A/N: So I am feeling a little angsty lately and so my muse reflects my feelings; but at least I know where I am going with this one. Happy ending, I promise. I was actually originally inspired by a similar plot but they left it opened ended. With how I'm feeling lately I figured I wanted to exploit those feelings for writing but I wanted to go deeper into the drug aspect; no so much with the actual drugs, but with the feelings and thoughts that surround the usage of depression medication. I don't even know how far I'll take it, I'm just going with the flow right now.
Warnings: suicidal thoughts, drug induced feelings and talk there-of, general (Klaine is not together?! Why?!) angst
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters depicted, this is a work of fan fiction.
Enjoy!... Or not.
He was tired all of the time now, sluggish.
The doctor said his body needed to get used to the medication, that his tiredness would fade over time.
Blaine told him he was a liar.
...that has something to do with the tranquilizers that the doctor thought were necessary. His attitude, that is.
Your father comes home to you throwing-up the pills that you took all at once and everyone freaks. He just had not done it right this time.
Even now, weeks after the "attempt", he still does not understand why his parents reacted the way they did, how they continue to react. Granted, they never really hinted that they did not love him, it was just clear to him that Cooper was the favorite... at least they made it seem that way. Blaine found it hard to be around them now, for more reasons than their hovering.
No one else knows.
Not his brother.
Not his "friends".
Not Kurt.
Just his parents knew that Blaine tried to kill himself a month ago.
The glee-club kids thought he was acting a little strange lately, but most of them chalked it up to Blaine still being upset about the break-up. A reason they soon were becoming tired of.
"Get over it."
"Maybe you should move on?"
"You've punished yourself enough."
"You're being stupid."
"Grow a pair."
It did not matter how good their intentions were, Blaine got worse with each comment. As if their words were taking scoops out of his chest, bringing his already fragile heart further and further into the harsh outer world.
Instead of Blaine feeling each and every dig, he could only watch it happen; watch as ice-cream scoop after ice-cream scoop came out of his chest until the wound was gaping but only bleeding sluggishly. His ribs visible and the membrane his heart was protected by pulling at the backs of his ribs with each beat.
He could not feel because he was numb.
He was bleeding slowly because his whole body was sluggish.
The doctor says it is the medication and his body will eventually adjust.
Liar.
Blaine knows his body will never adjust. The meds he's on are tranquilizers; they were just milder than the ones he was on while they had him strapped to a bed in the mental-ward at the hospital. The only reason he did not get transferred to a facility is because his parents would have to report it to the school. That would just cause publicity that they did not want.
...and really, who would?
It was not as if Blaine could not push himself to do things at his normal pace, he could. The medication just made it harder; like he was wading through water head-to-toe. He would pass time by (in his head of course) sometimes imagining when he was walking through the halls he was a fish and the school was a fish-tank. He even had bubble sound effects in his head.
The fantasies would only last seconds because nothing amused him anymore, nothing interested him.
The only thing that really kept Blaine going at all was the thought of Kurt.
...of Kurt and how he will soon be living his life pain free.
Free of Blaine.
Now if Blaine could just get to his medication that his parents kept in their room, he would be set. Kurt would be set free.
Free from ever having to think of Blaine again.
Free from the pain that Blaine caused him.
Free from the nagging tug of wanting Blaine back.
It was just a matter of getting from here, to there.
Just keep swimming. Just keep swimming. Swimming, swimming, swimming.
Okay, maybe that was a little funny... Nope. Nothing.
It had been a month. One might think that that was not enough time to let your child be alone in the house, considering what he almost did a month ago.
Nope, not his parents.
Blaine did not think they did it on purpose. There must have been some time schedule mix up, because his mom had been home when he got back from school but had rushed out the door and yelled up the stairs at his dad—but his dad was not home. Blaine checked.
In fact, he was standing in the threshold of his parents' room, which up until this point had been locked.
Still, his dad was not home and his mom just left and here he was standing in the door-way to his freedom. All he needed was his medication.
He had always wondered why certain depression medications were downers. Why give a downer to someone who is down? Did, for some reason, doctors think that by giving a downer to someone who is down would not make them more down?—Downer? Whatever.
Maybe the tiredness was enough. Blaine could understand that. The first two weeks back from the hospital he slept almost all of the time, and then he was sleeping almost immediately after he got back from school.
But what is a medicine induced sleep anything but the teasing promise that was absolute nothingness?
Damn he hated not having a set trail of thought anymore. The stupid medication was making it hard for him to stay awake sometimes, let alone think like he normally did. Why could he not have his thoughts flow like they used to?!
His medication was not in his parents' bedside tables, nor in their sock draws. But it was okay, because he found their safe.
Was there really a better place than to keep medication away from a suicidal son than in a lock-box at the bottom of the closet?—Nope, Blaine did not think so either. Expect maybe a pharmacy and only being able to pick up a pill at a time, but he digressed.
Now... for the combination.
It was a dial-lock. Blaine squeezed his eyes shut, That means only three numbers. Seems simple enough... but then again, that could just be his medication talking.
Blaine laughed when he turned the first set of numbers (Cooper's birthday) on the dial and the box popped open.
Nice to know that my parents still favor Cooper, he thought with a hum as he pulled the small door open, revealing the contents of the lock-box.
There it was, in all the orange plastic glory.
Once Blaine picked it up and left his parents room, he did not think of anything else than getting to his own room.
He did not think of closing the lock-box door.
He did not think of his dad being home but in another room upstairs.
He did not think of how strange it was that his mother worked a day job but she was leaving the house after he got home.
He did not think of his parents being worried about him so much that they called Kurt.
He did not think of Kurt being picked up at the airport mere hours after he had been called.
He did not think past his closed door... a bottle of water... the cover of his bed...
He did not think past the white cap that his hand only slipped on opening once.
He... just did not think.
...because he was tired of thinking.
Tired of remembering. All his smiles.
Tired of imagining. What our life would have been like.
Tired of dreaming. Of his touch, his kiss, his eyes.
Blaine was just tired.
Of everything.
So he did not think as he spilled the first two pills into his hand.
It was better that way.
That is why the doctor was a liar, because Blaine's tiredness was not going to fade.
It never would.
A/N: So this one is short and the feelings don't go as deep as with Feeling Wanted, but that's for a reason... Blaine is on drugs. His perception will change with each chapter.
Anyways, thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed... or are at least interested in the happy ending that it coming...
Until next time,
Anjel Starlight