A/N: Panic attack, mention of suicide, and one (plot) spoiler for S3 of 13RW

Other than that, enjoy my fanfic! Thank you for the request :D

Slamming the door shut, Clay dropped his backpack by the door and plopped himself down on the bed. He took a shaky breath, staring at his feet. At school, he kept trying and trying to talk to people. To let his voice be heard. Jessica was pissed at him for no reason. Justin shooed him away. He managed to "talk" to Tyler but it was obvious he wasn't listening.

Clay was sick of everyone treating him like he was disposable. Like he was supposed to be their therapists. Hannah wanted him to stay and comfort her. Hannah died. Alex had dropped obvious hints at his suicide attempt. He almost died.

Clay begun to spiral. The cops thought he murdered Bryce for god's sake! He tried taking in a deep breath -following his therapists advice- but it was to no avail. Clay's eyes began to get teary, he let them build up until suddenly they all fell down. His hands were shaking as everything he'd been through flashed through his mind. It all led back to Hannah. Fucking Hannah.

He missed her.

He didn't even realize he was bleeding until he felt liquid on his fingers. Clay has been digging his fingernails into his skin, trying to block out his thoughts. More and more images of Hannah in the hot tub, Jessica at the party, Tyler trying to shoot up the school and more replayed in his head.

Forgetting he was literally out in the open, he jumped up scared when the door opened. It was Justin. He looked up from his phone, his face going from numbed to filled with concern.

"H-Hey dude what's going on..?" He said, quickly making his way to Clay. "It's nothing, fuck off." Clay replied, pushing him slightly. Justin sighed, wiping some dirt off of his jeans "Clearly, it's not nothing, Jensen," he rolled his eyes. "Tell me what's up."

"I-Its just fucking everyone..!" Clay replied in a choked sob, his voice caught in his throat. Justin wasn't expecting this answer, but he wasn't surprised, "Hey, what do you mean?" He asked in a calming tone. Clay started at the floor, his hands balled up into fists.

"I don't know!" Clay said. Justin sighed, "You do know. Just take a moment, try to explain it," He gently placed a hand on clays shoulder, giving him a side hug. Rolling his eyes, Clay took a breath.

"..."

"Everyone acts like I'm their damn therapist. I'm so fucking sick of it! Don't people have common sense?! Hannah fucking killed herself and left us in all of her shit for a reason!" Clay began ranting, and began to shake even more. Justin sat there in shock, not being able to do anything but stare at Clay.

"How are you everyone's therapist-" Justin began, but he was cut off.

"How do you not fucking see it?! I'm always doing the dirty work, and picking up everyone's shit!" Clay exclaims, his hands supporting his forehead. He let out a shaky breath.

"I.. I'm so sorry." Justin says, squeezing Clay's hand. "I'm sure you are," Clay snaps. After a second or two, Clay apologizes for the remark. After that, a silence falls over them. It wasn't an uncomfortable one, nor was it enjoyable. It was just.. calm. Like sleeping in freshly washed sheets with the smell of warm cotton and Fabreeze fills the air.

"I'm going to try harder." Justin says, breaking the silence. "H-Huh..?" Clay replies, his head aching. "People shouldn- I-I shouldn't have been treating you like that. You're not exactly wrong, Jensen." He sighs.

"Things will get better. I promise." Clay smiles a little. He trusts Justin, but a slightly uneasy feeling still lingers.