back? Big deal. Man he was weak.
"Also I'll need your shoelaces, belt, keys, jewelry, pocketknives or anything else sharp."
Shane didn't bother to ask or protest. He handed over his shoelaces and belt silently, only kind of curious as to why this was needed.
"Now if you'll follow me, I'll introduce you to your roommate."
So he'd have a roommate? He wasn't sure if this was a good thing or a bad thing, but he was leaning towards the latter. As if things wouldn't be uncomfortable enough.
When he saw the person leaning against the wall, appearing to be waiting for him, he felt a little relieved. At least this person wasn't a huge, intimidating jock like type who could squash him like a bug. This person was kind of small actually, but not short, just about the same height as him only way skinnier. His black hair stuck up in every direction, and around the base of his hair line was a bandana he'd tied into a headband.
"Shane this is Noah," he heard the doctor's voice from beside him. This Noah smiled a smile that was boarding a smirk, and Shane decided he could automatically tell what kind of person he was. "Noah this is Shane."
Noah extended his hand, even though it looked like he was doing it because he should, and Shane took it politely. Noah stared at him, not breaking eye contact and making Shane feel supremely awkward. He looked around, noticing more people were around now.
"So why don't you show Shane around until his parents get here to bring him his things."
Noah nodded, grabbing Shane's hand and pulling him forward, taking him by surprise. He didn't speak until they were in a large room filled with chairs, couches, game tables, what looked like a stereo, and other entertainment sorts. It was the most populated room Shane had seen so far.
"This is the recreation room." Shane noticed Noah had a weightless voice, like he didn't take anything too seriously. He also noticed he had yet to release his hand. "This is where people hang out when they want a break or are bored." He finally looked back at Shane with that same strange smile but Shane found it impossible to smile back.
Instead he quietly observed the kinds of people that were in this room. Some sat alone, not speaking and looking down with a complete disinterest in the life around them; some were together and talked so normally it made Shane wonder why they were here; but there were some he didn't have to question.
He felt a tug on his arm and had no choice but to follow when Noah started dragging him off somewhere else.
Next he was shown the bathrooms, showers, and telephones. He knew he really wouldn't be needing that last one. Who would he call anyways, beside Blaine. But then again he really didn't want Blaine worrying over him.
Just as Noah was about to pull him into the direction of what he called the TV room, Shane heard the screaming. He thought he must be hallucinating again but it sounded like his name.
"Shane!"
No that was definitely his name. He turned around, surprised until he saw the very person he was just thinking about running down the hall towards him. He grimaced. He could tell by Blaine's frantic expression that he knew everything, not that he doubted that anyways.
"Shane!" he called again when he got closer and Noah stepped back just in time for Blaine to reach them, crashing his body against Shane's and holding onto him tightly.
Shane's arms felt limp, but he didn't want to be rude so he hugged back loosely.
"Oh my god," Blaine was whispering in his ear and Shane felt even guiltier. "Why would you, what happened, why did you –" A groan cut him off and he held on tighter. It felt like he didn't want to let go.
"Sorry Blaine." Shane murmured, not sure what else to say.
"Why would you want to die, Shane, why?" he heard Blaine sniff and could tell he was crying.
"I…"
"Why didn't you tell me you felt like this? Why didn't you let me help you?"
Shane couldn't respond. It felt like the guilt was eating him alive. To make it worse, the last thing he heard Blaine whisper before he saw his mom running towards him was, "I love you."
"Shane!" In the next second he was his mom's arms, feeling a little more awkward than when it was Blaine. "Are you alright?"
She looked into his eyes and it made Shane feel like running away.
"Yeah, I'm fine." How many times had he said that and not meant it?
She was hugging him again, asking, "Why didn't you tell us?" Just like with Blaine, he didn't answer. "I'm so proud of you." That surprised him. She leaned back again, brushing some of the hair out of his face. "For coming here instead of… you know." She wiped at her eyes and Shane felt awful for making them both cry. But then he realized something.
"Where… where's dad?"
Blaine rolled his eyes, and Shane could tell he was trying hard to hide what he was feeling. "I'll give you three guesses."
Shane sighed, not at all surprised. He didn't know why he would have expected something different.
"I'm sorry he couldn't be here, Shane. But he said he would try to visit within the next couple of days," his mom said as if it made a difference. "But I brought you some things. Clothes and sundries and all that." She handed over the duffle bag over her shoulder. Shane took it, feeling uncomfortable in her intense gaze. "I love you, honey." And with that her arms were wrapped around him again. "So, so much. Promise me you'll try to get better and won't do something like that again."
Shane stalled. He really didn't want to make a promise he couldn't keep. "I promise."
She pulled back to look in his eyes again. "I have to go to work, but we'll be back to visit soon I swear. And Shane? Please don't feel the need to hide something like this from us, okay?" He timidly nodded. "I love you no matter what."
She gave one last hug and a kiss on the cheek before it was Blaine who standing in front of him. Only a second had passed before Blaine was hugging him again. "I'll call you after school. Be strong."
Easier said than done. But Shane hugged back saying, "Thanks. I will."
Blaine let go and smiled sadly before following their mom back to the elevators. Shane stared after them for such a long time, still somewhat startled by everything, he didn't notice Noah staring him down from where he was leaning against the wall, having seen the whole exchange.
"Well that was cute." Shane jumped, turning to him in surprise. "Your family seems like they really care about you. You're lucky."
Shane chose not to comment, but he didn't have to because Noah was speaking again.
"Why don't I show you our room so you can put your stuff in there, then we'll continue the grand tour."
Shane wasn't given a chance to answer before Noah grabbed his hand again and was pulling him along. He thought this guy was kind of weird but at least he was friendly enough.
They reached a white door, plain and no different than any of the rest. When he entered he found the room was the same. Off white walls, sheer white curtains, dressers, and two beds. Aside from the assumingly fake flowers and lamps and other fixtures that was all. Even the blankets on the bed were gray. The room was lacking a color, but at least it looked like Noah tried to change that. His bed had its own splash of color on the headboard where rested no less than fifteen different color bandanas. Shane figured he wore a new one each day.
"We don't really get to bring in many homey like touches. So it's kind of boring I know."
It's not like Shane really minded. He would hopefully only be here for a week to be evaluated and then he'd get to go home, not that he was that thrilled about that either.
"So, any questions?" Noah's voice pulled him out of his thoughts.
"Um," Usually Shane was a bursting bubble of excitement. It was astonishing how much half a year could change him. He usually had to take time just to shut his mouth, but now he couldn't find the words. "Why won't you let go of my hand?"
Noah just blinked at him. "Why, does it bother you?"
"Um." Once again, words failed him.
"Let's go." Noah pulled him again and Shane barely had time to throw his bag towards his bed before he was rushed out the room.
"Where are we going now?"
"To the tutoring and activities rooms. I doubt you really need the first though right? How old are you anyways?"
"Oh, um, sixteen."
Noah turned back to look at him, smiling. "Me too. Most of us are around that age. Although there are the select younger ones. The oldest is nineteen though, if they're not exactly suited to stay in the adult wing. But everybody here is about as equally messed up. Schizophrenics, PTSD, EDs, Multiple Personality Disorder, autism, anxiety, behavioral problems, depression, suicide survivors like you."
Shane stopped moving prompting Noah to turn back and face him.
"How did you know that?"
Noah snorted, brushing a piece of his wild hair. "Oh please, you have it written all over you."
Shane tried not to glare, his nose crinkled up and he ended up looking confused. "So what are you in here for them?"
Noah didn't stop smiling. "Oh I didn't take my medication so I kind of went crazy. I don't remember it but apparently I tried to rob this convenient store and ended up almost killing this guy." Shane stared at him in disbelief. He did what? And he had to share a room with this guy? Noah leaned closer, grinning as though he liked Shane's reaction. "But do you want to know the worst part?" And now there was more? Noah leaned in, still smirking as he whispered into Shane's ear. "I'm a pathological liar."
He stepped back to watch Shane's dumbstruck face, enjoying every second of it.
Shane stood there, trying to piece everything together. "Does that mean –"
Noah didn't give him a chance to finish. "Let's go."
He followed unwillingly, still trying to process all of this.
The next room they made it to was the cafeteria, but that didn't need to be explained. The only thing Noah told him about this was that you needed to eat three out of the four things provided, unless of course you were an eating disorder patient, but they ate in an entirely different room. That made sense, but with that just happened Shane decided to take everything Noah said with a grain of salt.
The room after that was the music room, which again needed no explanation, and Noah gave none.
"There are all kinds of different therapy rooms. Ones for group, ones for individuals from different doctors. Where you go depends on what's wrong with you, but I'm assuming you've already met your psychiatrist."
Shane didn't bother to nod. Noah didn't actually ask a question since he knew the answer. And he was still in front leading. He didn't let go of his hand until they reached the last activity room and what Shane guessed was the last stop of the tour.
"This is the art room. Just a fair warning, whenever we have to be here for art therapy, you have to draw something, anything, or Ms. Miller will not let it go." Well that was good to hear. Shane wasn't exactly the most talented of artists. "I know what you're thinking, you can't draw. Well don't worry. Just make a bunch of crisscrossing lines and they'll find some way to interpret it."
Shane was busy thinking about what Noah just said and if he should believe it when Noah opened the door to show him what the room looked like.
It was typical art room, tones of easels and canvases, endless paper and paint and other writing utensils, tables and different types of working stations. Right now there were only four people in the room that was decorated with various artworks. But Shane didn't notice any of that. His eyes were fixed on the only boy who was painting in such a deep concentration he didn't hear the door open. He was completely focused on his art but what he was painting Shane didn't know. He was too busy watching him not what he was doing.
Shane could feel the air leave his lungs, and he couldn't seem to remember how to get it back. This boy was literally breathtaking. And even though his slightly red curls were all swept to the side to keep them out of his face while he worked and there were spots of paint over his skin and clothes he still looked
"So beautiful," he unintentionally whispered.
He was brought back to earth with Noah laughed. "What's beautiful?"
Shane wasn't looking at him but he could hear the smirk in his voice. He had yet to take his eyes off this angel. "Him." He said simply, not bothering to point. Anyone with eyes should have been able to figure out who he was talking about.
"Who, the one painting?"
Shane nodded, keeping his eyes locked on the boy who still had yet to notice them in the doorway.
"That's Reed." Reed. A cute name for a cute person. "He's in here most the time, or at least when he doesn't have to do anything else. He really likes to paint. He's good at it, too. But he's really bashful and shy, so watch who you call beautiful."
Shane finally tore his eyes away, looking over at Noah instead. "Why should I believe you?"
Noah shrugged. "I don't care if you do or not. Why don't you go up to him with that same dopey expression you had when you first saw him and say what you said. See what happens."
Shane glanced back to the boy. He could easily see this small boy being shy, and it's not like he was planning on actually doing that.
"I'm guessing you won't believe anything else I say about him, which is fine, I'm not saying you should. So I'll leave it up to you to find out, which I'm sure you're capable of, seeing how it seems like you've been hit by the love arrow."
He turned and started skipping, literally, away. Shane stared at Reed for a second longer, not wanting to look away. It was hard to believe he was real, he looked so perfect.
"Are you coming?"
He snapped out of it to see Noah was already more than half way down the hall, looking at him and smirking. He didn't want to, but he couldn't stand here and watch this boy all day, he was already being creepy as it was, even if Reed had yet to notice him. He hadn't looked away from that painting once.
Shane reluctantly turned around, heading back to where Noah was standing with that damn smirk. He wasn't as bothered by it as he should be though. His mind was still filled with images and thoughts and questions all pertaining to Reed. Why was someone like him in a place like this? If he wanted answers he knew he'd have to find out for himself, but that was fine. He wanted to talk to him. Maybe he had just found something to keep him sane during his stay here, a reason to get excited. Reed.
"Have you joined me back on planet Earth yet?" Noah asked once he reached him.
Shane ignored him. "When will I get to meet him?"
Noah rolled his eyes, completely amused. "Apparently not. Well you missed breakfast, so unless you want to stalk him, probably lunch."
Shane wasn't going to lie, he kind of wanted to stalk him. But no. He wasn't that creepy. "When is lunch then?"
"Not for a couple hours." Shane frowned, that wasn't exactly a terrific answer. "But now I have to turn you over to your therapist."
That didn't help. "Already?"
"Yeah, well they have to see how you're coping so far, don't they?" Noah looked over Shane's shoulder to see Dr. Shaw coming towards them. "Have fun," he said in singsong before walking back to their room. Shane still wasn't too sure about that guy yet.
He sighed. He was sure he wouldn't be experiencing any type of fun while some shrink tried to dissect everything he said and thought. He just hoped it would over with quickly. The thought of meeting Reed had butterflies dancing in his stomach.