The feeling of the toxic high spread down his chest, the heat reaching his lungs before being pushed back into the freezing cold night's air. The visible smoke floating free into the night sky, not even as much as a breeze to pick it up. The small cloud may not be seen anymore by the naked human eye, but it was finally free.
Each step that he took was another step into the grave. Subconsciously, the male brought out his phone every few seconds to check his messages. The bright screen lit up in the dark, flashing off of the metal fences on either side of the person. Tears pricked his eyes as he read the screen, praying that a text had been sent.
'Pls text me back, I miss u' Connie - 11:34pm
'Ily man answer my calls' Jean - 11:33pm
'Are you ok?? U no we love you, rite?' Sasha - 11:31pm
'Don't do it Floch, please' Eren - 11:30pm
The redhead blinked away his tears, bringing the lit cigarette back up to his lips. The screen was blank, there was not a single text from anyone. He inhaled sharply, ignoring the sudden burning sensation at the back of his throat. He held his breath for a second, praying that the nicotine alone would kill him. It didn't.
He thought about the others. His schoolmates. He liked to think of them as mates although, a lot of the time it didn't feel like that. He never really connected with anyone, he never felt like he had bonds with anyone. He didn't have those real, pure, raw, deep moments with anyone, where he'd look into their eyes and feel the will to be alive. To feel like they wanted him here, as if he was floating off and that stare and that smile was the long arms pulling him back to the ground. Floch wanted to feel like that, instead he just kept floating.
Floch didn't know if he believed in love, but he guessed that's what it was called when that feeling occurred. The feeling of belonging, that deep affection where he just felt wanted and cared for and valued. The idea that someone valued Floch was unbelievable to him now, he truly believed that if he died then people wouldn't care. They might pretend to care, cry for the sake of crying and make a drama out of it. But they wouldn't really care, not a piece of them would be missing.
Thinking why he was never significant, Floch took another sharp draw of the toxic stick in his hand. It was almost done, but he didn't care as the filter got hotter in between his index and middle finger. Whatever he did, he would never matter. He'd never have a purpose, not in some shitty high school in a shitty village in a shitty part of Britain. He could be good, he did try be kind but it didn't work. He assumed he just wasn't a likeable person, so he turned sour. He was an asshole, to anyone and everyone he came across.
Did that work either? Of course not. He wasn't even majorly disliked by the group of people he called his friends, he was just an annoying bug that they couldn't get rid of. Not even a parasite, he couldn't hurt them. Just an annoying cockroach who scampered around, going from place to place. Never staying, never being at home.
No matter what he did for Eren Jaeger, he didn't think the other teen even liked him. He'd do whatever Eren said, he was so intelligent and smart and just knew what to do in every situation. Even if it wasn't the easy thing to do, Floch believed it'd be the right thing. Like when they snuck into the high school of Eren's rival football team, and spray painted everywhere. People got angry, yes, but the redhead wholeheartedly supported it. They started the rivalry, he just wanted to end it. No one else stood up for the school, except Eren.
Then there was Hitch. They were in the same classes, but she was much smarter than he was. It angered Floch, even though he didn't care about his studies. He just believed she was smug about it, and often tried to knock her down a couple pegs. He was only named an asshole though, then was tossed to the side like a forgotten toy when a child is brought an iPad.
Lastly, there was Jean. No matter what Floch did, he seemed to always be there anyway. He didn't think Jean Kirstein agreed with most of the things he did, but the tall blond had still spoke to him and ate lunch with him. He didn't know if they were considered friends, he didn't think so right now anyway. He was doubting everything, every smile he had been given and every time someone had been slightly nice to him. It was probably all in his head. He was probably just a shittier, downgraded replacement for Marco Bodt.
A small light caught the redhead's eye, it was in the distance. He knew exactly what it was, he had been anticipating it. He took out his phone, a tear falling that he had no more text messages, and went to his music app. That last look at his phone was his last chance of living, giving life one more chance to see if someone had messaged.
Plugging in his earphones to drown the screams of any poor, lost voices in his head telling him this was a bad idea, Floch trudged across the tracks, flicking what was only a burnt out filter from his fingers. A song by 'Remo Drive' blasted in his ears, making him flinch when it scared his ears. It pushed back any thoughts of doubt, so all he could hear was the depressing music and all he could see was that large light becoming closer. Who cared if he died?? His parents fucking hated him. His friends fucking hated him. No one in this God-forsaken world gave a fucking damn about Floch Forster.
He closed his eyes, tears still spilling out the sides as he smiled despairingly, which then turned into sad laughs. Laughing at what a cruel world it was, laughing at how he'd amount to nothing. Laughing at how this is it, he fucked up the only life he would ever get. The light was getting closer, he felt it flash on his face. He felt the vibrations getting closer, his heart speeding up. He didn't hear the bell of the train ring desperately, or the sound of the fence rattling.
Holding his breath, he waited for the impact. He thought he'd been hit harder by the weight of the world before anyway, what difference would this be? It'd be like any other day, except it was the last.
He felt a hard pressure on his body, but it wasn't the train. All he felt was a strong force in his right side, then his back colliding with a cold piece of metal. It was the fence.
As he opened his eyes, a harsh slap was felt burn the side of his face. Floch's eyes widened in shock, the earphones falling from his head. He was unable to get a word out, he was standing face to face with his lunch buddy. The one who wasn't supposed to care about him, the one who was supposed to use him as a shitty replacement for his old friend. His old, dead friend.
It seems he didn't have to get any words out, anyway. Two lean arms wrapped around him tightly, pulling him down from the sky that he had been floating into. His face collided with a shoulder, in which he automatically melted into. As the train rushed by them, only inches away from their body, Floch continued to sob into the other's jacket. He clutched onto the other teen tightly, as if he let go then he'd be lost again.
No one spoke minutes after the train had dashed past. The redhead had never been held like this before, there was no way he was pulling apart this quick. He didn't care about the slap, all he could focus on was the warm body pressed against his and holding him tightly. The body who had protected him from the train, squeezing him tightly as the train had passed both. Floch's sorrowful sobs turned into quiet heaves, but he still didn't let go of the other. He tilted his head up slightly though, too devastated to be embarrassed on how he was being seen crying. "H-How did you know?" Was all he was able to breathe out, his hands and knees shaking from what could've happened.
The other male wasn't in a happier state, either. He was clearly out of breath, as he was panting and his chest was rising and falling. He looked terrified, never mind seeing a ghost he looked as if he'd stared at the Devil himself, some of his hair stuck to his face from sweat and he was shaking badly too.
"Your location." The blond panted out through heavy breaths, pointing to Floch's pocket. Floch remembered how he had set his location on with Jean, it was a time when Floch had found a calm place to each lunch in a nearby park. Jean couldn't understand Floch's terrible navigation instructions, so instead he had asked to get his location. Neither had turned it off ever since.
Grabbing his hand, Jean began leading the other male out from the train tracks. It was illegal after all, the last thing he wanted was a run from the police. He was sure the train conductor would've called after the fright they must of endured, seeing a teenage boy on the tracks. "C'mon, let's get out of here." He commanded. And Floch followed.
They had walked to the nearby park in silence, where Floch joined him for lunch each day. They'd bring rolls and sandwiches and wraps. Floch needed that time throughout the day to relax. He needed that time now, too. He sat on the picnic table which was in part of the woods, hidden from sight. That's why he had to navigate Jean to find it when he first discovered it. After what Jean had witnessed, getting jumped at the late of night in the woods wasn't what he was worried about.
After sitting down and exchanging a couple 'are you okay?'s, Jean finally brought up the situation. "What were you thinking?" He asked sadly, moving from his seat on the bench to Floch's one, so rather sitting across from him he was next to him. "Why would you... you should've texted me." Jean knew neither of them ever spoke about something like this, not about mental health or how they were ever truly feeling.
"It's just- hard to put into words." Floch muttered out reluctantly, he had never been one for talking. He rested his head on the table, on top of crossed arms to pillow him. "Just felt I didn't want to be here... that I didn't matter to anyone or anything." He added, closing his eyes so he wouldn't have to see any negative reaction from Jean. It felt embarrassing, putting himself out in the open like this. The true him.
He felt a hand upon his shoulder, he didn't need to look up to know who's it was. "I know I haven't said it, but I care about you man." The blond replied seriously, no hint of awkwardness or reluctance in his voice. "Really, I'm not just saying that cause of what happened tonight. I wouldn't be who I am without you, even though you bring the asshole-side of me out." He teased slightly at the end, his hand squeezing Floch's shoulder. "I guess I never said this cause I didn't know you needed to hear it."
It was hard to believe, but Floch wanted to so badly. He wanted to be that tobacco, to be taken by someone and set out in the open. He didn't want to be trapped in his mind, caged by the ideas that he didn't matter. He wanted to be like the smoke being exhaled from a pair of lungs, set into the sky to be free and happy.
He smiled a little, turning his head to glance at Jean. Maybe he was already dead. Maybe there was no point into trying to form a relationship with the other. Maybe he'd just be deceived and tossed out like trash. But he felt he was having a moment, like the ones he'd fantasise about where he was truly vulnerable and open and so was the other person. They'd just stare into each other's eyes, wanting to take the best out of each other and grow that. To nurture that.
Perhaps in the end this all wouldn't of been worth it. Perhaps it'd of been better if Jean didn't turn up at all. But now Floch had a chance, maybe a chance to love and care and be loved and be cared for. And he sure as fuck wanted to try it.