WARNING!

Mature themes such as suicide mention/attempt, and description of hanging/drowning/asphyxiation are present in this oneshot. Please proceed with caution; reader discretion is advised.

The numbers didn't line up in his mind, and it scared him; Neil's brain raced constantly, trying to figure out why he had been feeling the way he felt for the past three weeks. No, it wasn't love. That was obvious and cliché as fuck, and Neil knew that well. It was something else.

Misery.

Neil had tried everything he could to comprehend why. Why did he feel upset? It was devastating. It was earth-shatteringly agonizing to even think about. But the numbers didn't line up, and he felt stupid. His feeling of stupidity only amplified his misery, and his misery amplified his feeling of stupidity. It was a painful, endless cycle, and it made him want to cry. He wanted to break down sobbing, and he wanted to scream and cry and lose his mind until he passed out from exhaustion. But kicking up a ruckus would draw attention to him, and that's far from what he wanted. Max was still asleep, and he'd only make everything worse with his cynicism and his pessimistic outlook on life. Neil would break and shrink until he was nothing.

The last thing he needed was Max tearing him apart.

Neil sighed shakily, his eyes reading over everything he had written down on the chalkboard he had.

I don't want to participate.

I don't want to talk.

I don't want to feel.

I don't want to eat.

I don't want to drink.

I don't want to go out.

I don't want to feel as scared as I do.

I'm always feeling scared.

I feel miserable.

I want to throw up constantly.

I want to cry.

The only thing he could see was depression, but that was incredibly unlikely. Wasn't it?

"Damn it..." Neil mumbled to himself. He could feel the lump in his throat forming, and there was a sob clawing its way out. He covered his mouth, stifling the sobs that forced their way out of him whether he wanted them to or not. It was uncontrollable at this point; Neil dropped to his knees, dizzy and weak with the powerful emotions that swamped over him. Sobs wracked his young body, and he trembled as everything poured out of him. He tried to contain it, he tried desperately to stay quiet; but try as he might he couldn't stay quiet. It was like the walls were closing in on him, and he was going to be crushed by his own emotions.

Every breath was shaky, and every movement hurt. Neil wanted the pain to stop. Even if it meant dying–yes, that's it.

He wanted to die. He wanted to take a rope and wrap it around his neck and tie it to a branch and jump off a cliff and listen to his own neck snap before fading into nothing. He wanted to be submerged in the lake and forced to drown by the peers he knew didn't care about him. He wanted Gaylord Nurfington to beat the ever-loving shit out of him until his skull caved in and his ribs pierced his lungs and heart. He wanted Max to cover him in gasoline like he did the bonfire would and fucking light him up so that he'd blow up into a firework of flesh.

He wanted to fucking die. And he was going to.

The chalk was in his hand, and it was soon quickly clicking and dragging its drawings on the chalkboard again. Hangman's knot wouldn't be too hard to draw, or to actually tie, right?

x

The rope was snug around his neck, and felt like it truly belonged there. The other campers were all asleep at that time of night; after a full day of bathing in his own filthy misery, the time had come. It would all be okay in the end. He'd be gone, Max wouldn't be weighted down by a nerd, Nikki wouldn't have to defend his pussy ass, David and Gwen would have one less kid to worry about, and his parents... well, they wouldn't care, right? They could always adopt another kid, or something like that. Regardless, they didn't need him. The knot was tied, and the rope was secured to the tree branch.

Neil was ready.

With a final gulp of fresh air, the boy forced himself off of the branch, and the rope quickly constricted his neck. There was a problem.

There was no snap.

His neck didn't break; instead his arteries were compressed, and his brain's oxygen supply was cut off completely. His lungs and head burned within an eternity of seconds, like someone had thrown them into a fryer to sizzle. It was hell, and it was because he fucked it up. He could hear himself gasping for air, desperate for relief. But there was no way he was going to get that. There was no one around to save him; the other campers were all asleep at that time of the night. He was left to suffer.

Time was slowing down in his painful asphyxiation, but despair was beginning to settle in; the boy felt like it had been hours since he first started kicking for freedom. The kicking only worsened the situation, and tightened the rope further. The lack of oxygen was beginning to get to him, and soon blotches of nothingness began to pop into view; the blotches started to meld together, and then they all became one.

There was nothing, save for the short-lived scream of a young boy.

x

"It doesn't hurt so much if you do it right. Mess up even a little bit, and you'll be in for a world of suffering..."

—Unknown

x

The nothingness was gone, and two weak eyes were soon faced with the blinding light of... the sun? Coming in through a window? Was he in a house in heaven?

... there was no way.

He wouldn't gotten into heaven after taking his own life; some religious kid in his neighbourhood told him so a while ago. Purgatory wasn't this beautiful, apparently, so he wouldn't be there either. Osama bin Laden wasn't anywhere to be seen, so there was no way in hell he was in, well, hell.

Did that mean he survived?

"Neil, what the fuck were you thinking!?" The voice exclaiming was watery and muffled; like the sounds of someone crying being blocked out by a pillow pressed against his ears.

Neil inhaled shakily–wait, inhaled? He could breathe? He found his chest quickly and fully expanding and lowering itself, gulping every last ounce of oxygen his lungs could possibly consume. His slowly adjusting eyes soon registered the bright aqua eyes of the last person he expected to see at his bedside; Max, the cynic how would have made everything so much worse.

"M... Max...?" he choked out.

"Answer me, Neil!" Max yelled in response, "what the fuck!? What made you think that was even remotely a fucking good idea!?" The smaller boy's face was twisted, but Neil's recovering brain couldn't figure out what he was feeling. Was it anger? Sadness? Fear? It was probably anger. After all, he failed, didn't he? Of course Max would be pissed off that Neil was still alive. Who wouldn't be?

"Neil, I swear to God, if you don't answer me right now I'll shatter every goddamn piece of technology in this fucking camp and you'll never see another calculator until you go home!"

Silence ensued, save for Neil's body grabbing at any air it could and Max's breathing showcasing every single ounce of frustration he felt. Neil could only stare up at his friend, who he could see was literally shaking. What the hell was Max feeling, anyway? All of his emotions, which were always extremely negative, seemed the same; anger, anger, and frustration mixed in for little variety.

"Neil–"

"Max, let him rest." A second voice was now in the room, and Neil assumed it was David; it sounded like him, at least, and Neil's neck hurt far too much to move and look. "He's had a rough go, just let him sleep until he's able move–"

"Shut up, David, he needs to fucking talk about why he was stupid enough to try to kill himself!"

"Max, he can't even talk yet. He needs to be able to talk in order to tell you why he did it."

Max didn't respond right away. Neil watched the ten year-old's mouth as it quivered and stuttered, trying to respond. But there was nothing to say, and the boy let out a groan of frustration. "Fine," he grumbled, "but I'm not leaving. I'm staying here with him. He needs someone with him, David."

"I didn't say you had to leave, I just said you had to be patient."

"Yeah, yeah, David..." Max grumbled, and returned his gaze to Neil. The scientific child let out a shaky sigh, averting his eyes from Max. It was clear to him now that Max was pissed at him for trying, rather than for failing. But why? Max didn't need a dead weight, nerd ass like him, did he? Why was Max pissed at him for trying?

"I'm going to go get Nikki," David said, "she's going to want to come see him and find out why you and Neil aren't around." A door shut, and David was gone. It was pretty scary, hearing David sounding like a mature adult rather than a happy-go-lucky child in a man's body.

"I... guess I do need to be a bit more patient..." Max let out a quiet sigh, "but... I really don't want to..." The two boys locked eyes, and Neil couldn't help but think he saw a hint of sadness in those jaded eyes of Max's. But the imaginary hint of sadness as quickly covered again with the harsh reality of a shell. Neil simply shook it off and locked his eyes to the ceiling. It wouldn't be long before Nikki was in the room, kicking up a stink about how worried she was. He'd have to listen to her crying and snotting the place up.

If only they realized he could see through all of their fake worry.

x

Max's gentle snores and Nikki's slightly louder were the only think breaking the silence; Neil's eyes were still locked to the ceiling, as they had been for the past... two hours? Or was it five? He'd lost track of time once the numbness settled in again. That didn't take long, though; after David had left there was nothing to be said. There was only silence to be exchanged between the disappointed Neil, the snivelling Nikki and the angered Max; by this point Neil was starting to figure out how he would attempt the second time. He could try hanging a second time, but if it botched a second time he would have to suffer the Wayne did again; it was flat out terrifying the first time, and as a result a second choke-fest was highly unfavourable. Drowning would probably give him similar feelings to the hanging. Would he suffer while burning alive? People only really burned for a long time if they had excessive body fat; Neil was extremely skinny. Yeah, he was normally skinny. But the amount of vomiting he'd done behind closed doors lessened his body weight even more. He would burn quickly, and hopefully painfully as well. But how would he get access to the gasoline? Well, Max did always have a rather peculiar way of getting these things... perhaps burning alive would be the easiest way to go? Either that or having Nurf cave his skull in; the other boy was extremely provocative. It'd be painful, but simple, unless of course Nurf hit him hard enough to knock him out or to kill him immediately. It could work, but maybe burning would work better.

A smile formed on Neil's quivering lips, and a hoarse giggle escaped his unfortunately healing throat. The next time Max had gasoline, Neil would steal it. He'd bathe in it, and light himself up. It would be beautiful. Neil found himself giggling quietly to himself, even though every jerk and twitch hurt his body. But it was genius. He would fucking burn to death, and it would be fucking beautiful. Neil sat up, his body quivering with excitement at the mere idea of burning alive. Words couldn't begin to describe how amazing it would feel. The heat rising up and slowly cooking his flesh to a beautiful, charcoal black. The pain only lasting for a few moments as his nerves burnt to a crisp and could no longer send signals of pain up to his stupid, simple mind. It was perfect.

The door swung open, and Neil's laughter and thoughts were cut off with extreme abruption. Four eyes—two violet and two green—stared Neil down in what appeared to be... horror? Was that the right word? Regardless, Gwen and David must have heard him laughing to himself, otherwise they wouldn't have come; Neil didn't even notice right away that he had woken Max up with his laughter, until the boy at his bedside squeaked out a horrified, "what the fuck?"

The room was silent, and Neil's eyes travelled from face to face; Gwen and Max's faces still showcased pure horror, while David's seemed to retake a bit of a calmer demeanour. He stepped into the room, his eyes staying locked on Neil. "Max, Nikki, Gwen, I'm gonna have to ask you guys to leave for a minute."

"David–"

"Gwen, just take Max and Nikki and leave."

"David, the fu–"

"Just listen to me this one time, okay, Max?" David approached the other boy, and quickly ushered him and Nikki to the door. "You guys can wait outside the room if you want, just... leave."

"Daviiiiiiiiiid–"

"Nikki, just shush and get out." David stopped once the other kids were out of the room, and closed the door on them and Gwen. He then turned to Neil, who was housing the slightest bit of a smile.

Neil spoke, though his voice was extremely hoarse. "What the hell do you want, David...?"

David sighed, and made his way over to the bedside. He sat down in the seat Max was in, and gave Neil an extremely stern look. The young boy was afraid; David was never serious like this. But the look on the counsellor's face told him this was no joke; was he angry, too, just like Max? Was he pissed off that Neil wasn't fucking dead like he needed to be? Most likely.

"Neil, I'm extremely disappointed in you..."

There it was.

"... for not coming to talk to one of us instead of pulling what you did."

What!?

Neil stared at David, his jaw hanging open. What the fuck? Why wasn't David berating him for failing? He would have had one less kid to deal with! His job would've been so much easier! Why!?

"Neil, you're lucky I knew what to do..." David reached out and took Neil's smaller hand in his own. "Those are so easy to mess up, you're so lucky you're not permanently crippled or anything. Jesus, Neil, what were you thinking!?"

Neil let out a shaky, nervous sigh; he had no excuse. He didn't even think there was a chance of him surviving. Yet he didn't, and David knew how to save h–wait, what? Was that even a part of his training? Why would David of all people know what do do? Regardless, Neil simply shook his head in response to the question. He couldn't answer; David would call him stupid. He'd dismiss those depressive thoughts that Neil had been having up until now, and hadn't noticed until the night of the attempt.

"Neil, please," David pleaded, "if you can laugh the way you were, then you can talk about it. Please."

Neil sat up, shaking his head again; he could feel himself trembling, trying not to break down. Though why he was going to cry about it; it's not like he was sorry, or had any regrets stemming from it.

"Neil."

Another head shake. Neil pushed the covers off of his legs and swung them so that they were hanging off the bed.

"Neil, you're not leaving this bed."

Neil looked up at David, staring into those stupid green eyes. The child hoarsely muttered, "fucking watch me," before hopping off of the bed. He stumbled and nearly fell over, but David quickly stood and caught him. Neil's knees went weak and he couldn't hold himself upright; he couldn't, even if he tried.

"You're staying here until you recover, and that's final," David ordered. He picked Neil up, who instantly started to kick and struggle.

"NO, DAVID, FUCKING PUT ME DOWN!" he screamed, "PUT ME DOWN, NOW!" His leg swung up and his foot came into contact with David's rib cage with a surprising amount of force; the counsellor's hold on Neil was released and he recoiled. Neil hit the floor, head-first, with a loud thud, and he could feel the dizziness in his head the second he hit it. But that didn't stop him from slowly dragging himself out of the room, taking advantage of every second that it took for David to recover from the kick. Somehow Neil was quick enough to get out of the room, and to his surprise (and luck) neither Max, now Gwen, nor Nikki were outside. Neil pushed himself to his feet, hearing the footsteps of David coming behind him and calling his name. The scientist made a break for it, adrenaline pumping through his body and forcing his legs to work. He ran and ran and ran, despite his pounding head and his weak, well, everything.

Neil soon found himself deep in the woods, branches whacking his face and scratching him up; his legs soon face out on him, and he collapsed. Neil laid in the dirt, shaking and crying, his lungs screaming for air again. He could feel stinging in his face; more than likely the dirt entering every scratch on his face. Maybe if he was lucky, it would get infected and kill him.

x

Time felt slow, but it wasn't nearly as slow as when he was hanging from that tree. When was that, anyway? He had no idea how long he had been out for. What did it matter though? The burning sensation in his face was slowly becoming unbearable, and his focus was far more on that than the passage of time. The pain, along with other things, caused him to cry; Neil's eyes stared up at the dark curtain of leaves above him, the tears dribbling down his temples and in his hair. Everything hurt, and it only amplified his want for death; he didn't even know why he wanted to die in the first place. All he remembered was feeling misery, and his emotions took over from there. Everything was happening so quickly, yet slowly at the same time.

"F-fuck..." he choked out. Exhaustion was starting to take hold of him, and his crying soon died down. He couldn't cry anymore, he was too tired. Neil pulled his arms up, wiping the tears from his burning face; the salted liquid only made the burning even worse. Neil couldn't help but allow a quiet scream to escape his mouth as the pain still only escalated further. It was hell, but he was aware he'd brought it upon himself. It was his own fault. He deserved the pain he'd brought upon himself. He fucking deserved it, no matter how he looked at it.

"G-goddammit... w-why...?" he whispered to himself, "w-why... the fuck... why did this happen...?" he inhaled shakily and blinked once. Twice. And on the third time, his eyes didn't open again.

x

It wasn't a person who woke Neil up, but rather the beginning of a storm. The trickling raindrops dribbled into the spaces between the leaves, and some of the drops hit Neil's face. He sat up, his body feeling heavy with lethargy. The spaces between the leaves were dark, and there were no visible stars. The nighttime was when the coyotes came to play, wasn't it? Maybe one of them would be nice enough to get him apart and use him as food for the pack. Then again, there was little meat on him; he'd be useless even as food. Fucking hell. Was he seriously that useless?

Jesus Christ... maybe he really should be dead. But he knew he couldn't even do that right. He tried, for fuck's sake. And he failed.

In the midst of his growing misery, Neil could hear yelling; someone was calling his name.

"Neil, I swear to God, I'm gonna kick your dead ass if I find you hanging off a goddamn tree again!" Max.

What the hell was Max of all people doing out here looking for him? Wouldn't Max, the angry ball of his parents' neglect, be the one to care the least?

"Neil, seriously. Seeing one of my best friends pulling something like that was one of the most fucking terrifying moments of my life! Get your ass out here now, so I can bring you back and we can get this shit sorted out!"

Neil hesitated, wondering if he should listen or not; the howling of a far-off coyote, however, was certainly enough to scare his anxious ass into gear and make him force himself to answer. "Max?" he called, "Max, where are you?"

"Neil? Neil, sweet Jesus, I didn't expect you to answer! Follow my voice, Neil!"

"Max, my legs won't move, I'm tired."

"Keep talking, I'll find you!"

He did, and he and Max called back and forth until soon Neil could hear someone running closeby.

"Did I find you?"

"Max?"

"Oh, Neil, mother of God, you're fucking here!"

A face—Max's face, to be specific—popped into view, and Neil screamed. "Jesus, Max!"

"No time to talk, let's go before the coyotes get out here."

"B–"

"And don't you dare give me any of that shit that you want to stay behind and let them eat you," Max quickly interrupted, "because believe me; I know you don't actually want to die. It's just something inside of you's making you feel that way. But we'll talk more about that when we get back; everybody's worried fucking sick about you." Max pulled Neil to his feet, and the taller boy stumbled. "Take it easy, we'll get out of here alive. We're not that far away from the camp, surprisingly."

The boys began to slowly make their way back to the camp; during their time, Neil began to open up to Max about what he had been feeling. How he had realized he completely miserable those past few days to the point where he didn't want to talk, consume, or even live. How he thought he had his suicide perfectly calculated, only to somehow botch it in the end. Max listened quietly for once, and when Neil finished talking he said, "sounds like you've been holding a lot of shit in these past few days."

Neil nodded, sighing shakily, "I... I've never really felt anything like that before, Max..."

"I can tell," Max answered, "but you've been really stupid about this whole thing. Like, really stupid."

"You don't exactly talk about this shit either, Max..." Neil mumbled in response, "so what right do you have to tell me that? That I'm being stupid for not saying anything about it, when you do the exact same thing?"

"Listen, Neil," Max sighed, "it's... complicated. But go talk to that dumbass David about it. He's seriously got some fucking insane insight on this*. You'd be pretty surprised."

"D... David...?" Neil asked.

"Yeah," Max answered, "but don't tell him I sent you. Just say you got the balls to talk about it yourself!"

Neil simply nodded in response, before the boys entered the vicinity of the camp. They approached the counsellors' cabin, and upon entering they came face-to-face—or, rather, face-to-back—with David.

"Hey, David!" Max said.

David sighed, "I'm waiting for Gwen, I'm not slacking off, Max."

"I know that, idiot, now turn around!"

David sighed, and did as Max asked; he gasped as he saw Neil by Max. "You found him!" he cried.

"Yeah, I did," Max answered, "he wants to talk to you about shit."

"Language, Max."

"That's not important, David. I'm going to bed now, you can tell everybody that he didn't get eaten by coyotes like that dumbass Preston kept saying. Neil, you can stand on your own now, right?"

Neil nodded, and Max scooted away from him, taking away any physical support he was originally offering. "Have fun chatting about your issues." He left, leaving Neil and David on their own.

"So, you wanted to talk?" David asked.

Neil nodded, folding his hands together and awkwardly shuffling on the spot. "Y... yeah..."

David smiled softly. "Well, come on over here and sit on the bed. We can take as much time as you need."

Neil hesitated, but soon found himself shuffling his way over to David's bed. He sat down, and after a few minutes of painful silence everything spilt out like a kid tipping cup of juice. It was all so simple to David, to Max, and it was all so simple to Neil. He didn't want to die; he wanted to live, even if his brain tried to keep him on that one simple track. But he wouldn't stay on that track; he'd save himself.

Oof, this took way too long to finish. That's a lie, actually, as it didn't take a week to complete this. Almost, though. Like one or two days short of a week. The word count exceeds 4 000, and it literally slowed my device down while typing. But it was worth it.

Sorrythendingwasshitlmao

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this, and are looking forward to future oneshots!

*Based off of a headcanon which will be covered in a future twoshot that will be published in this book!

Also fun fact: Neil was supposed to die in the end, but I decided to be nice and cut him some slack :')