impulsivememories
March 21, 2013, 6:58 p.m.
Falling's Not the Problem
The voices never stop, and Blaine wishes they would.
T - Words: 871 - Last Updated: Mar 21, 2013 688 0 0 2 Categories: Angst, AU, Characters: Blaine Anderson, Marley Rose, Tags: OMG CREYS,
Author's Notes: TW: SELF HARM AND HARMFUL LANGUAGE I know this isn't really Kurt and Blaine centered, but there is a mention of their relationship. reviews are love
You're such a freak.
You have no talent.
No one likes you. They only pretend to. They only care about themselves.
You're worthless.
Why not just end it all right now. It would be better for everyone.
Voices. So many voices. They never stop; they just kept on pulling him down into this deep pit of depression. Sometimes he could keep them at bay, at a minimum. Not recently though. They just kept on getting louder and louder and louder. They got so loud that he ended up on his bedroom floor with his hands clutching his ears, wishing for them to just shut up. Why don't they stop? It's driving him insane.
"Blaine, dinner's on the table. Your father and I will be home later."
He didn't jump at the knock. He expected it every night, since his parents were almost always away these days. He untangled himself and slowly stood up, wiping the tears from his face, leaving red marks. He waited until he heard the garage door close and he made his way downstairs to the kitchen. It was leftover pasta from the other night.
They don't even care to make a fresh meal for their darling boy.
He pulled the chair out and sat down, fiddling the fork in his hand. He watched as the pasta curled around the spikes and then fall back down into the bowl. Blaine pushed away from the table, the bowl in his hand. He put the pasta in the sink, pushing it down the drain and turned on the disposal until he heard no more crushing and turned it off. All of a sudden there was a knock at the door. That made him jump.
He walked to the front door, opening it slightly and peered from behind the corner. It was Marley with a big smile on her face, holding a pile of dvd cases.
"Marley, what are you doing here?"
"It's movie night, remember? Did you forget? Or did I mess up my days, because I do that sometimes and if I did then I'm really sor—"
Right. Movie night. How could he forget?
"It's fine, Marley. Come in."
***
They were sitting on the couch in the basement, a copy of "Wall-e" being the only light in the room. They never really watched the movies on movie night. When they did they always added commentary or something like that. Most of the time they just talked while eating a bowl (sometimes two) of popcorn. They never got the occasion to talk during school.
"So, how's Jake?"
"He's good. He's still on edge about the whole Ryder thing."
"Still?"
"Yeah. He's starting to forgive him, but it's taking a really long time."
"I see."
"Mhm. So, how's Kurt?" She talked with a mouthful of popcorn.
He hates you. He'll never trust you again and you'll never get back together.
"He's fine. He's happy at NYADA, even if he thinks his teachers are, and I quote, 'washed up bitches who failed their chance on Broadway so now they teach wannabe stars.' He's doing well."
He hasn't talked to you in two weeks. He doesn't like you. He's moved on with a new life that doesn't have you in it.
"Sounds like he's having a blast." She giggled.
"Yeah." He smiled. "I'll be right back."
He pushed himself off of the couch, and walked upstairs, locking himself in the bathroom. He couldn't breath. It was amazing how he was able to hide it, but that's what acting was. Acting pulled him through. All he had to do was put on a smiling face and a strong bravado, and he was set. Until he got home. Home was the place where he could shatter and let every tear spill. He couldn't do that at school.
Blaine opened the cabinet below the sink, searching for a hidden latch with his hand. He didn't know why the sink came with it, but he never questioned it either. He pulled out a small blue box and held it in his hand for a moment.
There was a flash, and pretty soon red droplets were forming on olive skin. There was a moment of silence, and then a release.
See. That wasn't hard. Now all you are and ever will be is a worthless boy with scars.
The blade reached his skin again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again ... and then nothing.
***
Sometimes I wish for falling, wish for the release
Wish for falling through the air to give me some relief
Because falling's not the problem, when I'm falling I'm at peace
It's only when I hit the ground it causes all the grief
You have no talent.
No one likes you. They only pretend to. They only care about themselves.
You're worthless.
Why not just end it all right now. It would be better for everyone.
Voices. So many voices. They never stop; they just kept on pulling him down into this deep pit of depression. Sometimes he could keep them at bay, at a minimum. Not recently though. They just kept on getting louder and louder and louder. They got so loud that he ended up on his bedroom floor with his hands clutching his ears, wishing for them to just shut up. Why don't they stop? It's driving him insane.
"Blaine, dinner's on the table. Your father and I will be home later."
He didn't jump at the knock. He expected it every night, since his parents were almost always away these days. He untangled himself and slowly stood up, wiping the tears from his face, leaving red marks. He waited until he heard the garage door close and he made his way downstairs to the kitchen. It was leftover pasta from the other night.
They don't even care to make a fresh meal for their darling boy.
He pulled the chair out and sat down, fiddling the fork in his hand. He watched as the pasta curled around the spikes and then fall back down into the bowl. Blaine pushed away from the table, the bowl in his hand. He put the pasta in the sink, pushing it down the drain and turned on the disposal until he heard no more crushing and turned it off. All of a sudden there was a knock at the door. That made him jump.
He walked to the front door, opening it slightly and peered from behind the corner. It was Marley with a big smile on her face, holding a pile of dvd cases.
"Marley, what are you doing here?"
"It's movie night, remember? Did you forget? Or did I mess up my days, because I do that sometimes and if I did then I'm really sor—"
Right. Movie night. How could he forget?
"It's fine, Marley. Come in."
***
They were sitting on the couch in the basement, a copy of "Wall-e" being the only light in the room. They never really watched the movies on movie night. When they did they always added commentary or something like that. Most of the time they just talked while eating a bowl (sometimes two) of popcorn. They never got the occasion to talk during school.
"So, how's Jake?"
"He's good. He's still on edge about the whole Ryder thing."
"Still?"
"Yeah. He's starting to forgive him, but it's taking a really long time."
"I see."
"Mhm. So, how's Kurt?" She talked with a mouthful of popcorn.
He hates you. He'll never trust you again and you'll never get back together.
"He's fine. He's happy at NYADA, even if he thinks his teachers are, and I quote, 'washed up bitches who failed their chance on Broadway so now they teach wannabe stars.' He's doing well."
He hasn't talked to you in two weeks. He doesn't like you. He's moved on with a new life that doesn't have you in it.
"Sounds like he's having a blast." She giggled.
"Yeah." He smiled. "I'll be right back."
He pushed himself off of the couch, and walked upstairs, locking himself in the bathroom. He couldn't breath. It was amazing how he was able to hide it, but that's what acting was. Acting pulled him through. All he had to do was put on a smiling face and a strong bravado, and he was set. Until he got home. Home was the place where he could shatter and let every tear spill. He couldn't do that at school.
Blaine opened the cabinet below the sink, searching for a hidden latch with his hand. He didn't know why the sink came with it, but he never questioned it either. He pulled out a small blue box and held it in his hand for a moment.
There was a flash, and pretty soon red droplets were forming on olive skin. There was a moment of silence, and then a release.
See. That wasn't hard. Now all you are and ever will be is a worthless boy with scars.
The blade reached his skin again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again ... and then nothing.
Sometimes I wish for falling, wish for the release
Wish for falling through the air to give me some relief
Because falling's not the problem, when I'm falling I'm at peace
It's only when I hit the ground it causes all the grief