Other side of paradise (Jason Dean x reader)

𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐞

A/n: if you know the song above, PLEASE BE MY FRIEND.

You were sitting at your desk, and you watched Heather Duke whisper into your sister's ear.  Veronica got a sickening grinch-like smirk.  She stood up from her seat, looked around for the teacher, and smiled wider when she saw no adults were around.  She strutted up to the blackboard, grabbed a piece of chalk, and began to write.

When she finished, she made her way back to the seat, and you looked at the blackboard.  You were nervous about what she and Heather could come up with.  The message read 'Poor little Heather.' You were confused as to what that meant, but you had a feeling you would find out soon enough.

Veronica saw you staring, and pulled out her diary to jot down a quick entry.  Maybe her conscience was still around her head somewhere.

'Heather's planning to tell everyone about Heather,' Veronica wrote.  'Yes, dear diary, I helped to cut off Heather Chandler's head, and Heather Duke's head has sprung up right in it's place, like some mythical creature that my eighth grade boyfriend would have known about.  Heather's even doing the old note trick.  I've seen JD's way, I've seen Pauline Flemming's way, and nothing has changed.  I guess that's a true Heather's way.  And Jesus, what about JD?  I can't seem to get him out of my head...'

You stared at the blackboard, quite confused.  Although, even having no context, you knew this wouldn't end well.  And that's when Heather MN walked in.  She took her seat, and choked on her breath when she read what was on the blackboard.  Wait a moment, there was no telling that she was the Heather in question.  Maybe she was just paranoid.

"Did you hear that Heather went and complained to a radio show last night," Duke whispered to someone.

Oh.  So it was about her.

In less than five minutes, the whole classroom was murmuring and gossiping about Heather.  Everyone knew her parents were divorced, everyone knew she was struggling with her grades, and everyone knew that no matter how popular Heather was, she wasn't happy.  And Heather couldn't take it.

She practically jumped up from her seat, grabbed her bag, and hastily exited the room.   Heather D began to giggle, and Veronica snickered.  You didn't like seeing anyone upset, even a Heather, so you grabbed your stuff and stood up to follow her.

"(y/n), where are you going," Veronica asked.

"Shut the fuck up," you seethed.

You quickly left the room, and rushed down the hall to find McNamara.  Then you heard crying from the ladies room.

Inside, Heather was struggling to open a bottle of pills.  Her life wasn't worth living anymore.  She had no real friends, her boyfriend was dead, her parents didn't love each other or her, her teachers hated her, and even something as simple as riding the bus to school in the morning was a reminder of her tragic life, since it reminded her that all of her friends (and rides to school) were fricken' dead.  And no amounts of parties, underage drinking, or drugs could fix these problems.  So, she stole her father's bottle of prescription pain killers.

"Fucking... child protective... caps," she muttered.

She struggled to twist open the cap, so she just smashed the bottle against the sink, and pills went flying everywhere, the cap doing a tasteful summersault in midair before landing in the sink.  Luckily for Heather, there was still enough pills in the bottle to be a lethal dose.  So, she slammed them back like a shot, and filled up the bottle with water to help them go down easier.

"HEATHER," you screeched.

You ran over to her and smacked the back of her head as hard as possible, and most of the pills came flying out.  You smacked the water out of her hand, and the bottle fell into the sink, the dirty school water spilled right into the drain.  She fell over, grabbing onto the wall for support, tears pouring from her eyes like waterfalls.

"What are you trying to do," she shouted angrily.  "Kill me?!"

"What are you trying to do," you retorted.  "Sleep?!"

Heather slumped down the wall, sitting on the floor.  You walked over and sat down next to her, but didn't try to touch her in any way.  You wanted to try and keep her as calm as possible.

"Suicide is a private thing," she sobbed.

"Heather, you're throwing your life away to become a statistic in US-fucking-A-Today.  That's the least private thing I can imagine," you told her.

"What about Heather, and Kurt and Ram?"

"If everyone jumped off a bridge, would you?"

"Probably."

"Look, if you were happy every day of your life, you wouldn't be a human.  You'd be a game show host.  Now, how about we leave early, get you a new pair of shoes or something lame like that?"

"I'd like that."

You stood up and helped Heather up from her spot on the wall.  You grabbed her some paper towels and handed them to her so she could dry her tears and blow her nose.  She grabbed your hand and you both made your way out of the bathroom, confidentially strutting through the halls towards the exit.

"Hey, Heather," you asked.

"Yeah?"

"You're one of my best friends.  Don't die on me."

"I'll see what I can do."

A/n: which Heather is better, Chandler, Duke or McNamara?