I can't get this out of my head. I have two versions actually. I started this one and didn't like where it was going, so I started another vastly different but along the same premise, then I came back and revamped and finished this one. Not sure which one I actually like. This fic is inspired by the song Jeremy by Pearl Jam. Writing this piece just gives me peace of mind and helps keep the nightmares at bay that result from me analyzing this song too closely. It's also meant to let anyone out there know that there is always another road you can live by, even if you can't see it at the time. Suicide and violence are never an option. Please remember. Please never do this to yourself or others.
Warning/Triggers: Disturbing Imagery. Gun in school. Talk of suicide and suicide.
Slight spoiler for peace of mind: No character death for our boys. Strong Logan/James friendship but stars all boys.
A/N: I own nothing but my story line.
"Try to forgive this.
Try to forget this.
Try to erase this from the blackboard."
"Hurry up, Carlos! We have to get to 109. Preferably five minutes ago!" Kendall held onto Carlos' wrist as he bodily dragged the boy with shorter legs through the near empty hallways. "Logan and James already made it to class but Mr. Getz said if any of us were late again it would be detention every day for a week and that means being late to hockey practice every day and that means laps around the ice rink every day for being tardy to both class and practice and that means—"
"No fun." The Latino panted behind him. "Yeah. I'm aware, Kendall. So quit with the talking and move!"
The shorter boy acknowledged the quick glare he received before Kendall was pulling him around a corner hard enough to give the other boy whiplash though neither slowed down.
Less than a minute.
"So stupid because Getz is always at least ten minutes late himself!' Kendall continued his rant. "And he wouldn't even know we were late if Jamie Alliston wouldn't tell on us every time. I'll never understand what her problem is with us."
Carlos mentally zipped his lips and focused on running. He may have known what Jamie's problem with them was. And it may have involved a big water balloon with green color dye added to it. And that water balloon may have missed its original target (James) and instead fallen on Jamie and ruined her pretty white top. And she may have caught a glance of Carlos as he had quickly tried to hide himself. And that may have been freshman year. And in the year that had followed the anger that Jamie felt towards him may have trickled over to his friends a little bit.
Carlos had never even apologized. He felt terrible but he had simply been too embarrassed to. How could his aim have been that off? And how could he have accidently soaked the poor girl instead?
He'd put a twenty dollar bill in her locker to help pay for the shirt he'd ruined but he suspected she didn't think to him when she wondered where the money had come from—as the anger was still present and very palpable from the girl.
"Within sight!" Kendall yelled and pumped his fist in victory as the open classroom door, the number plastered above it, came into view at the end of the hall.
"Twenty seconds to spare!" Carlos joined the celebration. He pulled his wrist from Kendall and double fist-pumped adding a jump and a mid-air spin when they were only a few feet from the door.
He wasn't prepared however, to run smack into Kendall's back as the boy filled the doorway to their classroom, suddenly unmoving.
"Kendall! What the—?" Carlos' words came to an abrupt halt when he moved to the side of his friend to see what had stopped him.
Everyone was still in their seats. There was no teacher. He could hear a few girls and some guys in the back of the class crying or whimpering, fear evident on their faces. Everything else was silent. His wide eyes quickly scanned the group, picking out his two best friends in their front row seats, closest to the door, both looking equally panicked but both, thankfully, unharmed.
James was shaking like a leaf on a tree, looking for all the world like one wrong sound and he was going to bolt for the door. His right hand was stretched out as if to grab Logan and make a run for it.
Carlos shook his head, whether at James or the denial of the situation, he wasn't sure.
Logan, for his part, was looking pale. Sickly pale. Even his lips were void of color. His brown eyes as wide as Carlos had ever seen them as he moved his gaze from Kendall and Carlos' noisy entrance to the front of the classroom where their classmate—a boy they had been in school with for the last five years—was standing, a handgun firmly clenched in his grasp.
"Sit." Their classmate—Robert Blake, if Carlos remembered correctly—pointed his finger towards their respective seats, directly behind Logan and James.
Logan's eyes widened even further, if that were possible, and Carlos felt Kendall take an involuntary step back.
When they didn't move forward the gun came up, pointed in their direction, yet still off to the side. "I said, sit."
Carlos was the first to move, hastily taking his seat behind James with jerky movements. Kendall moved slower taking his seat behind Logan, more cautiously, his eyes never wavering from the gun as it went back down to the other boy's side.
None of them moved. None of them even thought to move as the boy—Robert—walked over to the door, closed and locked it. Locking them in from the outside world. Away from their families. Away from their, now lost, childhood. From salvation.
The boy's hand was shaking. Carlos could see it as he reached out to twist the lock. Hell, everyone could probably see it he was shaking so badly. Carlos chanced a look up into their captor's eyes but he didn't see the hate and anger he expect. Instead he saw terror. The boy looked like he was going to burst into tears at any second, like he was barely holding it together. Then why was he doing this?
Underneath it all there was a determination in his eyes. And desperation. And oh, God, that was what scared Carlos the most. A desperate man was an unpredictable one.
Maybe that's why none of them had rushed him while his attention was diverted. Or maybe they were all frozen. Frozen in this moment in time. Maybe they would never be free, never move again. Maybe they were stuck in this one perfect second of pure terror for eternity.
Or maybe they were all just kids and heroic moves were for the movies.
Either way Robert turned back around unchallenged and surveyed the eerie room in front of him. His eyes never lingered on one person for long and he wouldn't meet anyone's eyes. Carlos could tell 'cause Logan was trying to. He was staring at Robert in a way that unnerved even Carlos. Robert's eyes were moving but they would come back to Logan every few seconds before flitting away, as if he could feel the smart boy's gaze boring into him but refused to truly acknowledge it. The pale boy was barely even blinking and if he was it was a slow deliberate one.
Carlos was torn between his feelings of panic and of wanting to smack Logan on the back of the head for unnerving the kid even further than he already was. For that and for drawing attention to himself.
All they had to do was last a few minutes and an adult would come and fix everything. Right? Getz would come and know exactly what to do. Exactly how to save them. How to make this right. Just a few minutes was all they had to last.
But even as Carlos thought it he knew it to be a lie.
Nothing could fix this.
Nothing could make this right.
All that was possible now was to get them out with no bullets leaving the chamber of that gun.
"Why?" Came a whimper from the middle of the room. Carlos couldn't even pinpoint from exactly where but it was a young, soft, female voice and it caused Robert to flinch so badly that he had to take a step back to balance himself. He tried to play it off by moving behind the teacher's desk.
"Why what?" He asked back staring almost miserably at the gun in his hand.
"Why are you doing this?" Asked the same soft voice. It was Jamie Alliston. "Why are you hurting us?"
Carlos saw anger come to the boy's eyes for the first time and everyone seemed to flinch back and sink into their seats.
"Why am I hurting you?" Robert addressed the room as a whole, incredulously. "Why have you hurt me?!" He jabbed the gun towards the ground. "Why have I been the target of your jokes for the last two years?!" He yelled pointing an accusing finger at a few guys in the back of the room. "Your punch line!" He waved his hand at the whole class. "Your loyal steed." He gestured to some girls who ducked their heads either in shame or fear of having his anger directed towards them.
"Or perhaps none of that." Robert swept the contents of the teacher's desk to the ground. Papers hung in the air and floated down safely while a mug crashed against the tile floor violently shattering into jagged pieces. Some coming to rest at Carlos' feet. "Maybe you just ignored me." His gaze cast over the heads of the students. "Maybe you just turned a blind eye." His eyes focused in on Carlos then moved to James then Kendall and stopped on Logan last. There was a beat of silence where the two boys' just stared. Logan's gaze was still unnervingly intense and Robert seemed trapped.
"Maybe you just didn't care." Robert said, finally yanking his eyes away.
Robert turned his back to the room and still no one rushed to be the hero. To overthrow him, to get the gun. No one was willing to. Everyone else was waiting for another. No one wanted to start the violence. They just wanted to be back in their beds and to never have woken up to this day.
"None of you are worthy of forgiveness! You're all responsible. You're all—"
"Stop. Stop it now." Carlos heard James gasp and saw Kendall's mouth gape and felt his own eyes widen as they all turned towards Logan, whose voice was low and sharp, commanding. "Don't you put that on them. Don't you put this day on us. This is all you." Logan leaned forward in his desk, ignoring Kendall's hand that was trying to grab on his shoulder from behind and pull him back. "Yes, kids are bullies. Yes, they need to realize the things they do have repercussions. And yes, you were hurt but there is always another road. Another option. It never had to lead here. It never had to come to you bringing a gun to school and pulling it out against your classmates. You made this choice. You're the one that's responsible."
"How else could I get anyone to listen, Mitchell?!" Robert screamed causing near all the students to cringe down into their seats, Logan included, before a visible calm overtook him and he took it on himself to dispute with possible death. "No one cares! No one would listen! The bullies, the enablers, the teachers, the principal, my parents. None of you cared! None of you stopped to see what was right in front of your eyes. That I was crying out, that I was sinking lower. That I was drowning every. Single. Day. And not a single person noticed. Tell me, Mitchell, without this," Robert held up the gun, "this twisted piece of metal, how could I have ever gotten anyone to listen?"
Logan visibly swallowed, his eyes closing for a long second before he opened them with a deep breath. He focused on a chipped piece of the shattered mug for a moment before turning back, his voice wary. "In all truth, it would have been hard." Logan closed his eyes again. "And that's the saddest part of this world," Logan's voice held an irony but his face betrayed an abject humor. "Most of the time…" Logan's voice died before he swallowed and started again. "Most of the time it takes an act of desperation before people will finally see the distress that's been right in front of their eyes. Before they see the problem." Logan raised his head up, coffee eyes quickly changing from empathetic to blazing as he pointed an accusing finger. "But that does not justify your actions here! That does not make this right! Nothing… will ever," his voice quavered, he sunk back in his seat, "make this right."
"But they pushed me too far!" Robert defended as if Logan were the judge, jury, and executioner. "What would you have me do?!"
"Not this! Never fucking this!" Though the smack upside Robert's head didn't physically take place the feeling and effect were palpable enough as if it had. A mixture of pain, regret, and desperation took up the gun-toting boy's face. "You trudge on." Logan continued, incensed, "You realize that high school is temporary. You realize that it's barely going to be a freckle on the ass that is your life. That you could change things, in time, if you try hard enough. That you don't give up. Don't ever fucking give up and don't ever stoop this low." Logan actually yelled back, his anger overcoming his self-preservation. "You think we all haven't felt the effects of bullying?! Or that others don't have familial problems? You blame us for not seeing you but have you seen us? Have you seen the pain I've gone through? The jokes pointed at me for the way I dress? That fact that I 'act' nerdy? How about for being adopted?" Logan raised an incredulous eyebrow. "And ain't that one fuckin' low? Taunting me for something I had no control over. Something that the thoughts and memories of are already all-consuming enough, people have to throw salt on the wounds. Twist the knife. Plant the seeds of pain and watch them fester and grow." Logan ran a ragged hand through his hair. "And it isn't just me, it's everyone. Every single person here has been attacked by bullying. The innocent are bullied and the bullies are bullied. It's vicious and it's never ending because there is always someone willing to tear down someone else to make themselves feel better. Everybody hurts. It's not just you. You don't have a monopoly on pain!"
Logan barely took time for a breath before he was off again, years of his own pain and the pain of others he'd witnessed flowing through him. "But that's what bullies do. They take your strengths and spin them into weaknesses. They grasp onto the parts of you that they're jealous of or that they know you're insecure about and they squeeze with all their might until they are ugly, unrecognizable, even to you. And while we can sit here and clearly see that in hindsight—how they operate and twist our self-images into horrid, deranged misfits—we still let them win, we still give them the satisfaction their looking for because we still end up believing them. And even if we don't—believe them, that is—we still give them the satisfaction of a reaction and that's exactly what they are looking for."
Logan couldn't quite comprehend all of this. It was all becoming too much. He grasped his head between his hands and kept adding pressure but no pain was relieved. "I've been targeted by bullies, parents who don't care, and parents who pretend they do, every single day. I've seen shit in my life that I bet you can't even comprehend." It was less of a challenge and more of a tragic fact. "But I'm not up there threatening people's lives and ruining childhoods further than they've already been ruined by bullies, and society and parents who don't give a shit and..." Logan trailed off, his breath coming in near gasps as he tried to control his raging emotions.
He could feel the tears pooling in his eyes and knew he'd taken his ranting too far as he pushed them back down. He knew everyone was staring at him and he knew Robert still had a gun and nothing had likely changed but damn all, he couldn't hold his voice back. He couldn't let this boy stand up there emotionally scarring them all, blaming them for this day, a day they'd all already carry with them for the rest of their lives—no matter how it ended.
"It's shit." Logan filled the silence, his voice shaking as bad as his hands. His eyes closed to the heartbroken and disbelieving stares of his friends as they started to realize just how deep some of his pain went. "Life is shit." He leaned his forehead on his trembling hands. "But you just have to live with it. Fill it with moments that counteract that shit. Ones that you can look back on when things get bad. Fill it with people you can count on when the bad memories won't leave you alone." His eyes finally slid open as he took in Robert, who had taken a seat at the teacher's desk, and looked like he was actually taking what Logan said to heart. "It's not just you that's hurting." He repeated. "It's everyone."
"I'm not saying that it isn't." Robert rubbed at his right temple, the gun laying momentarily forgotten in the middle of the teacher's desk. "I know it's not just me. I'm not stupid enough to think it is but is that supposed to make me feel better?" His eyes searched Logan's pleadingly. "Is it supposed to make me feel better that other people know pain like mine? That they too know what it means to hurt?"
God, Logan didn't have an answer for this. They said, misery loves company, and it's always good to know you're not the only one in your shoes but the realization, in this case, was that to have that company, someone else has to feel the pain you've felt. Has to have seen the things you've seen and lived through the things you lived through.
"No." To say Logan was surprised to have Carlos' shaky voice answer for him was an understatement. When James and Kendall each picked up where the other left off, Logan suddenly felt like he could breathe again. The pain in his head subsided enough that he could take in a deep shaky breath.
"It's not supposed to make you feel better but it's undeniable and unavoidable that other people have gone through, are going through, the same things, and…" James trailed off.
"But, it gives you support. And it should give you hope." Kendall's voice died but picked up again. "Hope that if others are making it through your situation or even worse ones," Logan tried to ignore the way James' eyes seemed to flick towards him at Kendall's statement. "Then you can make it through yours."
"I don't think I can now." When Robert spoke his eyes were downcast, set on the black object that kept these students in their seats in fear and him from even the chance of salvation that the four boys were speaking about.
"Nothing has to happen!"
"You don't have to shoot anyone!"
"You can just walk away!"
"Let us leave, please."
The whole room was a cacophony of noise as students begged for safety and release. No one got up from their seated positions but the sudden impact of voices was enough to have Robert standing up, gun in hand, and backing away like a cornered animal. The chair he'd been sitting in tipped and crashed as he continued until his back hit the blackboard with his arms splayed to the sides of him, undeniable regret and fear now adorning his face.
The unpredictable movement from the gun-toting boy was enough to have two separate boys and girls dart from their chairs, assured the attack was beginning, half moving towards the door for escape and half moving towards Robert in some attempt to stave off the attack or allow their classmates to get away.
All the BTR boys could do was watch as Robert visibly flinched at the small insurrection coming towards him, the flinch resulting in a finger pulling against hair-trigger black metal and a shot ringing out. Everybody screamed. Students in their desks ducked their heads, students out of their desks dropped to the ground in terror.
For a perfect second all was silent as everyone looked to the wall opposite the door—away from any students or even hallways—which now sported a small hole and plaster that was still trickling to the ground.
Robert looked as terrified as everyone else in the room felt but when the screams from the other classrooms started up it was all over.
The other gloomy morning classrooms now knew what these 19 students had already known for the past ten minutes: that their lives were in danger, that someone in their school had a gun, and that it had just gone off.
The single sound of the 9mm handgun discharging was enough to send the rest of the school into chaos. The students in room 109 stayed silent, cowering beneath their own arms as they listened to other classroom doors slam open and students run out towards the freedom they desired. They listened to the screams build as the fear escalated, no one being able to pinpoint where the shot had come from and which way was to safety.
Room 109's door remained firmly closed and locked to the outside world. No one tried to open it. No one spared it a second glance. No one knew that what they were all running from lay behind it. Even the teacher, over ten minutes late to class, that booked a hasty retreat from the teacher's lounge and started ushering students outdoors to what was hopefully safety, forgot his own room entirely.
As the world outside shrieked in chaos, Logan lifted his arms from his face and looked at Robert who was looking between the door and the gun with wide-eyed terror but with something else lurking beneath it, a look Logan could interpret only too well.
"It's not too late." Nearly everyone, even Logan himself, flinched at the sound his own hoarse voice. "You didn't mean to discharge it. It was an accident."
Logan licked his lips trying to meet Robert's eyes and searched for the right thing to say.
"Y-you're a minor, Robert. You're sixteen. This was a mistake. I'll testify to that." Logan's head was spinning, heart pounding, the words were coming but he wasn't even sure if he believed them or not. "That's juvie. It's not jail. You didn't hurt anyone. A few years, a lot of community service hours, and you can try life over again! Just…" Logan stuttered, "just put on the safety and slide the gun to me."
Logan tried to feel in control as he stood up from his seat on shaky legs though he didn't move forward but a step when Robert started to gain the look of a cornered animal again. Logan stabbed his hand behind him in a universal STOP gesture to his friends whom he was sure were not willing to let him go forward alone. He heard their chair legs shuffle, praying they were each sitting back down but knowing that probably wasn't the case.
"B-better yet." Logan pointed to his head in order to emphasize his new idea, a sad attempt at a smirk on his face. "Just set it on the ground, right by your feet. Let everyone else leave and you and me, we'll walk out of here together. We'll explain everything."
Logan ignored the objections to the plan behind him and moved forward one step more. "Come on, Robert, please."
Robert finally looked away from the gun and to him. There was a sad misery and an undeniable acceptance on his face that scared Logan much more than the accidental shot had. The look in his eyes intensified and Logan knew, just fucking knew what was going through the other boy's mind.
"No." Robert shook his head, some sense of sick peace finally coming into his demeanor, Logan was trembling in denial of it. "All of you go. I'll come out after, no gun."
Logan was shaking his head but Robert didn't let him get a word past his lips.
"Everybody out." Robert finally looked at the room as a whole, meeting each of their eyes, each of the eyes he'd thought about closing forever this morning. "Go."
The students didn't need to be told twice. Once the first was on their feet the others followed, clumsily unlocking the door and running for their lives through the near emptied hallways—their footsteps echoed throughout the school as did their cries and their palpable relief.
Only five remained in the classroom, one nearly smiling, one on the verge of panic from something only he seemed to understand, and three that wanted to bolt but had yet to decide if they needed to bodily drag out the fourth yet.
"You are so full of shit! This is what cowards do!" Logan screamed, his volume louder than previously heard but he didn't dare take more than a step forward as Robert toyed with the gun, pointing it towards himself.
It took mere moments for the other three to catch on as they each reached a hand towards Logan, ready to snatch him backwards and out.
"Go, Logan. I told you I'd come out, no gun, after." Calm had descended over Robert.
"You're a liar is what you are!" Logan spat at him. "I'm not a fucking idiot! I know what's going to happen the second after we clear this building. I know what you're planning and it's what cowards do! It doesn't have to end this way, you're taking the easy way out!"
Robert chuckled almost affectionately at Logan. "You got me. But Mitchell, this is what you don't understand. I'm weak. I'm not a strong as you. I can't handle it anymore. I just can't."
"You could." Logan growled. "But you're not even trying. Everyone has strength they just have to want to use it. Find something to fucking live for!"
"I have nothing."
"That's bull—" He cut Logan off.
"It doesn't matter. You'll see it eventually. Either way, whether you and your friends leave this room or not, it's still happening. The only question is whether you're going to witness it or tuck-tail and run like you should. I'm done with this shit and I'm done with this life." Robert sighed and a small smile actually came to his lips along with a sad acceptance. "What I've done now is irreversible. I'm just done." Robert put the gun underneath his chin and gave Logan a regretful look that almost said 'what can ya do?' "You've got ten seconds. Decide quickly, I really don't want you, any of you, witnessing this."
"Like Hell!" Logan launched towards Robert but James was quicker with the help of Kendall and Carlos' hands pulling Logan back by his shirt. James hefted the shorter boy up over his shoulder and quickly turned toward the door, Carlos leading the way, Kendall bringing up the rear trying to block Logan's vision from what they now knew was coming.
"For the record, Mitchell," Robert yelled after them. "You gave me a good final send off." Logan's eyes met his over James' back. "It's nice to think that someone actually cares."
The boys didn't stop. Kendall slammed the classroom door shut behind them, breaking Logan's eye contact and hoping to shut out the traumatic noise that was soon to come.
Logan beat on James' back, screamed at them to stop, at Robert to stop. He yelled at them, told them that they were selfish, being stupid, letting a boy die. He fought and clawed and kicked both physically and verbally but James held fast, trying to get his friend as far away as possible in the few seconds that remained.
Neither the closed door nor the distance stopped the sound of the gunshot from reaching them. James jerked to a stop, the anguished cry from Logan enough to make him think that his friend had somehow been injured merely from the sound.
Logan didn't break free from James at his moment of indecision, though, as they would have expected. It was too late. There was nothing he could do. Breaking free would gain him nothing now except separation that he didn't want. Instead he went boneless on James' shoulder, gripping at the hem of the other boy's shirt as his lifeline.
It was only a few seconds before James felt the shift in the other boy and was hefting him back down in front of him, forcing Logan to let go of his death grip on the back of James' shirt and instead take up fisting the front collar and leaning into him.
James stood momentarily shocked at Logan's about-face from beating on James to hugging him but quickly hugged the other boy back, the shock of the shot and what it meant catching up with him too.
James let his legs give out beneath them, dropping him and Logan to the floor, as he was essentially holding all of the other boy's weight. Carlos and Kendall quickly closed in on either side of them, grabbing arms as well, their own tears leaking out and dropping onto the heads of their best friends that they smothered in their embrace.
- - btr - -
It was later that night, after they were found, after the police interviews, after being smothered by their parents, that they all gathered in blankets on the living room floor at Carlos' house. They refused to be separated, even if that meant some being separated from their parent(s) for the night.
Their blankets mounded high and covered the four of them—an ineffective shield from the outside world but placating for their minds. Logan lay on the very end facing the couch, away from his friends. His eyes were unfocused and he'd barely spoken a word since they'd left the school hallway behind.
He felt too much. He felt too deep. He needed to shut his brain off because he knew where his thoughts were leading and it was a scary place to dwell.
"You sure you're not mad at me?" James whispered at him for the tenth time that night. Logan had thought the other three finally asleep after long hours of each of them shaking in silence, reliving the day in their heads. He found himself turning over and facing James to clear this once and for all, he wasn't sure he could handle hearing this question an eleventh time or the horrible pain and uncertainty in his friend's voice.
Logan's eyes focus slightly on James as he got near to broaching the subject he'd been trying to avoid.
"I'm not mad. You're the ones that should be mad. I probably would have gotten shot or killed or accidently killed him. I don't know what I was thinking when I lunged at him, just that what he was about to do couldn't happen. It shouldn't have happened." Logan's voice cracked and wavered off. "I'm sorry." He started up again before James could get his words together. "I hit you, I kicked you, I bruised you. I said some terrible things." Logan wiped one of his eyes. "I didn't mean any of them. I was desperate. I'm sorry." He wiped at his eye again.
James shoved Logan's hand away and wiped the pesky tear off with the corner of one of their blankets.
"I understand. Don't apologize. The bruises will heal. There is no other pain there that was caused by you. Except…" James' voice trailed off, unsure.
Logan's stomach sank. This was going exactly where he'd been trying to avoid. He knew the question before it even came out of James' mouth.
"You've thought about it before, haven't you?"
Logan buried his head in his pillow. He knew James was talking about. Suicide.
"A few times." At James' look of genuine pain Logan continued quickly. "Not for a while. Only once really in the past two years."
The pained look didn't lessen any. "Logan, we've known each other for six years. I won't pretend to know everything that happened before I knew you, before you were adopted by the Mitchells. You aren't… you don't talk about it and I won't make you but what's happened in the last six years? What's happened that I don't know?"
'That I could have stopped,' hung in the air.
"I'm not going to go through every bad thing that's ever happened in my life."
Logan cutoff James' 'I'm not asking you to.'
"There have been bad things, yes, but it's not always something, James. There's not always some huge catalyst when the feeling comes upon you. Sometimes things just get overwhelming or memories catch up and drown you or your depression just gets the better of you. You just have to make it out of those moments, realize they will pass and that this world will seem possible again. You have to realize that it's worth it to fight through those moments and that, somehow, better days do lay ahead." Logan stopped talking to make sure James took that in before he started again. "It's never something I've truly thought out. I don't have a plan. It's always just been a passing thought. Something in my head that says, 'You could leave all this behind. You could never feel this pain again.'"
Logan jerked back in shock when James attacked him with a hug and clung to him with tears streaming, reminiscent of how Logan had clung to him in the hallway that day. Logan just patted James on the back awkwardly a couple times and stroked his hair as the other boy sobbed at him.
"Don't ever do it. Don't you ever do it. Promise me!" James grabbed his shirt and shook him. "Promise me you'll never kill yourself. Promise me you'll never even think about it again!"
"James, I.."
"Promise!"
"I promise. I promise." Logan pushed the boy back and made sure he was looking him straight in the eyes. "James, I would never, never do it. I would never take my own life. It's selfish and ungrateful and even cowardly and I just wouldn't, like I said it's always just been a passing thought. I would never. I swear."
James held back the whimper in his throat at the thought of getting a call or worse, walking in on the scene right after Logan had pulled the trigger on himself—the overwhelming helplessness that he would feel, the physical bile climbing up his throat, the trauma of seeing his best friend laid out dead like that, at his own hand. James would never be able to recover from something like that.
Logan put a hand to James' forehead and looked him straight in the eyes. "I promise."
James nodded with the words, feeling the sincerity in them—the absolute assurance.
"I think I know why I lunged at him. Why I wanted him to get better, to lead a different path so badly. The second reason. The reason that rivaled the one of wanting him to get better just for him." Logan changed the subject and James could not have been more grateful for it.
"Tell me."
Logan's eyes raised and lowered, fear coming to his face. "I don't want to. I've spent the entire night trying to avoid this line of thought."
James cleared his throat. "Then why'd you bring it up?"
"I didn't want you thinking about that anymore." Logan admitted then shrugged. "Lesser of two evils."
James was again reminded why this boy was so important to him—why he was one of his best friends.
"Tell me. Get it off your chest." When Logan didn't talk. "It's eating at you. Talk."
"It could have been me." The confession was so quick and so quiet James had to ask him to repeat it.
"It could have been me, James. It all could have been me."
"But you would never—"
"But what would it have taken? What's my limit?" Logan's eyes looked frantic searching James' own.
"Limit for what?"
"Limit for caring anymore. Limit for giving up. How far away am I from that kind of desperation?"
"I think if you haven't reached it yet, you don't have one."
"Things could be a lot worse, Jamie. A lot worse."
"Don't downplay your life, Logan."
"Just… It could have just as easily been me. We were the same in more ways than not. Why did I take my path and he took his? What was the difference?"
"The difference is you, Logan." James shushed his friend when he tried to rant again. "How you think and feel. Your empathy, Logan. Your unique humanity. The difference is though people have hurt you and kicked you and let you down, you still don't want anyone to ever have to feel what you feel. You don't want anyone else to know what pain is, even if it means hiding your own."
Logan stared at James with a crinkle between his eyebrows and a lump in his throat.
James reached out and grabbed onto Logan's arm, needing the contact for himself and to ground Logan.
"Robert didn't want to cause anyone pain either, not really." Logan whispered.
The name made James' back flare with chills. "No, he really didn't. He just wanted someone to listen, to acknowledge his pain. He just went the wrong way about it."
"Is there a right way?" Logan asked and dammit James didn't really know how to answer.
"In some cases, I think. When you have people that care about you, people that see, people that listen. When you don't have those people it becomes… an obsession, maybe. This constant desire in your gut for someone, anyone, to see and care that you're in pain. To tell you how strong you've been to feel the way you do every day and still be walking with your head up high or walking at all. He could have gone to a therapist or the school counselor, a support group, called a hotline, talked to someone at school, talked to you but at the same time I can imagine that all of those options seem pretty bleak and unpromising. But he needed to try. It never should have ended like this. There is no excuse that will justify what he did."
"I know." Logan sniffled, inclining his head. "It doesn't matter how bad you feel yourself, ruining lives, ending your own, aren't options you can even consider. There's always another option, even if you can't see it at the time." Logan sighed heavily. "And sometimes that option is just to endure it. To live with the pain until another option does appear."
James let out a laugh resembling a sob and pulled Logan into a quick hug again. "I hate that you know what that pain feels like. I hate that you've ever even thought about ending your life because it was too much but I am so thankful that you have always been able to see past it and see that things will eventually get better. It doesn't seem like it but they will. I am immeasurably grateful that you know that people would care if you died, everybody should know that. Somebody, somewhere cares whether you live or die. I'm so thankful that you have the strength to see that just because suicide is the easiest option, that it could end all the pain, doesn't mean it's ever a viable option."
James pulled back, holding Logan's shoulders and looked desperately at his best friend. "But most of all… I'm thankful you're you." James swallowed and gave a soft, if painful, smile. "Because even with all the pain and trials you've been put through in your life, you are here for a reason. You are meant for great things and giving up on that and taking yourself away would deprive the world of all that you will one day offer it."
- - btr - -
I want you in this world. Your life matters.