I shuffle my feet as I walk to my usual spot. The alleyway. The pack of cigarettes in my pocket weighs far heavier than it realistically should be, and I know exactly why. I just... don't want to think too hard about it.
--I cough, cough, cough again, as fire scorches my lungs. Smoke erupts from my lips and I heave any oxygen out of my chest. Get out, get out, GET OUT--
My boots stagger for a moment on a raised piece of sidewalk. I huff a little and resume walking until I've reached my spot. But I don't step forward further than the edge of the alley. I feel numb, and that scares me. Quietly, I reach for the pack in my pocket, pulling it out to inspect.
It's normal. It looks just the same as it always has, always does, and yet...
--They're jumping to their feet, screaming my name. I can't hear them past the blood rushing through my ears. Their hands force smoke out of my lungs as they desperately try to save me, save me--
...The pack glows in the low light of late evening. I sigh, bandaged fingers flipping it over again and again. My knuckles sting from how often I've been sinking my teeth into them, but it's hard to do much else to sate the cravings. And that's why I'm right back where I started. Even after I almost die, I come back.
...What am I doing?
--A water bottle's lifted to my lips and I'm urged to drink. I do, taking in water when I can't take in air. The pause hurts, my chest hurts, my ribs creak and my mind numbs, but then I open my mouth and breathe--
My eyes water so I blink, willing away any tears. Not now. Not now and not ever. My breath shudders a little but I feel thankful that I have any breath to breathe at all. I shuffle my feet, debating whether to go in or leave. The desire for a comforting smoke break and the fear of another chance of death wrangle all sense out of my mind. It's suffocating. I'm suffocating--
"Garcello?"
I freeze. The pack slips from my fingers, landing flat on the floor. My heart drops just as fast and I scramble to pick it up, the tips of my digits scratching on hard concrete. As soon as I look up, I'm met with the concerned visage of (Y/N).
"Sorry," I say reflexively. My voice scrapes and grinds with a throat that hasn't drank a healthy amount of water. Fingers frantically fluttering through my disheveled hair, I mumble, "I just, um... H-how've you been?"
Real smooth.
"I'm alright...?" They look at me with worried eyes and my stomach stings. "Garcy, are you okay?"
"I'm fine," I say, even as my hands shake. I want that smoke so badly, but I can't do that-- for multiple reasons. The person standing in front of me is one of them. "Just, um... nerves."
(Y/N) stares at me for a moment, gaze catching on my bandaged hands. I tense up just a little.
"Are you... sure you're alright? Did something happen?"
"Just a bad habit, honestly." I look down at my hands and wince. I'm sure it didn't look that bad before... I've only been gnawing on my hands and knuckles for a little while. "It's really not as bad as it looks. Just a few scabs and all that."
"Oh." They look a bit deflated, gazing at me with confusion swirling in their eyes. My heart squeezes.
"Anyway," I manage through a tight-lipped smile that hurts to bear, "I gotta go."
"Go? Go where?"
"Oh, just..." My head swims as I turn away. What excuse do I have? I just need to be away from them, and I don't know why. My chest is going to explode otherwise. "Annie's expecting me. Nothing big. I'll see you around, (Y/N)."
I spin on my heel and stagger out of the alleyway, walking as fast as I can out of sight. (Y/N) is strangely silent. I don't know if that makes me feel better or worse.
Why do I feel so nauseous? It was never this bad before. My heart's pounding out of my chest.
I stagger against a brick corner, hand grasping the textured wall. I just... I just need a break. I can't breathe.
My eyes wander back to my pockets. The weight of my cigarettes sits like an anchor against my thigh. Thing is, I can't tell anymore if that anchor is keeping me grounded or dragging me down. It's driving me mad.
I can feel my ribs creak and my ribcage glow. That damned glow that never goes away. Even after I almost die, it never leaves me. I bite my tongue until I taste tangy metallic blood, trying to focus somewhere else.
Please. I need to get away. I need to, I need, I need to, to--
--I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket. I blink, shakily looking down as I grip the device and pull it in front of my face.
...Annie.
A broken sob wrangles out of my throat. Pure relief floods my veins. Annie. Always there for me, Annie.
With trembling fingers, I accept the call and lift the cell to my ear.
"...Hey, An."
"Garcello!" Her bright voice fills my head and my chest stings just a little less. "Hey, man. What's up? Where you at?"
I scratch my head, bandaged hands brushing against raggedy hair. "I'm... around. And as for what's up? Hmm... not much, really. You, uh... called at a pretty good time, though. Heh."
"Huh-- what?" Annie's previously lighthearted voice instantly turns concerned. "Is something wrong, dude?"
"Nah, I mean, it... I'm..." I can't will my voice any further. I can't... keep doing this. I have to try. I have to tell her. It's the best thing I can do, at least right now. "...Honestly, Annie... I'm... not doing good right now." I pause, then add quietly, "...I'm kind of scared."
I hear her breathe softly through the line. After a moment of silence, she speaks up, voice oh-so-gentle. "Do you wanna talk about it?"
"Not really," I say with a humorless laugh and a smile that doesn't reach my eyes, "But I should. It's... I need to try and... well, I need to try."
"Oh. You know... if you don't wanna talk about it, you really don't have to." Before I can pipe up, she continues, "Not talking about it doesn't mean you're not trying. It just means you're not talking about it."
...I didn't expect that response.
"Okay," I exhale, rubbing the bridge of my nose. My eyes idly drift to my hand and squint at the sight of a small cut across the back of it. When did I get that? I ask earnestly, "What else do you think I could do, then?"
"Mm... well, I don't know about you, but... whenever I'm going through something... I find comfort and sanity in something small. I try to enjoy anything that's seemingly meaningless. Liiike..." Annie hums for a moment. "...I used to try painting my nails different colors whenever I could. Or beginning a collection of leaves that look cool."
"Really?" My voice comes out half-amused, half-amazed. "Huh. Never thought about that."
"Most people don't!" Annie laughs over the phone, "But I think it works, at least for me. Still, step one is different for everyone. For me, it's settling my feelings first, and then I can process 'em. For you, it could be the same, but it could also be different."
Feelings. Right... I still have to think about... all of those, swirling around in my head. Just my luck that I'm dealing with my whole smoking situation and my... crush(..?) on (Y/N).
But... I'll get through it. I always do. I'm not sure if that's comforting or not, but it's at least a guarantee.
"Alright," I sigh, "Um... what do you think I could do today, then?"
"Geez, really that bad, huh?" Annie's voice almost sounds teasing, but I've known her well enough to recognize the genuine care behind that front. She knows me well enough, too, to be concerned in the first place. "Usually you're good with doing basically anything all day. Y'know, going with the flow. But alright, hmm... ideas... Oh! If you can get to the park, there's a neat new drink spot that popped up. Open 24/7. I'd try something from there. See what you like!"
Quite honestly, I'm exhausted. Not sure if I have the willpower to make it there and order something... but... I trust Annie more than anything. And sometimes you have to take that first push.
"Sounds good," I manage through a small smile. "Thanks, man."
"Awesome!" I hear her sigh a little in relief, coming out as crackling static through the receiver. "Okay, I'll see you! Bye!"
"Bye."
It takes me a slight effort to lower the phone and end the call. Exhaling, I look up at the clouds floating across the sky. The sun is sinking into the horizon, falling into the night, casting warm orange hues over my skin. It's a quiet evening.
Alright. Step one.
~~~
(A/N)
SURPRISE!!! a garcello pov chapter! honestly through this whole fic, I've actively avoided writing pov shifts. i thought it gave a more straightforward view for the reader, to be only in their own head the entire story. buuut i couldn't resist with this one.
if any of you recognize the beginning part, that's because this chapter is just a pov shift of the first part of chapter 17, "sick"! there are a LOT of bits in this fic that are purposely left a little vague so that the reader can fill in what other characters do off-screen (off-chapter?) on their own, so i decided to take one of those vague bits and try to flesh out garcello's slow journey of healing. i feel it wasn't represented well enough in the fic itself since garcello and (y/n)'s interactions are mostly a slowburn romance from the reader's pov. his arc took place off-screen a lot, which I'm not too proud of...
he most definitely presents himself as being okay and chill a lot, but in this chapter, he's basically at his lowest point, which is the reason for his spiralling thoughts and slightly ooc narration. i like to think that most of the time, he does actually feel the way he acts-- calm and easy-going-- but there are most definitely moments where it's just a front. this time being one of them.
i hope y'all enjoyed this update! I'm probably going to be writing very slice-of-life silly eps from here on... well, the story-stuff was fun while it lasted.
thank you for sticking by! i love you all!