A/N: So continuing with the 'Depressed Malcolm' theme, because I just watched a sad movie, and then read the latest excerpt on usedusername's profile. Yeah, got me to thinking. And I hope I'm encouraging, and not distracting her, because I'm really loving how this extended version of 'Truth' is coming along. There's something about Malcolm's heart hurting that gets me to writing..
Drabble Number... shoot, is it Six already? Dang. Six's Rating: T (For, yet again, Reese swearing. Once.)
Desperate
There are few things that Reese likes better than smashing a pumpkin. Or throwing eggs. Or leaving a perfectly straight scratch down the length of a newly painted car. No, there are not many finer things in life than that for Reese. There are, however, two things he cherishes above all else, and one is getting a rise out of Malcolm. The other, which sometimes has to do with the first, but not often, is when he can lay his head on Malcolm's chest and listen to him breathe.
But if you tell anyone that, you'll wake up six feet under in a wooden box. So keep it to yourself. Feel privileged.
The problem at the moment, however, is that Malcolm is depressed. Why this is, Reese still has yet to fathom. He does know, though, that the situation is getting worse. For while he can, and certainly does, lie flat on his stomach in the bed next to his brother with his ear firmly planted to Malcolm's chest, Malcolm doesn't even seem to feel it. He does nothing but lie there as well, flat on his back, and stare up at their ceiling. He makes no other sound, nor any other indication that he is alive. He simply breathes in, and he breathes out. Over and over again.
And while normally this would be comforting to Reese, now it isn't. If he could form his thought process into words, Reese might say that Malcolm's breathing seems... hollow. As if Malcolm himself were hollow—a body performing its natural functions while the soul is away.
Malcolm rarely speaks, and when he does it comes out just as hollow—broken and smashed. Reese briefly wonders, as Malcolm's chest methodically rises and falls, if he ever had something to do with that. Were his constant jibes and torments a means to this end?
What makes it worse, though, is that there is absolutely nothing he can do. Because, God knows, he's tried. So many, many times. At first he went with the obvious stuff—wedgies and wet willies and Indian rug burns. And when that didn't work he went for shock value, going as far as to plant one right on Malcolm's cheek one day in the middle of lunch. That had ended with nothing more than a mere blink in his direction, and then Malcolm had gone back to his sandwich.
One day Reese had even broken down, gotten right up in Malcolm's face, and told him to "Snap the fuck out of it already!" Malcolm had gone to his room and climbed into bed, and later when Reese had sheepishly poked his head in to check up on him, he'd found dried streaks down Malcolm's cheeks. So he hadn't tried that again.
So as he lays there, and Malcolm breathes in and breathes out, Reese wracks his brain. Because he knows he isn't smart; knows he could never dig into Malcolm's head and beat the shit out of whatever it is that's wrong with him, but there has to be something he can do. Because now he's turned to the sissy stuff—the stuff he never would have considered before now. He's tried holding him and lying with him. He's kissed him and told him he loves him over and over. He's bought him things. He even did his homework, thinking that maybe Malcolm would be proud of him. But still there's nothing.
And this worries him. It makes something deep inside of him twist and clench in fear every time Malcolm's breathing slows. It makes him wonder, possibly for the first time in his life, what could happen in the future. What if Malcolm stays like this for the rest of his life? What if there happens to be just that one time, just that one time when Reese can't watch him? What would happen then? And, if the worst did happen, how would he handle it? What would he do without Malcolm?
Without Malcolm they would all fall apart, he knew. Malcolm was that vital middle section they needed, and if severed all would fail. Without him a link in their chain would be gone. And that's exactly what they were, a chain. Francis, Reese, Malcolm, Dewey, Jamie. They had always been a chain—certainly they got to add to the chain from time to time, but a chain they had always been just the same. They depended on one another, and Malcolm was in the exact center of it all. He was the one that got them through tough times, the one that thought up the brilliant escape plans and the brilliant retaliation plans. He was the one you went to when you needed a big word defined or a difficult subject explained.
He was the one Reese went to for... for...
He can't take it anymore. He just can't. At first it had been easy, because Malcolm was still relatively normal then. But slowly the jibes lost their impact, and Reese hadn't been able to get the same reactions he needed. Slowly Malcolm had become not Malcolm. It was like he was disappearing entirely. He was seeping through like sand through one's fingers; wisps of smoke slipping through the cracks.
And as Reese lays there, and Malcolm breathes while Reese listens, he knows there is nothing he can do. He knows he is helpless as he watches Malcolm fade away. He knows that all he can really do is wrap his arms tightly around his brother, and listen to him breathe.
A/N: For whatever reason, this was started in present tense, and hopefully continued that way to the end. I'm so used to past tense that I find it extremely hard to stay within the present. So if there're any random tense changes in there, sorry.
As for Reese's, seemingly insightful and intelligent, thought process in this, I was trying to convey what he was thinking, but unable to form into words. I think that was mentioned in there, briefly. He would never be able to put any of that in the way that I did, but if he could, I'd say it'd sound something like that.
Reviewing is not necessary, but I do hope you enjoyed it. Virtual hugs can and will be given if I've made you depressed with this, though. :)
