I was just guessing

At numbers and figures

Pulling the puzzles apart

Questions of science

Science and progress

Do not speak as loud as my heart - "The Scientist" by Coldplay

A/N: Sorry for this. I know it's cheesy as hell and probably a more than overdone scenario, but I couldn't get the idea out of my head. Trigger warning: suicide attempt.

He should have known better.

There was no point, Morty thought sadly as he trudged slowly home.

Maybe Rick was right- maybe "that thing people call love" really was "just a chemical reaction that compelled animals to breed"-it really wasn't anything, really. And why bother trying-he wasn't worth loving anyway. People thought they were in love, but really, they (probably) just loved the idea of loving. People got married and wound up fighting all the time, like his parents did. What did it all mean, when it came down to it, anyway? Was any of it really worth it?

He'd finally gathered up the courage to ask Jessica, his long time secret crush, out to the Spring Celebration Dance.

She'd politely reclined, telling him she already had someone to go with. She didn't say who, but it didn't matter. He knew it was probably a lie. She just didn't want to go with him. He was a nobody, a nothing-and he'd never find another girl like Jessica.

If he told anybody about this, they would just probably laugh in his face.

Rick was really the only person he confided in, and Rick would most certainly laugh in his face.

Rick was right-he was stupid, weak, and pathetic.

Morty went straight to his room and went to bed. He didn't go down for dinner, and when his mother called for him, he yelled back hoarsely that he wasn't feeling well (which was the truth, he wasn't). He didn't want to eat. He wasn't hungry. He wasn't anything really. He just wanted to sleep and not wake up.

Nobody came to check on him later that night.

Nobody cared.

He woke up in a cold sweat, shivering uncontrollably, thinking of all the stupid things he'd done over the years, and suddenly all he could think about was how he could stop the thoughts from coming.

In the stillness he crept silently into the garage. He knew where Rick kept his secret-secret stash of booze, and it didn't take Morty long to find it. He chugged hard at the liquid until his head swam and he couldn't think straight. The room spun slightly but he didn't care.

He saw a razor sitting on the workbench. It glistened in the moonlight.

Morty took the razor and sat on the cold cement floor. He stared at the half-empty bottle in his hand. The bottle shook. He was shaking. The razor felt cold against his skin. Salt from his tears mixed with the sting of the alcohol on his tongue as he brought the razor closer and closer to his wrist-

BAM!

An unexpected force sent him sprawling, and the razor fell out of his hand, disappearing somewhere in the shadows, as did the bottle which went crashing and shattering into a million pieces, and his head smacked hard against the floor. He swung in his unknown attacker's direction in a drunken, halfhearted attempt to defend himself, but was stopped almost immediately by tight grip to his wrist, and he was suddenly dragged up into a sitting position-and he could see his attacker.

"R-Rick-please-NO!" Morty croaked out with shock, half expecting Rick to kill him, half wanting him to.

"Fuck you Morty."

Morty cowered as Rick came closer, bracing himself for the impact-

And was more than surprised when, instead of pain, he was embraced by two strong arms, and suddenly his face was pressed against his grandfather's chest.

"...Rick?" Morty's voice was muffled.

"Shut up," said Rick as he hugged his grandson. His voice was hoarse and wet.

"I'm…I'm sorry Rick." Morty couldn't believe what he'd just (almost) done. He hung his head in shame.

"I know, kid. I know." Rick kept his grandson close. He didn't dare lift his face for fear of what Morty might see there.

There was nothing left to say.

There was only love.