the darkness inside us ; multiship

thirteen

heavy trigger warning for self-harm in this chapter, along with depression, anxiety, suicidal thoughts, and abuse

"This is all my fault."

"No, it's mine."

"I'm his best friend."

"I'm his fuckin' roommate."

"Guys, stop. Seriously." Quinn shoots them all a glare. "This blame game isn't helping anyone. Mom's out looking for him now. All we can do is pray she finds him, because it's too early to call the cops."

"The fuck do you mean, too early? Isn't it their fucking job to find missing people?"

Missing people.

Alex's stomach constricts as the words keep repeating in his head.

Missingpeoplemissingpeoplemissingpeople.

Ashton is a missing person.

"Hey, you gotta breathe, okay? You can't have a panic attack right now." Jack's breath is warm against his ear. "You're okay. Everything's okay."

"It's not though," Alex shoots back. The lump in his throat is building. The tears are coming, no matter how hard he tries to stop them. He's talking through a sob, trying to breath through the wall of emotion building in his chest. "Nothing's okay. He's my roommate, Jack. My fucking roommate. I'm supposed to be lookin' out for him."

"You're right, you're his roommate, and you guys should look out for each other, but you're not his keeper, Lex," Jack replies. "It's not your job to know where he is at all times. It's not your job to take care of him. He's old enough to do that himself."

"I should've slept in my room," Alex whispers, and that breaks the barrier. The tears come, fast and furious, pouring down his cheeks. His chest hurts and his head is aching too. He wants to wake up. He wants this nightmare to be just that – a nightmare he can wake up from. Ashton's safe. He isn't partially responsible for his disappearance.

It's the straw that breaks the camel's back, the tip of the iceberg, the one thing to go wrong that sends his bottled up emotions flying. He knew putting everything into a little box at the back of his mind wouldn't bode well in the long run, but he wasn't interested in the future at the time.

He stands, dizzy and unsteady on his feet, and turns, ignoring Jack's calls for him. He can't be here right now. It's too much.

He can't stomach going into his room. All it is is a reminder of his failures, his wrongdoings, the things he's fucked up.

Ashton would be here if you weren't so selfish.

He locks the bathroom door and slides down with his back against it, bringing his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them.

The blade is buried in his skin before he even knows what's happening. It's his default. The only coping mechanism he knows. It's instinct, at this point.

He doesn't feel guilty. He knows Jack would be disappointed but he doesn't care. It's his fault Ashton's gone and he deserves this. He deserves to hurt, he deserves the pain.

Oh Alexander, you've been such a bad boy.

You have to learn, sweetheart.

Maybe I'll give you fifteen today. That'll teach you to be a fucking faggot.

Of all the sons we could've had, we had to get stuck with this disappointment. Oh Peter, is he even worth it anymore? He's only caused us misery.