Adam's Song,, a fairly oddparents fanfic

AN: I OWN NOTHING OF THE FAIRLY ODDPARENTS FRANCHISE!
Me: Well I was listening to one of my favorite songs (Adam's Song) by Blink 182 when I thought that it would go perfectly to Cosmo as a teenager.
Arya: Once again she does not own the song, the band or the television show that's really for people that are nine but she likes it anyways.
Annabeth: Please review!

Adam's Song:

He threw open his bedroom door. Both his mother and brother were out and he didn't care if the neighbors heard him. He slammed it shut after he walked in and turned his stereo up as loudly as he could, blasting heavy metal. He went over to his dresser and violently pulled the top left drawer open and pawed his way through his socks until he felt it; the hilt of his pocket knife. He took it out and slammed the drawer back shut before going over to his window and closing it tight, making sure to lock it and draw the curtains closed. He looked at himself angrily in the mirror over his dresser. His green hair was in a mess and his eyes were blazing with anger at himself. His shirt was slightly torn and he took it off, revealing his chest. He flicked the knife open and cut himself across the chest just enough to leave him with a scar there forever.

I never thought
I'd die alone.
I laughed the loudest;
Who'd have known?

He watched as the blood trickled slowly from his wound down his chest and onto his stomach. It stung badly, but he needed the pain. It reminded him that he was still alive; but them what was life if all it ever was was numbness or pain. There's no point to a life that's not worth living. He raised the knife and cut him shoulder, but not enough to scar. If he lived to see tomorrow, his mother shouldn't have to see the evidence of the reminder. As the blood began oozing out of his shoulder and the cut on his chest continued to sting harshly, he thought of his father and how he'd helped make him like this. Make him so that the world was a living hell through his eyes. Make him so that any joy was brief and any pain was ever-lasting. He shared the blood of a monster and it felt purifying to see it leave his body.

I traced the cord
Back to the wall;
No wonder,
It was never plugged in at all.

He raised a hand to his right cheek, feeling the spot softly where there was a tiny scar just by his ear from when he was a child. His father had thrown a china cup at his eye and it had left it's mark. He traced the moon-shaped scar with his fingers and then touched his chest gently where he had cut himself in a long line across it. The blood was still coming but some of it was tacky from being outside of the body for so long. He opened the drawer on the bottom right and took out some medical bandages that he'd stolen from his mother after she'd gotten back from a late shift at the hospital. He began wrapping it around his chest, his shoulder cut burning as it was torn open slightly wider at the movement of his shoulder in the socket.

I took my time,
I hurried up.
The choice was mine,
I didn't think enough.

He put a band-aide on his shoulder cut and sat on the edge of his bed with the pocket knife resting beside him. He buried his head in his hands and groaned out of tiredness. That's when it occurred to him that his family wouldn't be home for another two hours. He looked at the pocket knife sitting beside him with sudden desire. If life was only ever going to be numbness after numbness and nights of feeling pain just to be alive, what difference would it make if he were to die? He had no real friends other than one or two from school and his mother had enough stress without having to deal with him every day of her life. Teachers wouldn't have to stay after school because he got detention again for fighting with Luther or his failing grades. Everyone would be happier really, even if they don't realize at first. They'll get on better without him.

I'm too depressed
To go on.
You'll be sorry
When I'm gone.

He picked up the knife and held it gingerly in both of his hands. The blade was smooth and the tip was sharp. All it took was one thrust into his heart and he'd die. Or maybe a few cuts into the wrist over the bathroom sink. Maybe he'd just slit his throat. He moved so that he was still sitting on the bed but his back was to the wall of his bedroom. He double checked to make sure he'd closed the curtains before returning his attention to the knife. He thought about his age as his face gleaned on the metallic surface of the blade. He was seventeen years old. Young even for humans, infantile in fairy lives. He pushed the tip gently into his finger tip, pricking through the skin to get a drop of blood. He'd had seventeen years of trying life and he was done with trying.

I never conquered,
Rarely came.
Sixteen just held such better days;
Days when I still felt alive.

He traced a pentagram star across his left palm with the finger he had pricked on his right hand. When he finished he held the knife up to his throat, preparing to slit it. He put a little pressure, but then pulled the knife away slowly. This wasn't the way he was going to do it. It was much too quick, he wanted to experience his death; that final feeling of salvation after a lifetime of war and deprivation. This was going to be his peace, the greatest thing he'd ever done. He looked over at his desk that was next to his bed against the adjacent wall to his right. On it sat a picture of his mother and his brother. He was in the middle. He leaned over and put the picture face-down. He didn't want them to see what he was about to do to himself.

We couldn't wait
To get outside.
The world was wide
Too late to try.
The tour was over,
We'd survived.
I couldn't wait
Till I got home
Just to pass the time in my room alone.

He checked the time on the clock. Only ten or so minutes had gone by so he still had plenty of time until they returned. He still couldn't decide on how to kill himself. He got up, tossing the knife onto his bed, and opened his door. He walked out into the hall, making his way towards the kitchen. When he got there he opened the refrigerator door and took out a twelve-pack of beer leftover from when his uncle on his mother's side had come to visit. He took the whole thing back to his room and locked the door behind him. He took one out and drank it slowly as he sat in the same position on his bed as before, the knife closed and in his hand as it spun it between his fingers. He continued to drink and when he'd finished the first he opened a second. And a third and a fourth until he felt a familiar numbness setting in. He opened the knife and cut a small line across his left wrist.

I never thought I'd die alone,
Another six months and I'll be unknown.
Give all my things to all my friends,
Never step foot in my room again.

As the blood trickled from his wrist and onto the bedsheets he continued to drink and as he drank he thought. He thought about the past as he made another cut onto the same wrist. He thought about when he'd shared this room with Cygnus, his brother. How Cygnus had been older and when Cosmo had been afraid of the dark he'd allowed him to come into his bed with his teddy bear and sleep with him for the night. He thought about the time he'd broken his mother's vase in the hall and when his father had come at him with a bat for coming home when he was drunk. The memories mixed with the blood as both continued to flow. He made another cut on the other wrist.

You'll close it off, board it up;
Remember the time that I spilled the cup
Of apple juice in the hall?
Please tell Mom this is not her fault...

His memories shifted to his mother more than anyone. She was only the one that cared for him more than anything. She did her best to protect himself and Cygnus from their father, and now her son will die because he was too much of a coward to brave the world. He made a deeper cut on his left wrist. He desperately hoped that she'd know when this was all over and done with that none of it was her fault that it had all been him. It was never her fault.

I never conquered, rarely came,
Sixteen just held such better days;
Days when I still felt alive.
I couldn't wait to get outside.
The world was wide, too late to try.
The tour was over, we'd survived.
I couldn't wait til I got home,
To pass the time in my room alone.

The next thing Cosmo remembered was waking up in a dazzlingly white room. His head was pounding and his chest burned with every breath. His shoulder ached lightly and his wrists stung like hell. His vision was slightly blurred but it came into focus in a few slow moments. A jade haired fairy with matching eyes was watching him and smiled upon seeing him wake. Was this an afterlife? The fairy looked eerily familiar. The jade haired boy leaned forward and kissed him on the forehead. Another person came into view; a mint-haired fairy with a deep look of concern in her eyes. That's when he realized who they were. They were Cygnus and his mother. "Where...?" He managed to ask them in a cracked voice.

"The hospital dear," his mother spoke softly, "I called an ambulance when Cygnus unlocked your door and saw you in a bloody mess on your sheets." He nodded, his head was pounding from the hangover of all the beer. He didn't want to talk anymore so he closed his eyes. He blacked out after just a few moments.

The tour was over, he'd survived.