Disclaimer: I don't own Grey's Anatomy (as much as I wish I did). Lyrics at the bottom are from "Fake Plastic Trees" by Radiohead, which inspired this.
Ellipsis
When Alex was fifteen he had tried to kill himself. Tried being the operative word here, since clearly he hadn't succeeded. In fact, all he had really accomplished was wasting a lot of money on medication that if he had looked into it probably wouldn't have killed him anyway. He had been really sold on the idea at first, fed up with his life and thinking there would be something really poetic in the act. His cold, dead body lying on the bathroom floor, possibly accompanied by some note perfectly outlining all the injustices of the world and those done to him specifically. He spent hours crafting the perfect message. A final "fuck you" to his parents, who never really cared about him anyway. But then his sister had knocked on the door needing her toothbrush and Alex decided he'd rather go play basketball in the driveway. That had been the end of it, though he had still kept the pills in his bottom drawer just in case. He didn't want to waste the money.
The first time someone had asked about the scars, he had been at some party his best friend had dragged him to and then swiftly abandoned him to find somewhere to get high. She had looked at him expectantly, straddling his waist and Alex, ever the self-preservationist, had spouted off some line about falling out of a tree. She had said she didn't believe his bullshit, but took a drag from his cigarette and fucked the shit out of him anyway. She had been almost ten years older than him and it was definitely illegal, but he was a good fuck. His muscles were toned and she was fucking gorgeous in an unconventional, tattooed sort of way. He decided he liked her, even though he saw her blow another guy in the kitchen later on that night. It had actually been kind of hot and he decided he might like to try fucking her in front of everyone sometime. Show them how man enough he was. Except later that week he had heard from a friend of a friend that blowjob guy had given her some sort of disease and he decided it was better to just stick with girls his own age.
Izzie had never understood why he chose to fuck girls he picked up in bars. She had expressed her distaste for it, clearly, the night he had brought back some chick and had sex with her in the downstairs shower. Dirty, she had said. The girl was dirty. He was dirty. Everything about it was dirty, dirty, dirty. She had spent hours yelling at him until he had promised to scrub the bathroom clean, promised he'd be a little more considerate next time. He had taken her by the wrist and told her to embrace the dirty, but she laughed harshly and told him she'd rather not be with someone who made it his job to fuck the entirety of Seattle. He pushed her up against the hallway and told her to take it back, told her to say she was lying, but her eyes stared back at him defiantly and he knew he had met his match. He kissed her angrily, his body pressed against hers as she clawed furiously at his back. He called her a home wrecking whore and gripped her tightly as she pulled his hair and told him he was a fucked up, good for nothing manslut. Her fingers ran down over his wrists before she shoved him and scowled, slapping him in the face. She left him standing there, but not before yelling, "fuck you" and shoving him again for good measure. It tore at him a little and he wanted to ask her for another chance to fix this mess, but the fight in him was gone and he opted for cleaning the bathroom instead.
Gravity always wins
It wears him out
