Ten things (in a manner of speaking)
Aug. 28th, 2011 02:05 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
wildwesthero[ooc]We... didn't set out to write this. But they won't let me rewrite it or change it, so this is what you're getting.[/ooc]
Charles sat back, pen poised over the notepad in front of him. "Ten things about me, hey? You sure you only want me to stop at ten?"
"Your arrogance knows no bounds, Charles. Just stick to ten. I suggest the first should be that you are possessed with a grandiose sense of self and have trouble seeing past your privileged white-boy status," Andrew mused.
"Says you who went to private school as well. Like you can talk," Charles said.
"I beg your pardon. I don't wander around with a swagger. I don't know how you can be so left wing and yet so bloody arrogant at the same time. There are times when I don't think you understand your own bloody politics," Andrew said.
Charles looked sceptical. "You don't give a shit about politics. Why would you care? Besides, being left wing doesn't mean being poor. And I do not swagger."
"You're a lazy bastard, that's what. Lazy, and arrogant. Honestly, have you ever got an assignment in on time? I'm surprised you can find anything in that bedroom of yours," Andrew said.
"It's your bedroom too, you know," Charles shot back.
"But most of the mess is yours. I know how to tidy," Andrew said.
"You're a mummy's boy, that's why. She still takes care of you, you know. You're supposed to be an adult, not sulking around the house all the time," Charles said.
Andrew slapped him then. Charles sat there, shocked, and decided against laughing as he saw how annoyed Andrew looked. Clearly he'd gone too far.
"It's not 'sulking'. It's fucking depression, you fucking insensitive arsehole! Honestly, Charles. Sometimes I wonder if you even understand me at all. I don't need this shit from you right now, not when I feel as shitty as I do."
"Oh, come on, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it! Andrew, come back!" Charles called after him as he left.
Andrew wouldn't have a bar of it and left him alone. Charles threw the notepad away and frowned. He heard the front door slam. Charles turned the television on rather aggressively and sunk back into the couch. He lasted all of a quarter of an hour before he decided he should really go and find Andrew, just to make sure he was alright. Switching the television off, he left, hoping Andrew would be willing to talk to him.
Andrew hadn't gone far. Andrew sat on a bench in the park a few streets away. He didn't look over as Charles sat down next to him.
Charles reached for his hand. Andrew didn't pull away. "Andrew, look, I'm sorry, alright? That got out of hand. I didn't mean what I said. I know you're depressed. I know how hard this is for you. I just want you to get better so I can stop walking on eggshells around you. You know I'm not really going to hurt you, don't you? I'm a pathetic sissy who can't even win a stinking student election. I'm a fuck-up. I couldn't do it. I'm scared for you, and I try my best, but sometimes it's not enough, is it? I'm sorry. I'm sure you deserve someone better than me to take care of you."
"I don't expect you to be perfect. I know I'm probably not the nicest person to be around at the moment. I wouldn't blame you for leaving. I don't know why you'd like me anyway. I'm not likeable, not like you. I put on a mask so no one can see how ugly I really am inside. I just wish you'd at least try to understand why this is so hard for me to beat. It's not something that I can just get over. The thoughts just keep spiralling. I can't always stop them. It's crippling me. I don't always tell you that either, do I? Sometimes everything hurts so much all I want to do is drown myself to make the pain stop. But I'm a coward. I don't have the courage to kill myself, not really. We're both sissies. I'm stuck with this misery," Andrew said softly.
Charles gently brought an arm around his shoulders. "It won't be like this. It won't be this way forever. Don't you remember the good days? I don't like it when you're like this. I'm never sure what I'm supposed to say. I'm scared to leave you alone in case you do something. There are times when I don't feel I can trust you. But then I hate myself for even thinking like that. You're sick, I know that, and you need to get better. You will get better. You do want to get better, don't you? Why would you want to be like this forever?"
Andrew wiped away an errant tear. "You feel like this long enough it begins to feel normal. You get used to it. I know I'm depressed, and I know it's just the depression talking, but it takes a lot of strength to get out of there. I don't always feel like I'm strong enough. I don't know why you still love me. I don't know if there's much of me worth loving."
"Do you want me to leave you alone? Are you going to be alright? I need you to tell me what I'm supposed to do. I want to be able to support you and help you get better, but I don't know how to help you. I try to understand, but you keep shutting me out. Can we stop being aggravated by each other and try to make this better? I don't want to lose you," Charles said tentatively.
Andrew sighed heavily. He wasn't sure. He wasn't sure about anything. "Just listen. That's all I need you to do. If I tell you to leave me alone, listen to me. If I need you to stop me doing something stupid, stop me, even if I say no. I'm not always thinking clearly. I need someone saner than me to watch over me. I've thought about killing myself a lot lately. I've never gone through with it, I don't know if I have the courage to do it, but I still think about it. It's beginning to feel normal. I think it's going to get worse before it gets better. I'm going to need you to be there for me. You could come to therapy one day if you wanted. I could get her to talk to you if you still weren't sure about it. Would that help? You might need to drag me along anyway if I wake up and decide I can't face her."
"If that's what you want, sure. I'll get you there, one way or another. Just don't bitch at me again like you did the last time I had to take you there," Charles said.
Andrew looked at him, confused. "I don't- when did that happen?"
Charles almost replied, but smiled at him instead. "Don't worry about it. It was nothing. You were a bit agitated that day. It was my fault. I got you out of bed too early."
Andrew nodded at the memory as it returned. "That's right. Sorry about that. You know I don't like being woken up too early."
Charles reassured him. Blaming himself was easier than telling him the truth. Charles hated how easily he took advantage of Andrew's patchy memory. He really should stop. One day he'd push it too far and he might lose Andrew for good.
"Come on, why don't we head home? We don't need to finish the list. We can watch stupid movies for the rest of the day instead. How does that sound?" Charles said.
Andrew smiled. "Can we just take it easy? I'm feeling a little too stressed right now and I'm not feeling that great."
"Sure, whatever you want."
Andrew took his hand as they headed back home. He wasn't feeling much better, but at least he'd forgiven Charles, for the moment. Charles hugged him gently, not trying to crowd him. He promised to try and take Andrew's mind off things. As Charles came in with a plate of fish fingers cut up and arranged into ridiculous formations, with accompanying tomato sauce drawings all over the plates, Andrew almost laughed. For a moment, things didn't seem quite so terrible.
"I still don't know why you still hang around. I'm hardly worth it. But I appreciate the effort, though. No one's ever made me fish finger sculptures before," Andrew said.
Charles only had to remove one piece for his sculpture to fall apart. He smiled as he looked over at him. "I hang around because I love you, you idiot. I know you don't always believe that, but it's true. I love you, even when you're like this. I'm a competitive man, Andrew. I'm not going to let your depression take you from me. We'll get through this. We'll be alright. You'll look back on this in a few years and it'll seem like a distant memory. It won't hurt anymore. Things will be better then."
Andrew went to reply, but found himself crying. "I really don't deserve you at all. God, how can you be so wonderful to a little shit like me?"
Charles set his plate down. He brought him into a hug and pressed a kiss to his temple. "Because I love you. I just hope it's enough."
Muses: Charles Firth and Andrew Hansen
Fandom: The Chaser RPS
Word Count: 1571
Warnings: Depression, depressive thoughts, mentions of suicide, and suicidal thoughts.
Disclaimer: Not true in any way, shape or form.
Charles sat back, pen poised over the notepad in front of him. "Ten things about me, hey? You sure you only want me to stop at ten?"
"Your arrogance knows no bounds, Charles. Just stick to ten. I suggest the first should be that you are possessed with a grandiose sense of self and have trouble seeing past your privileged white-boy status," Andrew mused.
"Says you who went to private school as well. Like you can talk," Charles said.
"I beg your pardon. I don't wander around with a swagger. I don't know how you can be so left wing and yet so bloody arrogant at the same time. There are times when I don't think you understand your own bloody politics," Andrew said.
Charles looked sceptical. "You don't give a shit about politics. Why would you care? Besides, being left wing doesn't mean being poor. And I do not swagger."
"You're a lazy bastard, that's what. Lazy, and arrogant. Honestly, have you ever got an assignment in on time? I'm surprised you can find anything in that bedroom of yours," Andrew said.
"It's your bedroom too, you know," Charles shot back.
"But most of the mess is yours. I know how to tidy," Andrew said.
"You're a mummy's boy, that's why. She still takes care of you, you know. You're supposed to be an adult, not sulking around the house all the time," Charles said.
Andrew slapped him then. Charles sat there, shocked, and decided against laughing as he saw how annoyed Andrew looked. Clearly he'd gone too far.
"It's not 'sulking'. It's fucking depression, you fucking insensitive arsehole! Honestly, Charles. Sometimes I wonder if you even understand me at all. I don't need this shit from you right now, not when I feel as shitty as I do."
"Oh, come on, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it! Andrew, come back!" Charles called after him as he left.
Andrew wouldn't have a bar of it and left him alone. Charles threw the notepad away and frowned. He heard the front door slam. Charles turned the television on rather aggressively and sunk back into the couch. He lasted all of a quarter of an hour before he decided he should really go and find Andrew, just to make sure he was alright. Switching the television off, he left, hoping Andrew would be willing to talk to him.
Andrew hadn't gone far. Andrew sat on a bench in the park a few streets away. He didn't look over as Charles sat down next to him.
Charles reached for his hand. Andrew didn't pull away. "Andrew, look, I'm sorry, alright? That got out of hand. I didn't mean what I said. I know you're depressed. I know how hard this is for you. I just want you to get better so I can stop walking on eggshells around you. You know I'm not really going to hurt you, don't you? I'm a pathetic sissy who can't even win a stinking student election. I'm a fuck-up. I couldn't do it. I'm scared for you, and I try my best, but sometimes it's not enough, is it? I'm sorry. I'm sure you deserve someone better than me to take care of you."
"I don't expect you to be perfect. I know I'm probably not the nicest person to be around at the moment. I wouldn't blame you for leaving. I don't know why you'd like me anyway. I'm not likeable, not like you. I put on a mask so no one can see how ugly I really am inside. I just wish you'd at least try to understand why this is so hard for me to beat. It's not something that I can just get over. The thoughts just keep spiralling. I can't always stop them. It's crippling me. I don't always tell you that either, do I? Sometimes everything hurts so much all I want to do is drown myself to make the pain stop. But I'm a coward. I don't have the courage to kill myself, not really. We're both sissies. I'm stuck with this misery," Andrew said softly.
Charles gently brought an arm around his shoulders. "It won't be like this. It won't be this way forever. Don't you remember the good days? I don't like it when you're like this. I'm never sure what I'm supposed to say. I'm scared to leave you alone in case you do something. There are times when I don't feel I can trust you. But then I hate myself for even thinking like that. You're sick, I know that, and you need to get better. You will get better. You do want to get better, don't you? Why would you want to be like this forever?"
Andrew wiped away an errant tear. "You feel like this long enough it begins to feel normal. You get used to it. I know I'm depressed, and I know it's just the depression talking, but it takes a lot of strength to get out of there. I don't always feel like I'm strong enough. I don't know why you still love me. I don't know if there's much of me worth loving."
"Do you want me to leave you alone? Are you going to be alright? I need you to tell me what I'm supposed to do. I want to be able to support you and help you get better, but I don't know how to help you. I try to understand, but you keep shutting me out. Can we stop being aggravated by each other and try to make this better? I don't want to lose you," Charles said tentatively.
Andrew sighed heavily. He wasn't sure. He wasn't sure about anything. "Just listen. That's all I need you to do. If I tell you to leave me alone, listen to me. If I need you to stop me doing something stupid, stop me, even if I say no. I'm not always thinking clearly. I need someone saner than me to watch over me. I've thought about killing myself a lot lately. I've never gone through with it, I don't know if I have the courage to do it, but I still think about it. It's beginning to feel normal. I think it's going to get worse before it gets better. I'm going to need you to be there for me. You could come to therapy one day if you wanted. I could get her to talk to you if you still weren't sure about it. Would that help? You might need to drag me along anyway if I wake up and decide I can't face her."
"If that's what you want, sure. I'll get you there, one way or another. Just don't bitch at me again like you did the last time I had to take you there," Charles said.
Andrew looked at him, confused. "I don't- when did that happen?"
Charles almost replied, but smiled at him instead. "Don't worry about it. It was nothing. You were a bit agitated that day. It was my fault. I got you out of bed too early."
Andrew nodded at the memory as it returned. "That's right. Sorry about that. You know I don't like being woken up too early."
Charles reassured him. Blaming himself was easier than telling him the truth. Charles hated how easily he took advantage of Andrew's patchy memory. He really should stop. One day he'd push it too far and he might lose Andrew for good.
"Come on, why don't we head home? We don't need to finish the list. We can watch stupid movies for the rest of the day instead. How does that sound?" Charles said.
Andrew smiled. "Can we just take it easy? I'm feeling a little too stressed right now and I'm not feeling that great."
"Sure, whatever you want."
Andrew took his hand as they headed back home. He wasn't feeling much better, but at least he'd forgiven Charles, for the moment. Charles hugged him gently, not trying to crowd him. He promised to try and take Andrew's mind off things. As Charles came in with a plate of fish fingers cut up and arranged into ridiculous formations, with accompanying tomato sauce drawings all over the plates, Andrew almost laughed. For a moment, things didn't seem quite so terrible.
"I still don't know why you still hang around. I'm hardly worth it. But I appreciate the effort, though. No one's ever made me fish finger sculptures before," Andrew said.
Charles only had to remove one piece for his sculpture to fall apart. He smiled as he looked over at him. "I hang around because I love you, you idiot. I know you don't always believe that, but it's true. I love you, even when you're like this. I'm a competitive man, Andrew. I'm not going to let your depression take you from me. We'll get through this. We'll be alright. You'll look back on this in a few years and it'll seem like a distant memory. It won't hurt anymore. Things will be better then."
Andrew went to reply, but found himself crying. "I really don't deserve you at all. God, how can you be so wonderful to a little shit like me?"
Charles set his plate down. He brought him into a hug and pressed a kiss to his temple. "Because I love you. I just hope it's enough."
Muses: Charles Firth and Andrew Hansen
Fandom: The Chaser RPS
Word Count: 1571
Warnings: Depression, depressive thoughts, mentions of suicide, and suicidal thoughts.
Disclaimer: Not true in any way, shape or form.