Sometimes You Don't Want to Be Okay - Kellic

Promise

I just updated but it was too tempting n o t to make this-

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After consuming fifty five pills of numerous kinds and running in front of a racing car, one would think that person would have surely died. But apparently not. Because God either hates that person so much they don't want to see them in heaven and rather them continue to suffer, or flicked them back down to earth because their purpose was not fulfilled, both are plausible. There's also the option that ambulances in my area are quick.

Whatever it was, most people's beliefs, including mine, were wrong. Because after I consumed fifty five pills of different kinds and ran in front of a racing car, I was rushed into the emergency room.

And lived.

I couldn't move. The pain was unbearable. They couldn't give me morphine as I'd already taken so many pills and my body was still recovering from both that and the collision with a car.

I could blink, though. I could move my head and most importantly, I could breathe. I didn't want to breathe, I wasn't supposed to be breathing. I was supposed to be a mangled corpse on the street being taken away to the morgue. I was supposed to be being done up by some artist so that I would look presentable with my open coffin funeral; if I even held an open coffin funeral.

But I was breathing, and so was everyone around me. Most importantly, the crying raven haired boy who was breathing quite heavily. I was half asleep when I noticed his presence. Kellin was sitting beside my bed with Mike, Tony and Jaime. They were all in tears. And then I did feel guilty. I tried to leave them, but at the same time, I still wanted to.

"Vic," Kellin whispered. "Baby, god, why." He was clutching my hand, an action I'd just realized was being done. The more I realized it, focused on it, I felt how tightly he was holding onto it, as if I could simply slip away at any moment. I wished that was the case.

"Don't cry," I whispered back, turning my head a few inches. "I hate seeing you cry." He looked up at me, a glimmer of hope, relief, in his eyes, that was soon replaced with anger and more loud sobs.

"I can't believe you!" He yelled. "W-Why didn't you tell me? About any of it? That you were feeling this way- I would've helped you! Baby, please, talk to me, I can't lose you."

I didn't reply, I didn't cry. I was numb. I couldn't tell if that was the aftereffects of my pills or the fact part of me didn't give a damn. Part of me couldn't give a damn.

"V-Vic," Jaime was the next one to speak. "Oh my God, I knew you were going through something, but not-" He spun around, clearly trying to hide his evident tears. His eyes had been red, puffy, bloodshot. All of theirs were.

"I'm.." What? What was I? Sorry? Clearly I wasn't. I did what I did with full recognition, I was in a rational mindset, even if what I did was irrational to some, I knew what I was doing to both myself and everyone who would give a damn. I wasn't sorry. I was sorry that they had to be so sorrowful about me, but not that I'd tried, not that I would try again. I was broken beyond repair, I was in a hole so deep no one could get me without falling in themself. So I couldn't let them get me, I couldn't let anyone fall too.

"Who ran into me? Are they okay?" I asked after a moment of silence, of thought and tears and anger, and regret. Regret that I didn't try something more effective, and regret on their end, that they couldn't save me. Even though none of this was anyone's fault. Maybe, not even mine. That I was so low, that is.

"Are they okay?" Mike repeated, angry. "How about you? Are you okay? A-After- You made me a promise Vic! Brothers don't- They don't break promises!"

This time I cried. My little brother in tears over me was heartbreaking. I'd seen it before, but it didn't make it any easier. That night he caught me, he made me make a promise I couldn't keep. I knew I couldn't keep it, but for my brother I'd try.

The coldness from the open window. The last cold Vic would feel. The metal against his temple, soon moving into his mouth, the hard floor scraping against his raw knees. And soon, the opening door.

"Shut your fucking window for christ sake- Holy shit."

Vic paused, looking up at his brother. His grip faltered and he nearly dropped the gun, but he remembered his task and soon placed it under his chin, still there if needed, but allowing him to speak.

"Hey, Mikey, what are you doing in here?" He played if off stupidly. It's not like Mike cared anyway, no one did. Vic was alone. That sentence was the first time he'd spoken in months. Now to his little brother, who walked in on a horrifying sight.

"Vic, what the fuck are you doing?!" Mike yelled through tears threatening to spill. They did spill. He knew Vic wasn't the same after Harley, but he thought Vic was stronger than this, he thought Vic would never do that, he would stay strong for Harley. That's what Vic said, anyways, in the notes he wrote to Mike, and Mike only.

"Please, leave. I don't want you to see this," Vic pleaded.

"No!" Mike ripped the gun from Vic's hand. "No," he repeated, quieter. "I- I'm not losing my big brother." He stared down at the uncovered arms of Vic. "Jesus fucking-" He lightly brushed his arm over the many marks. "Make me a promise."

"Mike-"

"Just listen!" Mike shouted, squeezing his eyes shut in agony. "Make me a promise," he repeated again in a quieter tone. "That I won't see more scars on your arms, that I won't see your corpse anytime soon."

"I promise."

Some people can't keep promises, not ones like that. But they can still try, and try again after.

"I'm making you a promise," I spoke softly. "You.. all, a promise. That you- You won't see any scars on me, and you won't see my corpse anytime soon."

A smile tugged at Mike's lips. "I better not."

Whether the promise was truthful or not, Vic had to try. For Mike, for Tony, for Jaime, and for Kellin.

For Kellin.

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Life? What's that? I live in wattpad-