Jacksepticeye One Shots

Blood.

Hi, just wanted to let you know that I just posted the first chapter of a new fanfiction. It's called Can Nobody Hear Me? and it would be awesome if you checked it out but obviously don't feel obliged to! (Thanks if you do though!)

TW: Depression, self harm, suicide attempt, alcohol abuse.

Chase was sitting on the floor of the bathroom, his phone in front of him with a suicide hotline on loud speaker. His face was drenched with tears and he had drunk a large amount of whisky but not so much that he was completely drunk. In his hands was his razor which he just kept flipping over as he contemplated what to do with it.

He had been on the line for a few minutes and the guy on the other side of the phone had literally just gone through the protocol: how may I help you? (maybe talk him out of suicide?), don't do anything, is anyone around, are you safe?

He let out a loud sob so the guy on the line spoke again. "Would you like to talk about something to distract you?"

"What's the point?" Chase muttered, finally finding it in him to press the razor into his forearm. His cries just increased in volume which  understandably raised the guy's levels of concern.

"What are you doing right now?"

"Bathroom  floor... razor... don't wanna say." His words were split apart by his hiccups and sobs but the guy didn't even seem fazed by it.

"Do you play video games? If you do, what's your favourite?"

"I don't like them but- but my friend does..."

"Tell me more about this friend." Chase slowly started to tell the guy more about his friend that was more than a friend (Jack was very literally like a brother to him) and it helped distract him for a moment so he could pretend that, for once, everything was okay. He told the guy about Jack's YouTube channel (not mentioning his name just in case the guy knew of Jack) and how he was one of the main reasons Chase was still on this planet.

After a few more minutes, Chase heard a door slam downstairs. His eyes widened and he quickly stammered out, "I need to go. One of my- my roommates just got home and they- they can't see me like this!"

"Before you go, I just want to say that it might be worth talking to them. If they're a good friend, they'll want to help you get better. You shouldn't have to be facing this on your-" He hung up and shoved his phone into the pocket of his jeans. His palms were sweaty so he rubbed them on his thighs before realising the one cut on his left arm was bleeding rather profusely. He swore to himself, swearing a second time when he heard his name get called. Due to the sheer panic he was feeling, he had almost completely sobered up.

He rushed over to the sink after grabbing a wad of toilet paper. The tears picked up again at that point so it was hard to see through his blurry, tear-filled vision. He pressed the tissue into his wrist, hardly noticing the sting that constantly lingered. It wasn't long before his roommate knocked on the bathroom door and yelled, "Chase, you in there?"

Chase knew replying would be stupid of him. If he even said one word his voice would crack and give away the fact that he was crying and not in a very good state of mind. So he stayed quiet as he tried to stop the bleeding. When it finally subsided a little, he rummaged through the cupboard and found some bandages.

"Chase, seriously dude. You're kind of worrying me."

"I'm fine!" Chase shouted, wincing when the words did crack a little and give him away.

"Are you crying? Has something happened? Are you hurt?"

Deciding against replying again, Chase focused on wrapping the bandage around the single cut. It didn't take long. He looked at himself in the mirror,  fluffing his hair up to give it a bit more life and rubbing his eyes to try and make them less red (it had the opposite effect...). He finally unlocked the door and pulled it open, managing to force a smile to build on his lie.