Tw: Intrusive Thoughts/Self Harm/Suicide/Alcoholism
Reader Discretion Advised
(Note: This chapter is INCREDIBLY heavy. It deals with these issues a lot, and it's all very on the nose. If you ever feel like this, please reach out for help. This is a work of fiction, and I do not support the romanticization of these issues at all.)
~~~
Gabriel must have been gone in the morning, to Grim's relief. He'd have to apologize on Monday, but he didn't mind as long as he could put it off.
He did, however, have a slew of text messages from him.
Gabe 🌝
Are you okay
Ik ur probably
not gonna read
this but if you
do I love you
Please take care
of yourself
Im fine
Love you too
I wonder if he left before...
Grim sighed and turned off his phone. He didn't want to deal with anyone at the moment, not even Gabriel.
I owe it to him. Guilt panged at him. I was awful to him last night.
The memories of the fight were vivid in his mind.
"Why are you doing this to me?"
"Because you'll feel guilty if you break our promise."
"That's stupid."
"It's what's gonna keep you from doing shit to yourself."
"Go the fuck home, Gabriel!"
"No."
He was just trying to help me. God, why am I so stupid?
He rubbed his face and immediately regretted it, the fresh cracks stinging him. He winced.
Putting his phone on the floor and shaking himself to reality, he tried to gauge his surroundings.
He was laying on the floor. The hoodie he had worn the day before was crumpled up by his head. He sat up, and his head throbbed.
The room blurred in and out for a moment. When it came back in focus, Grim looked to his feet.
The box cutter was still open, probably due to drunk Grim's utter foolishness, and the vodka was all gone.
Jesus fucking Christ- all of it? How much was left when I drank it? He scoured his memory. He remembered taking swigs, here and there: one before work on Thursday and one before the party on Friday. He washed down his Xanax with it before roller skating, which probably wasn't the best choice, but Grim didn't break down as soon as they stepped through the door, so he supposed it did the job.
Although he didn't know exactly how much he drank, he did know that he felt like absolute shit.
So, after wallowing in self-pity for a bit, he finally got up. He pulled his hoodie over his head and stretched. His bones were screaming for help.
First priority, Liquid IV. Second, painkillers.
He then realized Immy was probably up, or would be soon.
First priority, Immy. Second, cover story.
Gabriel and I got shitty drunk and played rummy. Bam, problem solved. Cover story formed, now to check on Immy and execute.
He laughed at himself.
Bad word choice- enact.
He walked out of his room and up to Immy's.
He knocked twice on the door. When he got no answer, he opened it, attempting not to let it creak. He failed.
Immy stirred a little in her sleep, mumbling something.
"I don't have school today, Mom..." She turned over.
Grim smiled, but couldn't help but feel a little sad. Immy wasn't going to see her mom again, was she?
He knew that was the fact of the matter from the start, and Immy handled it well. If it was still hurting her, Grim couldn't tell. He'd talk to her about it later.
The door creaked back closed, and Grim went back downstairs, to the kitchen.
The next priority on Grim's imaginary list was Liquid IV. His infamous hangover cure of choice. While he preferred grape, Grim bought the orange flavor prior to Immy's birthday, since she despised grape flavored things.
He dug through the top of the pantry, coming up with nothing. He sighed and scanned the counter. Then, the island. Then, the table.
Grim groaned. He knew he went through that shit like a madman, but he'd only bought that box a week ago.
He accepted his terrible fate.
Hair of the dog. Am I really stooping this low?
He was, in fact, stooping that low.
Well, if he was going to do such a shameful thing, he might as well do it with class.
Grim really enjoyed making cocktails. He was decent at it, too- Gabriel asked for one, every once in a while. Usually a Cosmopolitan, since Grim had good vodka, and Gabriel liked fruity drinks. He had a couple of ideas of what to make Immy, when he could.
His expertise came in handy.
Soul Reviver No. 2. Grim smiled a little. Hell yes!
Maybe today won't be so bad after all. I can talk to Gabriel. Apologize.
He's still gonna want me to see someone.
He'll drop it, I'm sure.
No, he won't. He cares about me too much.
He's so amazing to me. What did I do to deserve him?
Nothing. Fucking nothing. I don't deserve his kindness. Or his friendship, for that matter.
Grim tried to shake his thoughts from him as he made the cocktail.
He inhaled.
It'll be okay. I'm not panicking again. I can't.
He exhaled.
He looked up from the island to see Immy, standing in the doorway.
"Morning, sunshine!" Grim called, hoping he could fake pep until he had some. "How are you feeling? Morphine worn off yet?"
Immy opened her mouth and closed it again, looking at the ground.
Grim narrowed his eyes.
"What is it?" He asked, walking over to her. She was quivering slightly. She glanced behind him, to the cocktail.
Oh no. She's worried, of course- a cocktail at nine AM seems really... Alcoholic-y? I don't know.
"Soul reviver," He explained. Execute. "Me and Gabriel got drunk off our asses playing rummy last night."
Surprisingly, that was what broke her.
A sob shook through her, startling Grim.
"Shit," She whimpered. "Sorry, I really didn't want to-"
"-Shh. What's going on?"
She sniffed and laughed coldly.
"You're lying," She uttered. "Gabriel texted me this morning."
Grim's heart dropped to the floor.
I was awful. Gabriel told her. She hates me.
"Grim..."
He braced himself, expecting the worst. How could you treat your best friend like that? How could you yell at him? He was only worried about you.
She was going to leave him. Go find someone better to spend the short rest of her life with. Go somewhere she couldn't get reaped so easily.
"Are you suicidal?" She cried.
Grim's train of thought broke, replaced by confusion. He laughed.
"That's what you're worried about?"
"Gabriel told me you spiraled last night and said some very..." She trailed off.
"Awful things? Yes, I did. I'm so fu-"
"No. Unhealthy things. Things like you're stuck. Things like you put people in danger being alive." She paused a moment. "Things like you wished you could reap yourself."
Grim gaped at her.
"...But I do put people in danger," He breathed. "I put you in danger, Gabriel, Axel-"
"-Grim."
"I put my dad in danger."
"...Shut up," Immy sobbed.
"I'm putting you in danger. And frankly, I don't deserve to be around any of you."
"You deserve fucking everything."
Grim didn't know how tense he had been until all his bones relaxed. His shoulders dropped and he felt like goo in her arms.
"If it helps," Immy whispered. "I think you deserve the world."
"No, I really don't."
"Yes, you do. Wanna know what you don't deserve? The hell you put yourself through."
Grim grimaced at her comment.
"Me and Gabriel have other worries, too," She sniffed. "We've known you're an alcoholic for ages... but other... small habits are adding up. You take extra meds regularly. You call yourself stupid. You force yourself to act normal when you feel like shit."
"Are you done?"
"Not quite. This one's got barely any proof, but Gabriel thinks it too."
Starting to wonder who's side he's on.
"Shoot."
"You seem to be in pain a lot. Like- not headaches, or hangovers- I don't know. Not even an ache. I didn't think about it much until Gabriel told me about his... promise."
Grim groaned.
"Immy."
"You know what I'm asking about. Answer."
Grim couldn't.
Immy huffed.
"You need to tell me things!"
She punctuated her sentence by jabbing him in the chest.
Grim hissed in pain, the fresh cuts stinging in protest. His reaction must've been incredibly telling, because Immy's face turned from frustration to horror.
"I'm sorry, I didn't-" She cut herself off, seeing the tears well in Grim's eyes. Her own eyes did the same.
She stepped closer and buried her face in Grim's shoulder.
"Grim," She sobbed.
As soon as Grim was sure his voice wouldn't crack, he spoke.
"Yes, Immy." He answered in a low voice. "I cut myself."
He broke down again as soon as he finished the words, tears rolling down his face and onto Immy's shoulder.
"Takes a bit of effort, actually," He laughed in spite of himself.
That comment was not well received, judging by Immy's muffled sobs growing more hysterical. She tightened her arms around him.
When she slowed down and pulled away, she asked him a question.
"Where do you keep your spare gloves?"
Grim nodded to his work robe hanging on the coat rack by the door. She went to it and rummaged through the pockets.
She pulled on a glove, although it definitely didn't fit her, and walked back to him. He put his arms around her as carefully as he could, resting his hands on her hips. Gazing in her eyes, he wondered if somehow, someway, they could ever accept this for something more than a close friendship.
Friends don't act like this. Friends don't hold each other in this way.
Immy shakily placed her hand on his face.
It fluttered across his features, eventually resting gently on the left side of his face.
Kiss me, A selfish part of him cried. Kiss me, kiss me, kiss me!
She'll get hurt, Another part objected. I love her. Too much to ever do that to her.
She knows. This is awful. No one was ever supposed to find out. Now she'll hide the knives-
Who cares about the knives? She's worried sick!
I'm an awful fucking person.
I'll still have the box cutter. Old reliable.
What the fuck.
The parts of his mind warred with each other.
She swiped her thumb back and forth, slowly. Grim relished her touch, his phantom heart fluttering.
"I need you to tell me these things," She rephrased her previous statement, softer this time. "How long?"
"Since my dad died."
A pit grew in his stomach.
Grim laid on the cold floor of a bathroom at HQ, shrieking again. He wasn't sure how soundproof the walls were. He didn't care.
His face was on fire. His throat was on fire. His eyes were on fire. He was burning alive.
Xen had tried to shake him out of it.
He wasn't going to be arrested. He wasn't an awful person. He wasn't going to feel this way forever. He wasn't going to be executed.
Or rather, he couldn't be executed.
He begged them for execution. A life for a life, wasn't that fair?
Of course, that's not how divinity works.
Grim didn't deserve to be divine. Being divinely immortal was not what he wanted.
Right now, he wanted to die. To swap places with his father. To be the one who had just been sucked up by a vacuum outside. To pay for his horrific actions.
Maybe they could toss him into the lowest level of purgatory. The eternal winter.
Grim knew Xen wouldn't. They would toss him into a psych ward, maybe. But never purgatory. He could only wish.
He hated himself.
Still in hysterics, he pulled a pocket knife off of his belt.
"It's not a habit," He sighed. "But it almost became one in 2027."
Immy sniffed.
"I'm so sorry," She uttered.
"Why?" Grim responded, the words startling him.
"You lost everything all at once," She stated. "That's horrible."
"No need to apologize. You weren't the one who killed someone."
"Grim." She sighed and put her head back on his shoulder. "You constantly put yourself down. That's at least a little bit of the problem."
"I'll be okay. It's not like I could do anything about any of it, anyway."
"Okay Grim, I get it! You can't die! That's not a concern. You do awful fucking shit to yourself- and pretend it's no big deal!"
The pit in his stomach expanded with every word.
"I'm here, aren't I?"
"Yes."
"Then it's fine."
Immy pulled off of his shoulder and gawked at him.
"What the fuck? No!"
Grim sighed.
"Why do you think that's the only problem? Your mental state is suffering!"
"I know it is."
"You don't care?"
"I-" Grim thought for a moment. "I don't know. But I do know that you shouldn't."
Her tears started falling again.
"What the fuck," Immy sobbed.
"Don't cry, please! Seriously-"
"Stop trying to make this sound better than it is."
Grim decided to stop talking. Immy didn't say anything else either. Silent sobs shook her.
He slowly pulled her closer.
They stood there, arms wrapped around each other, for what was probably a much longer time than it felt like.
Grim refused to be the one to let go first.
She let go eventually.
"I need to do laundry," She mumbled, taking Grim's glove off and wiping her eyes with her hands. She handed him the gloves.
"I'll do it," He insisted. "You're in no condition to carry things."
"But-"
"-Nope."
Immy huffed.
"You know I'm right," Grim proclaimed. "And you need rest."
"I got plenty of that last night."
"Take a little break from doing things, I mean. A lot has happened."
"Pff. You're one to talk about taking breaks."
"Tch. Go read that smutty romance novel you like so much."
Immy scoffed.
"Low blow, skelebitch."
Grim gasped.
"I haven't heard that name in years," He laughed. "Seriously, let me do it."
"Fine," Immy sighed. "Remember that you're also injured, apparently. Be careful."
"Of course. I was more worried about you falling down the stairs, I don't think it would be very hard-"
A look flashed across Immy's face, something he couldn't recognize. It went away, leaving her all smiles again.
"Shut up," She laughed. "C'mon."
She dragged him upstairs.
***
As much as Grim loved Immy, he also really needed time alone. Doing laundry, he supposed, was the perfect way he could sit and think.
The washer and dryer sat at the end of the downstairs hallway. Opposite them, sitting on the floor, Grim was trying to banish the sick feeling in his stomach.
He was telling himself it was fine. It was okay if she knew. It was better to be open and honest with her as much as he could, since he was keeping other things in the dark.
Still, his less rational mind took over.
She's worried about me. I don't deserve her worry. She'll ask again. I'll have to lie. What if she makes me prove it? I've got two ways out, there- I can say it's dangerous, but we're in the void, so that might bring up some questions- or I can admit that you can see straight through my pelvis. Neither of those things are lying, but the actual answer to the question would have to be a lie. What kind of person am I? Able to unflinchingly lie to people. Willing to lie to the most lovely person I've ever met. I hate this. I hate myself. I don't know what to do anymore.
He almost dragged himself to the kitchen. Instead, he remained on the floor, unmoving. His vision blurred in and out.
Is there any way out of this? Any way I could possibly just disappear? No. He remembered. I'm divinely immortal. 'The greatest blessing in the multiverse!' Great blessing, my ass.
There were very few people who were divine. Heads of universes, assigned reapers for those universes, their children, and he thought he heard somewhere that revived beings were divine, but he couldn't remember why. Something about purity? I don't know. Of course, to be divine, you hold some position of power, whatever power that may be, mental or magical. Leadership, reaping- purity? Still can't figure that shit out- but he didn't think anyone actually liked being divine. It was just something they pretended to do. Gotta keep appearances up.
It didn't make much sense, Grim knew, to hate it so much. Divinity wasn't much different from normal immortality. Maybe it was the feeling of being truly trapped that set him off so much. When Grim was in school, death seemed impossible. After all, what were the chances of getting reaped? If you're not a horrible person who's committed multiple atrocities, it simply wouldn't happen. He thought accidents barely happened. He believed reapers could control their ability.
The curse.
It was all very far away, then. Occasionally he'd make an offhand comment about wanting to sleep forever. He hadn't recognized the feeling.
Now, he was very familiar with the longing. Wanting the dark to swallow you whole. With your body. With your mind. People pushed it off as teen angst. His friends would laugh and agree. His dad would frown and ask if he took his meds yet.
Nobody really cared. It wasn't like he could kill himself. His dad got concerned more than anyone else, and Grim thought that was because of his time spent around mortals. Also, mental illness ran in the family. It was almost comforting to think that his dad might've felt the same as he did.
History repeats itself and amps up the stakes. He laughed in spite of himself. Hell yes, it does.
He knew that he wouldn't be able to function after Immy died. Unlike his Dad, who was able to keep moving forward and take care of his son- with some difficulty, mind you- Grim wouldn't have something to get him up in the morning.
God forbid he killed her.
He could barely fathom her death as it was. He wouldn't know what to do with himself after. However, Grim's previous 'plan' of burning his house down and running off was just going to make things so much worse. He knew Gabriel would help him learn to cope with her absence.
The plan was now reserved for the worst-case scenario.
He was dangerous to everyone he loved, and that would not only prove it, but drive Grim to the extremes. Running away may have been the coward's way out, but he couldn't be around people if that were to happen. Remember Tenebris. He told himself. His story is remarkably similar to mine. Don't repeat his mistakes.
He'd like to meet him someday. Say he understood, even if it seemed like nobody did.
Of course, the psych ward isn't letting him out for a while yet. I guess I've got eternity.
Grim hated that he had eternity.
He most certainly didn't deserve it.
Well, maybe not in the divine sense. It's torture. My own personal hell.
Grim hugged his knees to his chest.
I deserve this more than anybody.
That was what finally broke him. A sob ripped through his lungs.
It's probably not even enough. I deserve worse. I don't deserve the happy moments. I don't deserve Immy's jokes. I don't deserve Gabriel's care. I don't deserve any of it. I deserve to burn.
He grew nauseous as he stood, intent on grabbing the box cutter from his room.
Thoughts creeped up on him. Stay. Go. Hit your head on the wall. Break your hand. Something.
He froze.
I can't worry her. His rational mind argued. I love her.
She'll get over it when she realizes you're a monster.
She could die any day now.
All the more reason.
I don't want her to spend her last days worried sick over me.
You deserve hellfire. Punch the wall.
No.
He wrapped his arms around himself and gripped the arms of his hoodie.
Do it.
The thoughts became more and more tempting.
You deserve it.
I deserve it. I'm a horrible fucking being. I killed my father. I yell at my best friend. I lie constantly. I endanger the people who care about me.
His eyes fixed on the bottle of detergent sitting on top of the washing machine. He barely knew what he was doing.
It's never enough. Nothing can put me through enough.
Do it.
He took the bottle and twisted the cap off.
He swigged.
His body acted almost like it was instinct. He couldn't stop.
What the fuck am I doing?
Almost immediately, he dropped the jug and stumbled back.
What the fuck am I doing?
He dragged himself to the bathroom and splashed cold water on his face.
Stumbling away from the sink, his chest burned.
He kneeled over the toilet and vomited.
"Grim?" He heard Immy call. Her voice grew closer. "I heard a- Oh my god."
Grim sobbed violently.
"What happened?" She panicked. "What do you need?"
Grim opened his mouth to ask for water, but snapped it shut.
I made her worried.
"Grim! Please, answer me," She begged, kneeling beside him and placing a hand on his back.
"Don't-"
He hurled again.
Immy pulled her hand away. "I'm sorry. I'll be back." She jumped up and left the room.
Grim's vision distorted as it filled with static. His bones felt scorching hot.
His body gave out, and he collapsed to the tile. He saw Immy walk in right before he blacked out.
Grim shut the bathroom door behind him and locked it.
Everyone had seen him walk out. He didn't care. He just couldn't stand to be there, in that room, with all of those people who were scared of him.
It was probably a bad thing to hide in the bathroom during your father's funeral, but Grim had done much, much worse.
The bathroom was relatively small, with a large blur-glass window on its left side. It had a big window sill, due to how thick the walls were.
He hoisted himself up onto the ledge and pressed his face against the cold glass.
Someone knocked.
"...Who is it?" Grim murmured.
"Someone who stole wine from the 'refreshments' table. Let me in, man."
Grim cracked a smile at the familiar voice.
"Just pull up on the door handle, Gabriel. It's a shitty lock."
"I don't wanna break it..." The door clicked open. "Oh, wow. They should replace that, I think."
"You coming in, or what?"
"Yeah, yeah. Sorry."
Gabriel walked in and shut the door. He held out a small plastic cup to Grim, who cautiously took it, still unsure of whether or not his gloves actually didn't have holes. They weren't supposed to, but Grim wasn't taking any chances.
Gabriel went to the other side of the window and pulled himself up. He crossed his legs and faced Grim.
"You have to share. I'm not going to get more."
Grim nodded and took a sip. He scrunched up his face.
"This is the nastiest ass Cabernet I've ever tasted," He chuckled, rubbing his eyes.
"How many Cabernet-s have you tasted?"
"Only this one. It's just that bad."
Gabriel smiled as Grim took another drink.
"If it's that bad, why are you still drinking it?"
"It serves a purpose."
"That is?"
"Giving me the balls to go back out there and face the weepers." He passed him the cup.
"Ah," Gabriel sighed. "I'm sure it's scary."
"Fucking terrifying," Grim explained.
Gabriel took a sip.
"Oh my god, you're right," He exclaimed. "You can have it, this is gross-"
"Told you." He took back the cup and choked down some more.
"Bleh."
They sat in silence for a bit.
"...Grim?"
"Yeah?"
"How are you feeling?" He asked. "Don't give me some bullshit answer."
Grim itched his face.
"...Obviously not well," He muttered. "Like I lost my dad, committed a murder, and made multiversal news all at once. Oh, wait."
Gabriel sighed.
"Look, I already have to talk about this shit with some random stranger every day, I can't deal with this," Grim grumbled. "And nothing you can say will make me 'better'. They've already tried."
"Okay, how about this:" Gabriel began. "I think you're amazing, and it sucks that all this shit happened. You're going to eat yourself from the inside for a while and feel like you're the worst person to walk the earth. That being said, it can get better. Only if you let it."
"Gabriel, I murdered him."
"It's not like you meant to, Grim. Even if it's your fault- and I don't believe it is- that doesn't mean you're an awful person. You fucked up, man, but anyone can tell that you're not evil."
"I'm a murderer," He wavered, his throat tightening.
"No, Grim."
"Murderer!" Grim choked.
The room went blinding bright.
"Grim!"
Gabriel's voice was drowned out by a whirring, scratching noise. It was screeching, or cracking-
Or screaming and sobbing.
Grim's throat ripped apart as he regained consciousness. He clawed at his face and shrieked again.
"Grim!" Immy was sobbing. "You're safe, it's okay, everything's alright-"
No. No, no no- it's never safe. It's never okay. Run away-
He could feel the cracking echo through his skull. Searing pain consumed him.
He shrieked again.
A ticking followed Grim as he wandered aimlessly around the black.
The clock had to be somewhere, he knew it. It was so loud, it had to be close.
Grim could hear another noise, far off. Weeping. It made his heart drop. At least she's not dead. He thought.
Suddenly, Immy's weeping paused. The ticking grew louder. Where's that goddamned clock?
"I'm so sorry," Immy called.
Grim whipped around, expecting her to be anywhere.
"That's horrible."
Grim huffed in frustration and attempted to open his mouth and ask for her. His jaw was glued shut.
"Awful."
Grim began running. He didn't know where to go, but the clock kept growing louder.
Immy was silent for a very long time, which didn't aid Grim in his search.
Am I running out of time? He desperately wondered.
As the silence kept going, Grim was afraid he found his answer.
No. No, no, no, no- NO, NO, NO-
A warm goo dripped down his skull. He touched it and pulled his hand away to look at the liquid.
Golden blood ran down his palm and soaked into his sleeve.
His breathing quickened. He looked up.
No.
Tick,
Tock.
Tick,
Tock.
~~~
SHAKING, CRYING, SCREAMING, THROWING UP
AAAAAAA
I WANNA WRITE DIVINE HORROR SO BADDD BUT IVE NEVER ACTUALLY READ HORROR BEFORE :((( GRIM'S NIGHTMARES ARE MORE LIKE NIGHTSADS.
BUT YEAH
BIG SAD
THIS IS PROBABLY THE ONE OF THE HEAVIEST CHAPTERS IM GONNA WRITE (besides *ahem* doom and gloom chapter), IF YOU MADE IT THIS FAR, CONGRATS!!!
Guys, I seriously want to cry. I hope you guys are just as upsetti spaghetti as I am over all these feelings.
I've gotta go hug my mom.
I love you all! I hope you all have someone to hug as well!
Suicide hotline: 988
Take care of yourselves :)
Alice/Craz <3