Tw: Suicide/Referenced Self Harm/Referenced Alcoholism
Reader Discretion Advised
~~~
Grim couldn't remember when he woke up. It seemed like a long time ago, but he couldn't manage to form coherent thought yet. His head was pounding.
He stared at the tile of the bathroom floor, wishing he could slip back into a dreamless sleep. He had woken up and passed out several times, and it wasn't helping his confusion.
The air felt hot and humid, probably just due to Grim's fever. Could skeletons get fevers? He didn't know.
Sighing, he glanced to the clock. 4:28. Okay, I wasn't out for that long.
He glanced down and gasped in a breath. Glued to his side, Immy was out like a light. Her arms were wrapped around his waist, her face pressed into his arm. Her chest rose and fell steadily.
Grim exhaled, relieved. She's okay. It's alright.
Moving wasn't as appealing anymore.
Should I wake her up? He wondered. She had to have been worried.
Guilt clawed at his mind.
Dammit.
"Hey," He whispered, his voice hoarse. "...Immy."
"Mmm..." She murmured. "What?"
He reconsidered, hearing her faint, contented voice.
"...Wake up."
"Is it Monday?"
"It's Sunday, and I'm not one of your parents."
That was what finally got her. She gasped and pulled away, rubbing her eyes.
"Grim! You're finally awake- I almost thought immortals could die, there for a minute," She sighed. "What happened? I already called you out of work, don't worry."
Grim startled at her sudden energy.
"I can totally still go to work, I've got time."
"Wait- did you say it was Sunday?"
"Yes...? It's only four."
"In the morning, Grim."
"...I was out all day?"
"Yeah! I mean, if it's four now, It's been, like- nineteen hours."
"What?"
"Mhm. Leads me to my next question: What the hell happened? Alcohol poisoning? Food poisoning? It's gotta be something poisoning, because blacking out, foaming at the mouth, and occasional screaming are not symptoms of a stomach bug," She rambled. "Trust me, I looked it up. Like, a million times."
"Jesus Christ."
"I know! Please, answer me!"
Grim sighed.
"Well, the screaming was because of the nightmares and- uh, cracking," He explained. How the fuck do I explain drinking Purex? "Can we just say it was poisoning?"
Immy's face dropped.
"You did it on purpose," She stated.
"Eh-" Grim's voice trembled. "More or less."
"And that's why the laundry detergent is on the ground."
Grim didn't respond.
"...Was it planned?"
"No. I just..." He trailed off. "I'm sorry." His voice broke. Tears jerked at his eyes.
"Pull your hood up."
He did as she asked, shaking.
Immy wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pulled him into a hug. Her head rested on top of his.
The tears fell.
He weeped in her arms like a child would. Neither of them spoke a word, but it felt like so much was said. Raw emotion was exchanged between the two.
She ran her hand up and down his back, comforting, calm.
Much more comforting than he deserved.
"Immy-"
She shushed him.
"-You don't have to deal with me. You've taken care of me enough in the last nineteen- no, actually. Three years," He continued.
"I want to."
"Why?"
"...Because I love you," She murmured, the words honey on her tongue.
"You shouldn't."
"Shh."
Grim exhaled and buried his face in her shoulder.
"I love you too," He whispered.
"I know." She placed her hand on his hooded head. "...I know we just had this talk, but this is-."
"-I'm sorry."
"No. Stop."
"That's how I feel."
"I think you should go back to a therapist."
Grim grimaced.
"No. Gabriel already tried to convince me, not you too."
"I know that last time you went it just made everything much worse, but-"
"-What?"
"You came back from a therapist appointment out in the void, screaming, and sobbing. Remember? I had cabin fever, so I was on the porch. Only reason I found you was because you were screaming so fucking loud."
Oh.
Grim's heart dropped.
Axel. The allseer appointment.
I lied.
"Oh."
It's for the best, right? I can't just tell her.
"Yeah. That wasn't normal- I think it'd help so much."
Grim shook his head.
"...Okay, fine- what's actually stopping you from going?"
He froze.
"What?" He asked her.
"What's stopping you?"
Grim thought for a moment.
"You won't like the answer."
"Probably not. I want to know, though."
Grim inhaled, preparing himself.
"...What if I don't deserve to get better?"
Grim was grateful his face was still pressed into Immy's shoulder, unable to see her face.
She squeezed him tighter, closer- as if he could run off any moment.
Her breaths trembled every exhale. He expected her to sniffle a little bit. After all, he was hurting her.
Instead, a wail rose in her throat.
"No. No, please don't cry over me-" He begged, pulling away and taking her face into his gloved hands.
"Why? Because you don't deserve it?" She wept. "What do you think you deserve, Grim?"
Fuck it.
"...Hell."
The cries stopped for a moment as Immy stared at him, stunned. She pulled away from his hands and clasped hers over her mouth.
"Immy-"
As her head dropped, she seemed to keen as if someone had died. She looked at him, wide eyed.
Grim opened his mouth, but no words managed to fit what he wanted to say.
When she sniffed and brushed the tears from her eyes, she spoke.
"I don't know if that's a big deal where you're from," She mumbled. "But I was raised Christian."
"I know that transition can be hard, I'm sorry-"
"-Would you shut up and let me worry about you?"
He sighed and went silent.
"Thanks. The idea of hell terrified me, especially when I was little. Doesn't help I was having doubts, either. My point is, why would you ever-"
"-I murdered him, Immy."
She gazed at him.
"It took two seconds of impulse. Recently..." He gestured around him. "My impulses haven't been great, to say the least. Everyone I love feels like a ticking time bomb, and I can't live with myself anymore."
"...And that's what all this is about? The self-destruction?"
"Yes."
She looked at the tile.
"...How are you feeling?" Grim asked her.
"I'm fine."
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah. Worried, of course- but I feel fine."
Her face was void of any more emotion.
He had the sneaking suspicion that she was not fine, but she spoke again before he could point out her tension.
"C'mon." She stood. "It's comfier to cry on the couch than the bathroom floor," She sighed. Her arm extended out to him. He took it and pushed himself up off the floor. His vision filled with black.
"Immy-" He stumbled back.
"I've got you," She assured him, pulling him closer.
His vision went back to normal as she stabilized him. His lungs filled with air.
"Thanks," He exhaled.
"It's alright. Can you walk?"
"I should be good."
He took a few shaky steps, trying to be sure of his footing.
"Okay," Grim muttered to himself. Immy led him into the living room.
He carefully set himself down on the couch.
"I'm gonna make tea," Immy announced. "Chamomile good? I know you prefer english-"
"-Chamomile's great, Immy. Thank you," Grim told her.
She smiled.
"Okay!"
She disappeared into the kitchen.
Grim glanced up at the clock. 4:56 AM. I shouldn't have woken her up. She needs sleep.
The cold, guilty feeling crawled up his spine again. Always taking care of me. Why am I so stupid? Fucking Purex? What was I thinking?
He knew the answer. He wasn't.
Of course. He sighed and pulled his knees up to his chest, leaning on the arm of the couch. He scratched the newly stretched cracks on his face.
"Water's boiling," Immy called from the door frame.
Grim turned his head to look at her.
"Are you still feeling nauseous?"
"A little bit," He replied.
She sighed.
"Okay. You probably need to eat something, since I'm sure you have nothing good in your system anymore," She suggested. "How's toast?"
"That sounds great."
"Apple butter, per ushe?"
"Please?" He encouraged.
Immy smiled and retreated back into the kitchen. She returned with two steaming cups of tea and set them down on the coffee table.
"I'll get a bucket," She said. "I don't know how well you're gonna keep things down. The tea's plain, so if you can't keep it down, I'm just gonna assume you can't keep water down, either."
"Thank you, I really appreciate it."
"Of course! I appreciate your... appreciation? Whatever."
Grim smiled fondly.
He'd have to remember to do something for her, when he felt a little better. Gabriel, too. All he knew was that he was tired of parties, so that option was out.
She hurried back into the kitchen at the sound of the toaster popping.
He still needed to apologize to Gabriel, which had to be put off another day. He deserved more than a shitty phone call, and Grim's hoarse voice would be sure to bring up questions he didn't want to answer. His absence would already bring up enough of those.
Would composing a song for him be overkill? Grim pondered. For all the shit I've put him through, no. I'd need a fucking symphony to make up for that.
Should I compose a symphony for him?
He considered the idea. It'd take a while. Not like I'm getting much sleep anyway, I guess. I'll need to finish it before Immy dies, because if I run off, he'll never get to see it.
Minor key, or major? Either way, what key? Melody, chords, time signature- where could I acquire an orchestra?
Grim attempted to sit up. His head ached and he drew in a breath through his teeth.
"Hey! No quick movements, you'll hurt yourself," Immy instructed him.
"Yes ma'am," He chuckled, holding his head in one of his hands.
She walked over to the coffee table with two small plates of toast in hand. In her right hand, the toast was slathered with strawberry jam. In her left hand—which Grim was surprised was as strong as it was, due to morphine and whatever other numbing creams were put on it—it was covered in apple butter.
Grim smiled up at her. She set the two plates down.
"Don't eat it yet, I need to get the bucket."
Grim nodded.
She hurried back to the kitchen for what seemed to be the thousandth time.
"Do you wanna watch a movie?" She hollered from the other room.
"Sure!" His voice cracked at the volume of which he attempted to speak.
He heard her muffled laughter.
She walked back in with the bucket and handed it to him before sitting down to his right and grabbing the television remote off of the table.
"The Nightmare Before Christmas?" She suggested.
"It's not Halloween or Christmas."
"We can pretend it is! It feels like Christmas just ended, and I already miss it!"
"You've still got those Christmas lights up in your room. Surprised they haven't burned out."
"I don't have the heart to take them down! I'm sappy and sentimental; there are too many memories attached to those lights." Immy exclaimed, grinning.
Grim took a bite of his toast.
"This might be the best toast I've had ever," He lauded her, smiling.
"Mhm! That's your body saying: 'Hell yes, nutrients!' Do you wanna watch TNBC or not?"
"Y'know that's an abbreviation for a type of breast cancer, right?"
"Nope! STFU and AMGQ!"
Grim wheezed.
"I think you just gave me a stroke- what?"
"Shut the fuck up and answer my goddamn question!"
"Yes, Immy, let's watch it."
"Fuck yes!"
His stomach churned.
"Shit," He muttered, grabbing the bucket he had set off to the side.
"And that's your body saying: 'You betrayed me, bitch! No food for you!'" Immy rubbed his shoulder as he threw up. "I'll get nausea meds. We'll see how well that goes." She turned on the movie.
After several attempts to get something to stay down, they finally gave up and decided to try again later. The movie was a nice distraction from the aching in Grim's skull, the nausea that refused to go away, and his own thoughts, but what was more distracting in several ways was how closely Immy was pressed against him.
He relished the way she curved towards him. The thought of how they could never be together—no matter how perfectly their beings fit—made him bitter.
As his mind wandered, he wondered how else they would mold together, if they could. Would she want to? If Gabriel was right, and she loved him the same as he did, then he'd give her whatever pace she needed. Relationships can be important to take slowly. Never mind what he longed for.
He dreamt of his want more than he'd like to admit. Sometimes he was glad, it was a break from the nightmares that plagued him. The three downsides were why Grim dreaded it.
One: He always woke up, and the passion was gone. Nothing could drag him out of the sorrow that followed. That, combined with the effects on his body, made those mornings torturous.
Two: He had to waste time on himself in order to even walk out of his room. Occasionally it even made him nauseous, which only meant more misery and less intoxicants.
Three: Some of the dreams would end as night terrors. Usually, Immy would drop dead suddenly. Sometimes, it was worse. Grotesque. Her skin would melt off, she'd bleed gold from her eyes, she'd scream and cry like she was being tortured, Grim helpless to do anything but let horrified shrieking out of his lungs.
Of course, when he awoke to the sound of his own throat being shredded, Immy would rush in. Her, being the gorgeous soul that she was, always attempted to comfort him and ask if he wanted to tell her about it. The answer was always no, thank you. He'd be out in a little bit.
Both the good and bad of the dreams were fake, and Grim had to shake himself to reality after.
Grim pushed the longing out of his mind and tried to refocus on the movie.
Around the middle of the movie, Grim's phone alarm went off, startling both of them.
"Jesus Christ-" Immy yelped, laughing a little bit. "Maybe you'd feel a little better if you changed that god awful alarm sound."
"It wakes me up well," Grim defended.
Immy crossed her arms.
"You wake up to pure sorrow every morning."
"And what do you wake up to in the morning?"
"Baby One More Time by Britney Spears."
Grim chuckled. "2000s, I should've known."
"Technically 1999, but basically."
"Well, I like my alarm."
"I think you're a masochist." She clicked her tongue.
"Not the sound itself, I'll admit it sucks, but it serves its purpose."
"Know what else would serve its purpose? 2000s pop," She rebutted. "Maybe I should've blasted some to get you awake last night."
"Really?"
"Yes! You went completely still for a long time. Like, I couldn't even tell if you were breathing."
Holy shit, did I flatline?
"When?"
"Midnight-ish. You passed out a lot before that, but you were always breathing really heavily. This was... different." She shuttered. "It was scary. You were screaming, and then just stopped."
"Jesus Christ," Grim mumbled. "That's something us immortals have dubbed as flatlining."
"Flatlining? You died?" She uttered.
"...If I was a mortal, I would've."
She went silent and turned away from him slightly, hiding her face.
"Please don't cry," Grim wavered. "I ingested copious amounts of Purex, of course it would kill a mortal."
She took in a shaky breath.
"I figured it would've." She trembled as she spoke. "I don't know why this is getting me."
"It's okay," Grim comforted.
Immy wrapped her arms around his chest, minding his ribs.
"It'll all be okay," He crooned. "...You know you can tell me when you're not feeling well, right?"
Immy sighed.
"I know. I'm fine, really."
"Promise?"
"Ironic, coming from you."
"Ouch. You got me."
"Mhm."
After a moment of hesitation, Grim spoke out.
"Is there anything I can do?" He asked, taking her hand.
"The only things I can think of are things you can't and won't do at the moment."
"Such as?"
"...Treating yourself better. Going to therapy. Forgiving yourself."
"Damn."
"Told you."
He reached up and caressed her velvety cheek. She leaned into the touch.
"I do love you, y'know," He added.
"I know you do," Immy sighed. "But you're in a bottomless pit, and I'm at the top, not able to get you out. It's frustrating."
"I've been falling my whole life, Immy." Grim smiled at her, melancholy. "I'm just hitting the part where the sun barely reaches."
"It must be lonely."
"Experience-wise, yeah. I don't know anyone else who's gone through all the things I have. Maybe that's why I've thought so much about Tenebris lately."
"It's gonna be okay."
"I try to convince myself of that. Little moments like... well, this- are a break from the fall. The eye of the storm, if you will."
"Someday, you'll get better. I know you will."
"Someday."
"I love you."
"Horrible choice."
The movie continued. Grim glanced at an old clock hung up on the wall. 6:32. That's right, my alarm went off a few minutes ago.
"Gabriel warned me about that look," Immy commented, stripping his attention away from the timepiece.
"How do you guys tell each other everything without me knowing?"
"We don't, really. All this is from Sunday morning," She explained. "He texted me asking if you were alright. I told him I didn't know, and he called and told me everything."
Not everything.
Grim sighed. "I guess that makes sense. I feel really bad for what I did to him."
"With the worry?"
Here it comes.
"No. I yelled at him to leave and locked myself in my bedroom when he refused," Grim admitted, trying to banish the guilt from his voice.
"I know."
"You're not mad at me?"
"More concerned. I know that you're going through some shit, and you're torturing yourself with it. Gabriel's not that mad, either."
"Should be," Grim muttered under his breath. "I treated him horribly. I des-"
"If you're gonna tell me what you deserve again, I might throw up. Don't play god, Grim. It's above your pay grade."
"What do you mean?"
"You don't get to decide who deserves what. Not even what you deserve."
"But-"
"-Ah. Nope. Watch the movie, Grim."
He stared at the screen, not really paying attention.
Closer to the end of the movie, Immy passed out again, arms still wrapped around him.
He draped an arm across her body, nestling into the touch. He felt desensitized to the hesitation in his mind. Maybe it was selfish, but he wanted to cherish this. He memorized the feeling.
Her still, peaceful, maybe even content face was half hidden by the fabric of Grim's hoodie.
Looking up at the clock, he hoped to the stars that she could have another year of happiness.
It'll be any day now, make it special. He commanded himself.
Any day now.
Tick,
Tock.
Tick,
Tock.
~~~
AAAAAA FUCK GUYS
HEAVY CHAPTERS HEAVY THEMES BROSSSSSSSS
I LOVE PUTTING IN RANDOM REFERENCES TO THINGS I HAVE VOWED TO NEVER STATE DIRECTLY HERE. AHEM AHEM, THE WANT.
IT'S SO FUN TO WRITE, LIKE EVEN THE ANGSTY BITS. ESPECIALLY THE ANGSTY BITS.
Okay, serious writer Alice mode. Take care of yourselves, please! I know these past few chapters have been a LOT, and I need you all to know that I love you, and other people love you too.
Also, drink water. For some reason, I know people don't drink water??? What??? Hydrate or Diedrate, bitches.
-Alice/Craz <3