( so ughm.. jay forgot to post this so Moony's doing it for them 👍)
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tw: depression, self harm, suicidal thoughts, unwillingness to eat. please be careful reading !!
requested by @AsiniePerson.
hey uh i'm not. very proud of the ending, but hopefully it's decent.
-jasper
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He curls into himself.
He hates this. Hates how his mind pulls him down at every step, weighing him down to the ground. Hates how he sits on the edge, every night and every day, but stuck by the bonds that he had foolishly made on a better day.
He's not- he doesn't- he can't think, not when every moment contradicts himself and he just wants everything to end, wants everything to be over because it's just too much and nobody understands and he's all alone and what's the point-
There's one thing that's clear, though, and that is that he hates himself.
He's not sure when it started, just an urge that grew, festered. Something that whispered in his mind, hung over his mind, pressing down on his chest until he couldn't breathe. A jeering voice followed him wherever he went, a shadow that he could never get rid of.
Techno pushes everything away, and he goes on.
Monotone, everything was so blank and empty and white, time whirling past him in both a din of laughter and brightness and a taken warm hand and a silence, stretching on, black and white and grey.
As he walks past crowds, hands cracking and dry and fingernails digging into skin, he keeps his head down, blends in. Just another kid who follows the crowds, just another everyday person that nobody sees.
He picks at his food, unwilling to eat. There's no- he doesn't know why, he just stares at the plate of food before him and knows he can't. He can't, as he clutches at his stomach which begs for food that he denies, the feeling gnawing at his insides but wanted for all the same.
Wilbur forces him to eat, though, when he's at home. Sits with him at the dinner table until he reluctantly puts the tasteless food in his mouth, and he forces himself to swallow.
(He throws up most of it anyways, when Wilbur leaves.)
He hides in his room when he can, where Wilbur and Tommy and Phil, the only people keeping him afloat in a crashing sea, do not venture. He says enough to be okay, does enough for his actions to be normal, but it isn't enough he's never enough why did he ever think that they'd want him, of all people, please he's drowning and there's no one there-
He's okay though, he swears he is. He's not crying to himself in the dark as he snatches any semblance of warmth that disappears at the slightest of touches; he's not staring at pale blank arms like a canvas waiting to be filled, he wants it, he hates it, because tearing and biting at his skin isn't enough anymore to jolt him out of his suffocating trains of thoughts anymore-
Until he goes too far, ignores his work one time too many because his body is numb and he can't find anything to pull himself back up with, no matter how small. Because he can't do it, because darkness claws at his mind and envelopes him, because he can't sleep and can't do anything and it's not his usual procrastination. It's a feeling, it's a will of-
He doesn't know. He just can't.
And then Phil of all people yell at him one day, and he breaks. Yells at him about why can't he do this, why is he taking so long to do things, about why are his goddamn grades sinking. And then Tommy joins in with a leering grin he's joking, you know he's joking, he's not serious that sinks into his skin, leaving him gasping for breath and face buried into hands as he tries to be quiet as he cries.
