Chapter Text
Some people would usually feel excited when they’re about to do something they’ve waited forever to do. But for paintbrush that feeling never occurred. Sure, it could be that they wanted to kill themself instead of something normal. But still. After drafting and scrapping hundreds of plans of how they were gonna do it, only to chicken out. You’d think that when they actually gathered the courage to finally do it, they’d feel something.
But there was just nothing. Nothing but just a hollow hole there.
Sure, it had been present over the past few months. Randomly feeling way heavier than usual in certain moments. But ever since last night, it hasn’t let up. Usually it went away after they fell asleep, but clearly that was not the case this time around.
Paintbrush rested their chin on their hand as they let the teacher ramble on. Pretending to pay attention to the words, but couldn’t find the energy to care in the slightest. It’s not like it’ll change anything if they pay attention anyways. It’s not like they’ll be attending tomorrow.
Paintbrush didn’t know why they even showed up today. Maybe to say a silent goodbye? Maybe just to stay consistent with their schedule? Hell if they know. They hated coming here. It was just another thing that reminded them that they’re not doing enough. That they weren’t good enough. It ticked them off that they had to come here. All the other kids were doing fine. All the other kids got it right away. All the other kids were getting the marks that they spent hours working for, only to get rewarded with disappointment. Why couldn't their mind just be like the other kids? Maybe their father was right about them.
“Paintbrush, could I ask you something?” The teacher, Ms. Kettle, asked after setting her pencil down on her desk. There was a worrisome crease in between her eyebrows. Great. Just wonderful.
Paintbrush slowly moved their hand away from their face to fold their arms on the desk. They shrugged a little bit, “sure.” Just get it over with
“Well dearie, you’ve been concerning me these past few days. You don’t pay attention in class, you hardly say more than two words in a sentence, and…you always seem dazed.” She rubs her wrist with her hand as she explains. Obviously trying to do anything but look at Paintbrush. Seriously, is the floor really that interesting?
“I’m just, worried is all. You know that me and the other administrators are always here if need someone to talk to.”
Ah yes because school administrators are always SO helpful and caring in the mental health department. Uhuh yeah, for sure. Paintbrush already learned that was total bull years ago. Back in middle school, some losers thought it would be so humorous to destroy a painting Paintbrush had been working on for the past three weeks. So, they reported them to the principal. And to their misfortune, the principal brought their parents into the situation. Needless to say, Paintbrush learned to never do that ever again.
It’s always the same words whenever adults go into these rants. “You’re not alone.”, “You can always come to us!”, and don’t even get them started on those mandatory speeches they give at the beginning of the year. Just because you say something doesn’t mean you mean it., no matter how many times you repeat it. Words are just words if there’s no action to prove you mean them.
“Paintbrush,” The teacher paused, every part of her seemed to lessen. “Are you being harmed in any way at home?”
Well that’s a sentence they weren’t expecting to hear today. Or ever, actually.
“It’s just…I called your parents earlier about your behavior and they…” she finally looked paintbrush in the eyes. “They didn’t seem too happy.”
Oh shit. Shit shit shit shit shit SHIT
Paintbrush forced a smile on their face as they gathered their things. “Yeah don’t worry about it. They’re just like that.” They quickly pulled the backpack on and stood up. “I got some things to do today so I’m gonna go and head out, cool? Cool.”
They quickly rushed on past her. The teacher's once almost calm demeanor changed into a frantic desperation.
“Wait paintbrush, before you go!” Those words made them stop and turn back out of instinct. “I told them about the tutor sessions.”
Paintbrush felt exactly like how she looked. Shaky, desperate, scared, and about one more second away from breaking down. Only in that moment she was the only one brave enough to show it.
No words were said between the two before Paintbrush turned back around and shut the door on their way out. They walked and walked. It didn’t matter where they were going, they just walked. It was all they could do. Their heartbeat could be heard through their ears but it didn’t matter. It doesn’t matter. Just walk. Walk. Walk. Walk.
Empty hallways are supposed to be quiet but right now? It sounded like a goddamn train station. Too much noise. Too much everything. Where the hell even are they? Oh right, the math hallway. Great.
Disappointment settled into their bones. Heartbeat still running like a freight train. They looked down at their hands. Shaking, cool. Awesome even.
This is why Paintbrush didn’t go to adults about anything. Teenagers and adults always go on and on about not trusting kids with information because kids don’t know how to keep their mouth shut. Well clearly they’ve never interacted with anyone over the age of 14. People only ever actually shut up when they know what’s at stake. But sadly for Paintbrush, the general majority of the population lacks common sense. Especially when it comes to high schoolers. People only see things from their perspective and luckily for those people, it ends up fine. But Paintbrush doesn’t get that luxury, no matter how much they want it.
The stupid tutor sessions were something they’ve spent months hiding. Not just from their parents but from their friends. They had to! They didn’t want to be apart of it but their brain just wasn’t enough. And the last thing they needed was to prove that to their parents.
So much for that.
Paintbrush let out a big sigh. Strangely enough the pit in their stomach kind of let up a bit. Not by much but noticeable enough to make Paintbrush feel a little bit normal. Just in time for them to feel emotions they most definitely did NOT want to feel. Whatever, they’ll take what they can get. One last hurrah, right?
“Well. Let’s just get this over with.” They inhaled slowly and exhaled heavily. And then made their way to the top floor.
When they were going over ideas of how they wanted to kill themself. They ranged in a lot of different ways. Going from a drug overdose to trying to get murdered. Too many plans ended with people making a big deal of it and some of them were just impractical. As much as Paintbrush loves being the center of attention, this isn’t exactly something that they wanted people to make a big deal about.
As much as they would just adore being known as the ‘high school tragedy’ they would rather not have the school name be tied down to their name as well. They’d rather be known for nothing than ever be pitied by strangers who barely know them. Pretending to care so they can check their ‘I’m still a good person’ box.
Over the past weeks, they discovered that the roof door was left unlocked after school. That was probably the only thing they were happy to learn about during tutoring. After exploring up there, they discovered there was a ledge that had a river below that you could fall perfectly into. They found it kind of strange how the construction workers thought that putting a school near a river was a good idea. But it was convenient for them so they weren’t going to complain.
And after concluding that it would be far away from the fields, they decided it was pretty much a perfect plan. Fall, splat, and then get whisked off into wherever they ended up. No pain and no body at a funeral. Hopefully they’d go missing for a few days until everyone stopped caring. And then the cycle continues. Probably get their story replaced by a water company accidently putting lead in the water. How? Who knows!
That’s just how it goes in small towns. Nothing happens and that’s the beauty of it. At least it was something Paintbrush could appreciate at times. The momentarily quiet moments of living here until they had to go home.
Home. God if you could even call it that. That place is a shitshow at its finest. They love their parents, they really do. But it’s hard to convince themself that their parents feel the same. They sure as hell have a strange way of showing it if they do. At least it was better than other people's situations. They never hit Paintbrush but that doesn’t take away the things that they did do. It took a while for paintbrush to realize that. And parts of them wish they didn’t. Might’ve made things easier for them, but they don’t regret it.
Their thoughts were stopped as soon as the door came into view. Suddenly it was eerily quiet. For some reason they half expected music to start playing like in films. But nope, there was just. Nothing.
A little bit disappointed, they collected their thoughts about the whole situation. This is really happening. Their last few minutes at most, start now. They don’t want to go back, but it’s just…surreal.
They reach for the door and turn the handle.
‘Oh what the fuck.’
Disappointment turned into confusion real fucking quick. Instead of the usual empty roof that they were hoping for, they instead found another person there. In the exact spot they were going to jump. Their legs already over the railing.
Paintbrush took a good look at the person. It was a girl they’ve seen around the school a couple times. They remember seeing her in the chorus room once when they were delivering papers for a teacher. She used to be a big chatter box but stopped randomly.
“Wait you’re microphone, right?” Paintbrush asked without thinking. Quickly the girl turned her head around to see them. Her eyes widening and she nearly lost her foot placement on the side of the building, but luckily her hand caught the railing. She steadied herself and then looked back at them.
“Why…did you follow me?!” She shouted. Her breath was unsteady. Clearly from almost falling but also probably from their presence. Going from 0 to 100 isn’t a nice feeling. They know it all too well after all.
“Uh, no?” It came out as a question on accident. Ah great more reason to kill themself, just what they needed. Paintbrush shook their hand. “Wait, just why are you up here?”
Microphone’s face morphed from scared to mildly angry. “I could ask the same to you! And besides you don’t own here, so technically it’s fine that I’m…here.” She kind of lost her edge at the end there.
“I mean- yeah? Technically? But I don’t think most would say that you being up here to…uh.” Paintbrush’s voice filtered out. Their throat closed up and the idea of saying it, just hurt? Whatever you call that pang in your heart you get sometimes, it’s that. But It's strange how you could say something so many times in your head, yet it becomes impossible when you try to say it out loud. Like it’s something that only you can know about, even if everyone else already knows. “…is okay.”
“Yeah…” she says softly, almost in a whisper-like state. “Listen, just how about this. Can you just pretend this never happened?” She asked, not seeming to be able to force herself to make eye contact. This sentence startled Paintbrush more than they were expecting it to.
“You what? Oh yeah because I’m just going to be able to go throughout my day if I walk away from this. Great thinking skills.” They stated sarcastically. “No. no I’m not just going to walk away. Look, I know we don’t know each other but I know you don’t have to do this. And quite frankly I’m rather pissed that you’re here but just-“
Suddenly words just stopped working. And instead the entire situation finally dawned on them. Maybe it was the stress from the past 24 hours or hell, even just the stress from the past 20 minutes. But common sense finally kicked in.
“Listen. I’m by far no expert on this stuff. But maybe, if you just talk about what’s going on. It’ll help you rethink?” Paintbrush offered, their voice a lot softer than it’s ever been in these past few months.Microphone’s face softened and she was quiet for a moment. Then she finally nodded.
“Yeah. Okay. I don’t like name dropping but you know of Taco right? Our grade, short, has a British accent, keeps to herself?” Microphone asked, eyes not even remotely close to where Paintbrush is.
Paintbrush took the description and tried to think of someone with those qualities. Oh yeah, they remember someone like that in their English class during freshman year. “Yes, I know of her. She was certainly a piece of work” they said the last part bitterly.
Microphone scoffed, “you could say that again.” She sighed. “Me and her were friends. We met outside of school and even went to each other's houses. And just, it was nice. I thought she was nice. But apparently after a year of bonding, she finally showed her true colors.”
“Uhuh. And then what happened?” They asked, trying their best to sound soothing. Not exactly sure if it was what they were achieving but it kept her talking.
“She was just using me to get her own goals. And it’s just rough because I thought I could trust her. She was the only person who was there for me. Or she seemed to be….”
“So, let me get this straight. You became friends with Taco and she pretended to be your friend. And then she was just using you. And now you feel like you have nobody?” They asked, trying to see if they got it right. From the quiet they received, it seemed they were right.
“Hm. Okay. Well, why don’t you just get more friends?” They didn’t realize before saying it, but it came out extremely blunt. Microphone glared at them.
“It’s not that simple to just get friends. You out of everyone knows that.” She said, bitterness coating every word that came out. Paintbrush raised an eyebrow at that.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” They glared right back at her. She rolled her eyes and sighed.
“I’m talking about all the fights you’ve been in. So obviously you know how difficult it is to connect with people here. I’m fairly sure a lot of them were dropped on their heads as kids.” She snickered at the last part she said. Paintbrush just stared unimpressed. Sure, she had a point. A lot of the kids who went to this school weren’t exactly the brightest of the bunch. But it's somehow better than how they were when they were all kids. In this society, you gotta keep your standards low and your expectations lower.
As for the fights. “I wouldn’t call them ‘fights’ necessarily, and even if they were, they all deserved it.” They snapped.
“Didn’t you punch a kid for drinking punch juice?” Her eyebrow raised and then soon creased inward, quietly and quickly saying “or was it grape?”
“It was apple.” They corrected, seeing microphone purse her lips at the statement. “But that’s not the point. Even if I don’t get along with them, it doesn't mean you can’t. Hell, I even found a friend among them.”
Microphone let out an unsure hum. “I don’t know.” Her fingers tightened around the railing. Paintbrush walked over to her. They made eye contact.
“You’ll never know if you don’t at least look.” They offered their hand to her. She stared at it, her eyes squinting a bit. “Getting over someone is tough. But it isn’t impossible. Find your person and I promise you, it will be like Taco never even existed.”
That seemed to click the right gears. She took Paintbrush’s hand and moved over the railings. There was a slight uncertainty in her face but it soothed over when she looked back at them.
Microphone cautiously moved her hand away from theirs. She clenched her fists together and gave them a small smile. “Thanks, for the advice…”
Paintbrush slightly nodded. “I would’ve felt shitty if I didn’t.” That stupid pang shot back again. They just ignored it.
Microphone rolled her eyes and moved to walk away. She reached the doors and then turned back to Paintbrush, “hey, next time you come up here. Think of your person. You have something I don’t have right now, don’t take them for granted.” And then that was it. The door shut.
“Hm.” They hummed disinterested. They turned back the railing and looked down.
And strangely enough they felt…bad. Not bad like how they usually felt. Like the world was on their shoulders and it was slowly suffocating them. But when they looked down, they felt their eyes sting and there was this foul taste in their mouth.
But why? They should want this?
They’re hands grip the bars of the fence. The damn fence that would be so easy to just hop over. If their body would just move.
But it’s not. And Paintbrush doesn’t know why.
They slowly bring their gaze to the stretched out sunset in the sky. Reds and blues mixing it to create a nice blend of purple. The sun’s usual radiant glow dying along the treeline.
They can’t help the scowl that morphs on their face. Nor the tears that prick their eyes.
“I fucking hate sunsets.”
It was around 8pm when they were in their neighborhood. They decided to take the extra long way for the scenery. Yep the scenery, for sure. Totally not because they were postponing seeing their parents. Okay maybe just a little because they were postponing seeing their parents. But there were other reasons too.
It was mostly just to collect their thoughts. But it turned less into collecting and more into fighting.
Today had been a lot and knowing it wasn’t over yet didn’t help. Like at all. Worst of all, they didn’t even accomplish the thing they spent months planning. And it was at such a good time too! If only Microphone wasn’t there then they would be gone and it would be FINE. But they weren’t dead and now someone knows they want to die. Great! Just great! Not to mention their tutor is hella suspicious of their home life. Double fucking great! Life really makes them wonder if it hates them. Wouldn't be too off brand so far.
Eventually, Paintbrush got to the house they’ve been dreading seeing. They sighed and opened the door to find their parents waiting in the kitchen. The two were seated at the table, both with equally upset faces.
“Care to explain?” Asked their mother. Her eyes clearly calmer than their father’s.
Paintbrush shrugged off their bag at the staircase and stood in front of their chair at the table. “You already know everything so what’s there to explain?” They crossed their arms.
“No. We want you to explain. You’ve spent months lying, we deserve an explanation at least.” She said sternly. Paintbrush kept their eyes locked on hers. It was something they learned that alleviated tension, even by the smallest amount. Something about ‘not paying attention’ from one of their past disagreements.
“I was struggling in math. It's not a big deal, I had it under control.” They stated, sounding a bit too bitter than what they were trying to go for.
“Not a big deal?!” She took a deep breath. “It would’ve been fine if you went for a few days. But apparently you've been going for months now. And if i remember correctly, you were the one who said that you were doing club activities. Taking tutoring classes isn’t exactly a club. Now is it?”
Paintbrush couldn’t help but avert their eyes to the floor. Somehow punishment seemed more preferable than seeing her disappointment. In a way, they’re the same thing. One is more avoidable than the other.
“It’s not. But it’s not like I wanted to be there in the first place!” Their fingers curled into fists. “I’ve been trying I swear I have-“
“Clearly not hard enough.” The voice seemed to make everything silent. Paintbrush looked up to see their dad glaring at them.
“Hun-“ their mother tried to intervene but she was quickly cut off by him again.
“No. It’s been months and you’ve done nothing but waste time. If you needed to get better, you should’ve tried harder. No excuses.” Every word sounded like a demand. Every word sounded true.
Paintbrush couldn’t look away. They knew they couldn’t. Looking away would mean defiance. Every part of them knew that wasn’t even close to being an option.
“Starting tomorrow you’re going to join a club. Something that will actually impact your future.” He crossed his arms. “Also your phone is being taken away for two weeks. I’d consider thanking your mother for that decision. If I had my way, it’d be completely gone for the rest of the year.”
Paintbrush looked at their mother for a moment. She looked in agreement with what he said. It shouldn’t have been as surprising as it was. But when they both made eye contact, it felt slightly like betrayal. Even if they never really had that close of a relationship with each other. It still hurt.
They could care less about her leeway. She was still on his side about this. Paintbrush didn’t have to thank her for shit.
They just simply nodded and began to walk away. They didn’t wait to see if their parents wanted to say anything else. It didn’t matter anyways, their parents were still going to be mad at them in the morning.
Paintbrush gathered their belongings they left near the door and headed up the stairs. Turning left and sped walked towards their bedroom door. After shutting the door, everything seemed to be heavy again. Their chest, their breaths.
They tossed their bag next to their dresser, not even looking to see if it was fine. Then promptly face planted into their pillow.
A part of them wondered if maybe they could suffocate themsellf with it. But there were multiple other thoughts that drowned that one out. First with tutoring and how they were going to handle that. And then with almost killing themself. And then Mic was brought into the equation. And lastly the loudest of them all was what their dad said.
It was all too overwhelming and they knew deep down that they should be sobbing or panicking. But, they just couldn’t bring themself to. The weight settled in their chest felt like a boulder. And somehow they found themself seeing it as comforting. Like a hug they knew they weren’t going to get anytime soon. It made everything feel far away and less present.
Words were screaming in their ears but it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter how hard they tried. It wasn't enough. They didn't work hard enough. They didn’t put in enough effort. Maybe that’s why they couldn’t jump. They just weren’t trying hard enough. If someone as dumb as them couldn’t even do something as easy as jump off a building. Then what could they do?
They turned their head a bit to look at the scrambled pile of papers on their desk. All of which were filled with words and pictures of what they could’ve gone with. Suddenly, one the paper was blown off the desk by their ceiling far. They looked down at it. They could only bring themself to grimace at the sight.
NOVEMBER 3RD
- FALL OFF BUILDING AND LAND IN RIVER
It was the idea they picked last night. It was circled in red marker and everything. So much for that plan…
Paintbrush turned their head back to the pillow. They could faintly hear their parents bickering from downstairs. Everything just fizzled into white noise from there.
They let their eyes close and exhaustion take over their body.