Đọc truyện despondency ; setosolace

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despondency

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"How are you today, Brice?"

"I'm alright, I guess."

The two sat by sat on a hillside that was near Brice's house. The sun was close to setting, the stars that were beginning to show were sparkling, dazzling together as if in a show. Brice's eyes shifted down to the grass, playing with it.

"Grass—it's green." The blond murmured, "And the sky looks pink today—like your blush on a cold December morning."

Seto smiled, running his hand through Brice's tangled, messy hair, "I guess it is."

"And," he replied, "the clouds looked faded and gray, like the smoke from a fire. It's pretty, it's really pretty."

"Mm," Seto nodded.

"I'm lucky to have you," the blond looked up, "out of the billions and billions of people on earth you're here, and I'm thankful for that."

"I'm happy you're here too, Brice." Seto murmured, the breeze picking up.

***

Brice stepped into the house and took off his shoes at the door. His mother looked angry, her face bright red and flushed. Her arms were crossed, and the wrinkles on her forehead increased. Brice's soft, pale blue eyes looked up to see this. He knew this expression very well. It was anger—his mother was angry at him for something.

"Where have you been?" She questioned.

"I was with Seto," Brice released an exasperated sigh, not in the mood to talk to her.

"It's late. How come you couldn't talk to 'Seto' in your room?"

"My room?" Brice perked up. "He can't come over into my room, he has a life too."

Her gaze softened as she shook her head.

Disappointment.

"Your appointment tomorrow is at 9:30 with Dr. Dahlberg, wake up early this time."

Brice nodded and headed up the stairs and into his room.

***

Quiet.

The room was quiet as Brice waited for Dr. Dahlberg to step in.

Dr. Dahlberg was someone he visited frequently for his "condition." It was strange. He was a big man with curly hair, a scruffy beard, and glasses that were sometimes replaced with sunglasses that also doubled as eyepatches. He wore an amulet that was bright golden and purple. He was a nice guy, generally.

"Hello, Brice," the psychiatrist greeted as he stepped into the room and shut the door. The blond peeked up from his phone and shoved it into his pocket. He wasn't allowed to have a phone with him, but Dr. Dahlberg allowed it.

"Hello," Brice nodded. His eyes followed Dr. Dahlberg as he went to take a seat in the big chair that was across from him. It felt like an interview with the "professionalism" of the place.

"Would you like some candy?"

Brice went silent, thinking, "...lollipop, please."

"You can never be too old for a lollipop," Dr. Dahlberg smiled as he handed the blond a small lollipop. Cherry flavored—Brice liked cherry.

"Thank you," Brice whispered as he opened the wrapper and shoved the lollipop into his mouth. He liked to suck on it and chew on the stick while Dr. Dahlberg talked.

"Your mother says that you were out late last night with Seto." Dr. Dahlberg was the only one who said Seto's name without some kind of caution, or fear. Well, sometimes.

Brice nodded once more, "Yeah. He's my best friend and I wanted to spend time with him."

"Your mother doesn't like you staying out late, you know that Brice."

"She doesn't like Seto either."

"She has her reasons."

The blond bit his lip unintentionally, "I know."

"Did he interact with you in any shape or form?" Dr. Dahlberg reached for a notebook and began messily writing something in cursive. He probably meant Seto.

"He touched my hair, I liked that," Brice imagined Seto's smile as his scrawny fingers touched his own hair. He liked the sensation.

"Oh?" Dr. Dahlberg replied.

"Yeah."

"What about..." the psychiatrist's voice trailed off, "did he reveal anything about himself to you?"

"He's secretive and caring. You asked me this yesterday, though."

"I'm just interested in your—" he took a pause, "friend."

"Best friend."

"Right."

"Why does my mother not like the idea of me being with him?"

Dr. Dahlberg frowned for a moment as he began to jot some some notes, "You see Brice, a sixteen year old talking about his imaginary friend may scare a mother—"

"Seto is real," Brice interrupted.

He did that frown that Brice had always seen throughout his life. "We've been through this, Brice. You're here because you're seeing things. Seto isn't—"

"He's real." Brice repeated, insisting on the fact.

Brice knows he's real.

Dr. Dahlberg just gave up with arguing about the boy.

***

"What did they say, Brice?" Seto asked as he sat down with some juice boxes. Brice took one. Cherry—he liked that flavor.

"He kept saying you aren't real," Brice frowned. He began to pick at the grass again. "No one believes me."

"It's okay, as long as I'm here you know I'm real," Seto smiled, humming as he rested his chin on Brice's shoulder.

"Have you gone home yet? You can't just keep living out here."

Seto's face went a lighter shade of white, more lighter than usual, "My parents always argue. I'd rather not talk about it."

"Oh," was all that Brice could say.

"Mm," Seto nodded, biting his lip much like Brice did a few hours ago.

"My mom doesn't like me outside with you that much. She wants to meet you."

"Brice, you know I can't go to your house. I don't like seeing people—other than you of course."

"When will you be coming home with me, then? We've known each other since we were kids, I think it would be good for my mom to see you."

"Brice, I'm sorry, but let's just keep it between the two of us for now, okay?"

"Okay."

***

Brice made sure to close the door quietly this time. He took off his shoes and strolled into the living room in his socks.

"Mom, I'm home," Brice called out.

"Good, you're early this time," Brice's mother came walking out of the kitchen in her pink robe that dragged past her knees. She wore pink open-toed flip flops in the house. Brice never exactly knew why she did. "Come, let's eat. You need to take your medicine."

"Why do I need to take medicine? I'm okay." Brice frowned as he took a couple steps closer towards his mother.

"You're not okay, Brice," she cooed, stroking her son's head. "It's so that you can stop seeing things. It will also help with your insomnia and anxiety."

"But Seto is real. I'm perfectly okay, I can sleep and I'm not nervous."

"The doctors say that you're not okay. Now, come, I made your favorite."

"Is it a grilled cheese sandwich?"

"Yes. Now come eat."

For the first time in weeks, Brice sat down with his mother at the dinner table and ate a grilled cheese sandwich. His mother looked like she was going to break into tears.

***

Brice stayed awake that night looking at the ceiling like he always did. The doctors he visited described insomnia as when you couldn't sleep. Brice could sleep, he just didn't feel like it on a daily basis. It didn't really impact his health, he was perfectly fine. Why couldn't everyone else see that he was just a normal sixteen year old boy?

"Hi Brice," he heard a small voice peep from his window.

Brice always left his window open, he liked feeling the soft breeze in his house. He also left it open for Seto, in case he would decide to drop by during the night here and there. Brice stood up and opened the window a bit more so Seto could climb in. Now the two were sitting in the floor.

"Hi Seto," Brice smiled, hugging the brunet.

"Your room is dark, why don't you turn on the lights?" Seto asked.

"My mom will get angry like usual," Brice huffed.

"Unfortunate," Seto sighed.

"I want to see your face, though. It's pretty—beautiful."

"You—you really think so?" Brice could imagine the feathery pink blush that would be on Seto's pale face.

"Yeah, I do," he nodded in agreement to himself. "I do, Seto."

Seto giggled, "I think you're beautiful, too."

"I don't know what I did to deserve you. I love you so much, Seto."

"I love you too, Brice."

And just like that, the two boys spent the whole night talking to each other on that wooden floor. Brice's eyes felt heavy for the first time in weeks and he had eventually fallen asleep on the floor at 6:34 in the morning. Seto was at his side, stroking his hair the whole time.

***

"Your mother said she heard you talking to yourself at 3 in the morning."

Brice blinked, thinking, 'Mother heard me?'

He shook his head, "Seto snuck into my room and we talked all night. He fell asleep then I fell asleep I think. Or maybe it was the other way around."

"But she found you sleeping on the floor by yourself."

"No, Seto was there. He was there the whole time. He called me beautiful." Brice gave a goofy grin as he sucked on a grape flavored lollipop. He hated the flavor grape, but it was all Dr. Dahlberg had left.

"Back to what I was saying before, I'm going to assign you new medication," he took out a notepad, a weird one that was specifically designed for prescriptions.

"But my old medication was okay. It was changing me, though, and I don't want that to happen. I'm okay."

The psychiatrist didn't look convinced, "Brice, I'm sorry, I know you don't want to do this but your mother is worried about your health. It's the right thing to do. I'm prescribing you medication related to insomnia, anxiety, depression, dementia—"

"But I don't need it, I'm perfectly fine!" Brice shouted, frustrated.

Why can't anyone listen to him?

***

The two boys met in the forest that night. Brice was carving into a tree to release his anger. Seto was pacing back and fourth behind him.

D-E-S-P-O-N-D-E-N-C-Y

"You like that word, don't you?" Seto looked over the blond's shoulder with interest.

"Yeah. Not as much as I like you, though," Brice mindlessly replied with as he carved another 'D.'

"What did the psychiatrist say, this time?" Seto crunched his nose.

"He's assigning me way more medication that's even more potent." Brice angrily carved another word.

D-E-S-P-O-N-D-E-N-C-Y

"They still think you're not real."

D-E-S-P-O-N-D-E-N-C-Y

"I hate them for that, they never believe me."

D-E-S-P-O-N-D-E-N-C-Y

His carvings were messy and going at a faster pace into the oak tree. "They want me to forget you."

D-E-S-P-O-N-D-E-N-C-Y

"When my dad died you were the only one who could understand me, and you were the only one who was there for me."

D-E-S-P-O-N-D-E-N-C-Y

"You started appearing more and more I love you for that. You've been with me for almost nine years now."

D-E-S-P-O-N-D-E-N-C-Y

"They always think it's because I'm missing my dad, they think you're just a way to cope."

D-E-S-P-O-N-D-E-N-C-Y

"They diagnosed me with so many mental disorders but they can't understand that I'm perfectly okay! Can't I have a best friend!"

D-E-S-P-O-N-D-E-N-C-Y

"I hate them for that! I hate them so much because they don't understand what I'm going through! You're the only one who understands Seto, the only one!"

D-E-S-P-O-N-D-E-N-C-Y

He stabbed the knife deep into the tree and gave an exasperated sigh as he fell down onto the ground. He hugged his knees. Seto went down to comfort the blond. He hugged him. A hug that was so tight and comforting Brice didn't want him to ever let go.

"Why can't everyone understand that you're real!"

***

"You look like a mess."

"I was crying and Seto was the only one who could comfort me, thanks for asking mom." Brice snapped. He wasn't in the mood to talk to her. He actually was never in the mood to see her, but he had always tolerated it. Now wasn't the time.

"Brice—" she cooed, "I'm sorry."

Brice wiped his eyes, peeking up, "Y-You—"

"Tell me how Seto looks like, and tell me his personality."

***

Brice was sitting next to his mother for the first time in years at the psychiatrist.

He could tell Dr. Dahlberg was just as astonished as he was.

"So, Brice," Dr. Dahlberg straightened his posture, "your mother claims that—"

"He was there," Brice replied, sternly.

"Brice, we need you to understand that Seto isn't real," Dr. Dahlberg frowned. "When your father died—"

"He's a real person who's actually here for me."

"Brice," his mother then spoke up, "Dr. Dahlberg is right. When your father died your condition got worse. Dementia usually impacts old people, not young but in your case it does—"

"I don't care what you say, he's real and I know for a fact he is," Brice retorted.

Stubborn.

"You say that he has..." the psychiatrist trailed off, "...mocha colored eyes, brunet fluffy hair, and pale skin? He's also not quite as tall as you and has a silky voice...?"

"Yes," Brice nodded in agreement. "That's him."

His mother and the psychiatrist eyed each other.

"Brice, could you please leave the room for a moment? Your mother and I need to talk."

Hesitantly, the blond stood up and left the room, softly shutting the door behind him.

***

"Your mom came with you to the psychiatrist?"

"I'm just as shocked as you. She even asked how you looked like and she allowed me to stay later out here."

"Weird."

"Yeah."

The two nodded in agreement. They were having a picnic on the hillside. The wind blew softly and the trees swayed in a quiet motion. Leaves twirled around them as if dancers. Brice bit into a sandwich Seto had made.

"Tastes good," Brice smiled, mouth full. Seto's face flushed a light shade of pink.

"T-Thanks," he stammered. "I like to cook."

"You do?"

"Yeah—"

"That's cool! My mom doesn't let me even touch the stove."

Seto gave a light chuckle, "I should teach you how to cook, someday."

"Yeah, that would be nice."

***

Brice sat on the living room couch, reading a book his mother picked up at the store. She claimed it would be something of "interest" to him, and it was. School of Creation it was called, an interesting plot and twists at every angle, but at the same time a very messy story plot that connected to one central idea. He was currently home alone, he waited for his mother to come back with his new medicine.

He heard the door unlock and he perked up like a dog.

"Brice, I'm home."

Speak of the devil.

He set down his book. He saw his mother carrying arms of groceries. She strolled into the kitchen and set them down, then went to go sit with her son.

"So, how's everything with Seto?"

Brice frowned, he didn't expect his mother to be so interested, "It's okay."

"How do you view Seto—is he your best friend or maybe more than a friend?"

"You're starting to sound like Dr. Dahlberg, mom."

"I'm just wondering."

Brice thought for a moment. What did he truly think of Seto? He thought he was his best friend, but he felt like he should be something more than that. Seto is an astonishing person, and Brice always wanted him to be around.

"I like Seto," Brice concluded.

"Like?"

"Yeah, like like—it's the kind of like how you and dad were. What did you call it? Love?"

His mother looked like she just got shot as Brice concluded.

"Yeah, I love Seto."

***

"Your mother is telling me you're in love with Seto?" Dr. Dahlberg asked in disbelief. He passed Brice a large chocolate bar.

"Yeah, I do. Does she have a thing against gay people?" Brice questioned, ripping open the chocolate bar.

"I don't think that's the case, Brice," Dr. Dahlberg frowned deeply. "You know Seto isn't real, right?"

Brice was enraged.

Why couldn't they accept the fact that he had feelings for someone he spent most of his life with?

Why were their skulls so fucking thick?

He pushed his chair out, dropped the chocolate bar out of his hand, stood up, and left the room. He slammed the door behind him, the last words he heard from Dr. Dahlberg's mouth was, "Brice—!"

***

"You just—left?" Seto was listening to Brice's explanation. "Why?"

"They still think you aren't real, but I know you're real!" Brice shouted, tears streaming down his face. His ears and nose were bright red, and his eyes stung from the salty tears that had been streaming down his face for the past half-hour.

"What did you tell them?" Seto interrogated.

"I told them that I love you." Brice put it simply as that as he turned towards the brunet. "I love you so much, Seto. It physically pains me of how much I love you, and I just want to—"

Without thinking, Brice planted his lips against the brunet's own. They were soft, smooth, and tasted of strawberries, chocolate, and vanilla. Seto peeped in surprise, but went along and wrapped his arms around Brice's neck. It was bliss, Brice felt like part of him was waiting for this moment for all his life. It finally came, but at what cost?

They both pulled away, faces bright red and smiling.

"I love you so much, Seto," Brice concluded, as he pulled him into a hug. The brunet rested his chin on Brice's shoulder, he too liked the feeling.

"I love you too, Brice, and I'll never leave you."

***

Brice didn't go home that night, instead he stayed with Seto in his hideaway. It was a broken down treehouse the two had found as children, and it still managed to stay intact. The two sat on the floor playing checkers while music blared in the background.

"I win," Seto smiled as he captured Brice's last piece. The game was currently tied, Seto won twice in a row and so did Brice.

The blond chuckled, "Oh, how do I compare to the king of checkers?" He stood up and bowed down to the brunet. Seto giggled.

"I think we should call it a night," Seto replied, gathering up all the piece and putting them into a plastic bag.

"I'll win tomorrow for sure," Brice stated as he grabbed the checkers board and placed it on the shelf. Seto passed Brice the bag since he was too short to reach the top without a step stool.

"Hey Brice," Seto tugged at the blond's shirt.

"Yeah?" He replied, stepping away from the shelf and facing towards the short brunet.

"Are—" he began in quite the stutter, "—are you sure about this? I mean, with everything that's going on in your life and I just—"

"Seto, don't worry, it's okay," Brice gave a soft smile while ruffling his hair.

Soft like a puppy's fur. Brice's hand felt each individual strand of hair.

Seto shook his head, breaking into a fit of giggles while squeezing the blond tightly. He felt it, Seto is real—he's hugging him right now. The right squeeze, the wrinkles on his shirt, the creaking of the floor, the sudden shift of weight; it is all real.

Everything is real.

Everything is real!

But—why does it feel like it's too good to be true?

***

Brice woke up the next morning with a light weight on his stomach. He breathed slowly, lifting up his head from the pillow he laid on to see a jumble of sheets and brunet hair. He smiled to himself, "Seto," was all that came out of his mouth as an incoherent whisper.

He didn't want to wake the sleeping boy up, but he wanted to check what time it was. Reaching over to the wooden floor, he managed to grab his phone. It looked it it had been ringing all night, he missed multiple calls from his mother, and oddly his different aunts. He put his phone down and released an exasperated sigh.

"They're looking for you, correct?" Brice was surprised to hear a groggy voice speak, as well as the sudden change in weight that was on his stomach.

"Yeah," Brice confessed, frowning.

"You should go, if I was a parent I'd be worried about you too. You were gone all night after all."

Brice gulped, nodding, "I'm sorry."

"No—you shouldn't be," Seto frowned, placing a kiss on Brice's forehead, "I'm sorry."

***

Brice entered his home that morning with a feeling of shame and guilt washed over him like a consuming tidal wave.

"Brice!" His mother shouted eagerly as she wrapped her arms around her son into a tight hug, much like Seto did a day prior.

"Hi mom," was all that came flooding out his mouth. His blue eyes roamed around for a moment. He saw his Aunt Marie standing to the side, seeming to be talking on the phone with someone. "Hi Aunt Marie."

"Hello, Brice, nice to see you back," she hollered out from across the room.

Brice's mother eventually let go of his son, then scolding him, "Where were you, I was worried sick about you!"

"Your mentally retarded son went to go see his friend," Brice muttered monotonously. He heard Aunt Marie snicker.

"You aren't mentally retarded—"

"With all the medication and the people I'm seeing would likely state otherwise."

The same snicker was heard. Brice shifted aside, rolling his eyes.

"Brice, you're grounded. Don't ever try to sneak out."

With that, the blond took off his shoes, bolted up the stairs, and slammed the door. One moment his mother was happy to see him and the next she seemed to despise his presence. He went to open the window but it appeared to be bolted shut, how smart.

His room was completely empty, all his supplies were moved out—probably to the basement. There was a white rug that would most likely get stained very quickly, some art supplies, a bed with fresh new sheets, and some dirty shirts on the floor. His bookshelves, his T.V., his fucking nightstand were all gone.

Maybe his mother didn't trust her mentally disabled kid anymore.

With that thought, he reached for the newly bought sketchbook and began to write.

D-E-S-P-O-N-D-E-N-C-Y

Scribbled it all over the page.

D-E-S-P-O-N-D-E-N-C-Y

Dark, bolded letters that described his emotions.

D-E-S-P-O-N-D-E-N-C-Y

Ripping through the first page of the sketchbook with ease, graphite easily sniffing everywhere.

D-E-S-P-O-N-D-E-N-C-Y

The crinkle of the paper didn't soothe him.

D-E-S-P-O-N-D-E-N-C-Y

His mind drew towards the kiss now; like a microscope in sharp focus.

D-E-S-P-O-N-D-E-N-C-Y

He kissed Seto, and Seto kissed him back.

D-E-S-P-O-N-D-E-N-C-Y

How was he going to see Seto?

D-E-S-P-O-N-D-E-N-C-Y

How was he going to see Seto?

D-E-S-P-O-N-D-E-N-C-Y

How was he going to see Seto?

D-E-S-P-O-N-D-E-N-C-Y

If Seto did come then he would have to break the window to get in.

D-E-S-P-O-N-D-E-N-C-Y

Brice looked up to hear a click of the doorknob; his mother locked him in.

D-E-S-P-O-N-D-E-N-C-Y

Brice began hyperventilating, each thought leading from one to another.

D-E-S-P-O-N-D-E-N-C-Y

He wrote the words down in such boldness, attempting to calm himself.

D-E-S-P-O-N-D-E-N-C-Y

98 times.

Brice counted 98 words.

98 words on the page.

98 words. 1078 letters.

Brice passed out.

***

Brice found himself sitting at Dr. Dahlberg's office, drowsy and half awake. It was evening already, way beyond the psychiatrist's normal hours. His mother claimed it was an emergency meeting once she found her son passed out on the floor with the word "Despondency" messily scribbled onto a page 98 times.

"Despondency," Dr. Dahlberg broke the silence, "low spirits from loss of hope or courage; dejection."

"Seto taught me that word, he told me to write it whenever I was angry," Brice muttered, tempted to scribble on his wrists.

"He loved to draw when he was younger, I thought it could have helped him," Brice's mother croaked, voice sore and eyes watery.

"Brice, please realize that Seto isn't real, we've been saying that to you for the past few years now. Please, for the sake of yourself and your mother, learn to forget him."

Brice widened his eyes, a frown turning into a sick cackle, "Forget? I fucking kissed him, he hugged me. He is real, I felt all of it, and it made me feel like I am normal, feel like I am not some fucking disease!"

Brice slammed his hands against the table and stormed out. Just as he was about to slam the door, he heard the faintest of voices speaking.

"I'm going to assign him stronger medication."

***

Brice found himself sobbing into a pillow that night. The door was locked, the windows were bolted shut, his room was more like a cage. He couldn't see Seto, he couldn't go up to him and feel him. He couldn't feel his body heat; he wants him back so badly. He wanted out of his room, he wanted out of this fucking mess.

His mother didn't give him anything. He was like a prisoner; he had nothing but a bed and an empty room. He wanted to feel air so badly, he wanted some type of interaction with someone other than his mother. But here he was, caged.

Maybe his mother was right, and maybe he was just the crazy one.

Maybe Seto didn't exist like they said, and maybe he was just mentally unstable.

Maybe nothing was real, and maybe it was all just a sick joke played constantly on replay before his eyes.

Maybe he was a fuck up in the end, and maybe if his father didn't die then he wouldn't have met Seto.

Maybe he could have had some proper friends, and maybe he wouldn't be homeschooled.

Maybe life would have been better without his father dying, and maybe, just maybe, Brice wouldn't have had to experience this much pain within just a day's timespan.

***

The pills were adding up. Brice took so many pills that it almost filled up the whole pantry. Once a day, twice a day—every fucking day. It had been a week since Brice was deprived from the outside world, from everything that was keeping him insane, from Seto.

The pills—the pills made him feel things.

He no longer felt dizzy, he was more calm and collected. His actions were calm, like his real self was gone and something else was controlling him. His emotions changed, he didn't want to feel happy but his body forced him to feel happy. He was watching himself do all these things and he couldn't stop any of it. His body wouldn't let him.

Dr. Dahlberg and his mother called this "improvement." It was like a euphoria to the both of them; a sudden wave of relief that Brice could possibly be a properly functioning member of society—without Brice's own opinion. It drove him so insane that he was just a third-person spectator, he didn't want this.

He didn't want any of this.

He didn't want any of this.

HE DIDN'T WANT ANY OF THIS.

HE DIDN'T WANT ANY OF THIS!

DON'T WANT—

DON'T WANT, DON'T WANT, DON'T WANT!

Brice felt his emotions slipping away so easily.

The pills controlled him, and there was nothing he could do about it.

***

Two weeks.

His mother trusted his not-so-disabled son to go outside after two weeks.

Brice was so eager, he wanted to taste that air and run freely like he did before. He wanted to regain all of his senses, all the things he lost while he was cooped up in his prison cell. He wanted to feel Seto's touch again, he wanted to forget all of the pills he took. He wanted to break free, he didn't want to be controlled.

All it took was two weeks for everything to go back into his room, the window to not be bolted shut, his sketchbook to be back on the floor, two weeks for trust to settle in.

Two weeks.

Two weeks of painful conversations under his false self with Dr. Dahlberg and his mother, who both called his behavior "improvement."

His mother let him put on his shoes and go back to the world in which he belonged in. He's been away for so long; two weeks without the proper nourishment from the outside world felt like an eternity for Brice. The pills were so drowning in that room, but to Brice the outside world meant a possible cure.

He was so ready, he wanted to get out, but his body stopped him.

His body made him hesitate.

He tried to lunge himself foreword, he tried to run out there and be free. The sun was shining down so brightly that it physically hurt him to see that he couldn't get out there. It physically hurt him so much more than all of his pills.

"Brice, what's wrong?" Brice's mother questioned, frowning. "I thought this was what you want."

His mind screamed so much that he felt like he was going to go deaf.

WANT.

His body screamed in a way that it was so paralyzing.

DON'T WANT.

"I'm not ready to go out there yet," Brice shook his head and turned away from the open door. His mind screamed in agony—he screamed in agony;

On the inside.

WANT.

NEED.

Brice's body turned away from the door, took off his shoes, and dashed up the stairs.

***

That night his window was wide open and the wind howled as if it was screaming at him so violently at his idiocy. He wanted it so badly, but his body refused. It was like he was hesitating, but with no hesitation. Breathing, but not at the same time. He was drowning, but staying afloat.

Nothing made sense.

He threw his pillow across the room in anger. It hit the wall and went onto the floor. There he laid on the mattress; cold, not well rested, and stressed. His body was tired, his mind wasn't. His body wasn't ready, but his mind was.

His body was his own prison cell, and he wanted an escape.

He forced himself to get up that evening. His body screamed in a way that it was physically degrading to drag himself towards the screaming window. He pulled himself, lugged himself, urged himself to make it.

Go.

Go.

He climbed out the window and never felt so alive.

***

He spent that night running around under the silver strip of moonlight. He didn't go to the forest, he stuck near the house. Normally his mind would have let him run as far as he wanted to, but the pills controlled his body. His body, and the pills, forced him to stay nearby his house, even though there was the possibility of getting himself caught.

He giggled to himself as he ended off the night by laying down in the grass, feeling the dirt on his back and his skin, and the grass against him, swaying gently and happily. He felt like he belonged again, it left his mind so happy but his body so afraid.

Happiness comes at a cost, Brice understood that perfectly.

The pills still controlled him for the most part, but his mind was still fighting to set him free.

***

That next day, Brice was ready to head out again. It was raining the next day, almost as if the skies were crying. Brice said took his pills, said his short goodbye to his mother, and headed out the front door like it was nothing.

It truly was nothing, actually.

He didn't know what to do, he wanted to see Seto but at the same time he felt so ashamed. The pills were kicking him in the stomach again, it was just a huge punch to the temples. Brice shook his head, eager to reach the forest and, to hopefully, see Seto.

Nature was so beautiful, Brice liked to surround himself in it. The trees swayed slowly as the raindrops came down like bullets from the heavens. The leaves looked like fine pieces of art on their own; the crisp water droplets. The air smelled damp, and it was humid. Brice knew he was going to get sick like this, but he didn't care. Wet or dry he was happy either way; Brice found his euphoria.

He eventually reached the forest, then gazed at the tree he marked. It still had the knife pierced into it, and it reminded him of his past. He counted how many times he wrote "Despondency."

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

Six.

Seven.

Eight.

Nine.

Ten.

Eleven.

Twelve.

Thirteen.

13 words.

143 letters.

1 knife.

Brice traced his finger at each stroke he had taken, feeling the oak wood pierce into his pill-filled skin.

His mind drew back farther as he searched around—it was back to square one.

The kiss.

The kiss.

He tried to recall what Seto had tasted like, most likely a combination of strawberries, vanilla, and chocolate. He specifically recalled Seto's tomato red face, and the goofy grin that was spread across his face. He longed for that day to come back, but it couldn't.

It just couldn't.

His stomach was churning and his thoughts came to an abrupt stop. He stood in the forest, feeling the bullets from the sky rain down harder than it ever did before.

Seto.

Where was he?

***

Four weeks.

It had been four weeks.

Two weeks since Brice had visited the forest, and four weeks ever since he had started those pills. Four weeks since he last saw Seto, and four weeks that were filled with moments of euphoria and hardship.

Brice felt so alone, but the pills kept him living.

The pills were all he had, it was just so simple.

The pills kept him so alive; so awake like it was better than any high.

He didn't expect the fourth week to change; the fourth week would mark a month.

A fucking month had gone by without seeing Seto.

Dr. Dahlberg said Brice's recovery was phenomenal, and his mother couldn't be so happy. Brice's mother was signing him up for public school, something that was Brice was so excited for yet dreaded.

He would start public school next week, and that would be when he would be so occupied that thought of Seto would have probably been erased from his head—much like Dr. Dahlberg and his mother wanted. The word "Despondency" would have left with Seto too; no traces of the two would be in his head.

Brice didn't want that.

He didn't want that at all.

But yet, a small voice inside of him wanted this so much. He wanted to let go of Seto and let go of the past that suffocated him to the point of no return—drowning.

Drowning.

Drowning.

***

He reflected back on his past, and then it came to him.

It was the evening.

11:58PM.

It came to him.

Seto's last words to him.

Seto's last words to Brice.

His voice croaking, his tears brimming, and his whole fragile body shaking. The image was wildly vivid. Brice didn't comfort Seto, he didn't even acknowledge what he said to him.

Seto's last words to Brice, as of four weeks, was "I'm sorry."

Brice should have said those words.

Brice should have said "I'm sorry," to Seto.

Brice shouldn't have left it like that.

It took him four god damned weeks to realize that he left Seto alone with the words, "I'm sorry." It would seem insignificant to most, but to Brice it meant the world.

Brice should have been the one who was sorry.

That night Brice stayed awake in bed, his eyes shifting around with fear and guilt sweeping over him like a tidal wave.

Brice should have been the one who was sorry.

Brice should have been the one who was sorry.

BRICE SHOULD HAVE BEEN THE ONE WHO WAS SORRY!

He screamed to his pillow and hugged it so tightly that it physically ached his arms and his lungs.

***

Brice rushed to the forest that morning, eager and hoping to see Seto. Both his body and his mind were at a solid state; they both needed to see Seto.

"Seto!" Brice cried out so loud that the ends of the earth could have heard it. "Seto!"

"Seto!"

He ran through the forest, his voice echoing loudly.

"Seto!"

His screams were too loud, clearly showing desperation.

"Seto!"

His legs and body were beginning to grow weary of running, but he knew he had to keep going.

"Seto!"

It was for Seto, he needed to do this for Seto.

"Seto!"

Brice left Seto alone for a whole month, what kind of a friend was he?

"Seto!"

Did Seto even consider Brice as a friend at this point?

"Seto!"

Did Seto still love Brice?

"Seto!"

His mind shifted back to the time when Brice vented out to him.

"Seto!"

Seto promised never to leave Brice.

"Seto!"

Seto promised to never leave Brice.

"Seto!"

Seto promised to never leave Brice.

"Seto!"

Brice left Seto.

"Seto!"

Brice should have made a promise.

"Seto!"

Brice should have made a promise.

"Seto!"

Brice should have made a promise.

"Seto!"

And now his words were fumbling off his tongue with little to no meaning.

Worthless.

Despondent.

***

After countless of hours of running and screaming, he found the brunet. He was physically there just as he remembered him. Brunet hair, pale skin, mocha colored eyes, pale pink lips, chubby cheeks, a frame that was perfectly skinny, and attire that was sizes too big.

"Seto—" Brice croaked out, his voice sore. Seto looked up, his eyes red and brimming with tears. The tears had already broke the barrier as soon as their gazes locked. Brice wanted to hug him, but it felt so wrong.

"Where were you?" Seto started off the conversation with that.

Brice stayed silent.

"You—" he stuttered, breaking down, "you were gone for a whole month Brice."

"Seto I—"

"Am I that easy to forget, Brice?"

"Seto—"

"I saw you that night. I saw you rolling around in the grass being so happy and blissful. I saw that you forgot about me."

"Seto, I just—"

"I live in the world of black and white, colors that are so fucking bland and painful to look at. I wanted you so badly, I loved you so badly to the point where I was so love sick. I thought you were solace, but in the end you're nothing but anguish."

The pills took over Brice. He was angry, confused, saddened even, but the pills took over him. The pills made him think differently, and it would be the pills' fault for making him speak like that.

"Fucking listen to me!" Brice shouted. His mind helplessly watched his body act. Seto looked up, so surprised and filled with fear, almost like an abandoned puppy.

"You aren't real! I've realized that all along, everything between us is fake! You're so fucking fake and it's not even funny. You're not real, you never were real and you never will. You were something to me Seto, when I was so fucking delusional and mentally disabled; but now I realize why my mother didn't want me near you—why my mother took me to see Dr. Dahlberg. Why I take so much pills, and why she locked me away in my room for so fucking long. You wanna know why?"

Seto's tears flowed down like a waterfall.

"It's because you aren't fucking real—I was so ignorant not to see that. I'm no longer mentally fucked, like they said I improved myself. I am a better person without you, now get out of my fucking sight."

Brice shut his eyes tightly. He focused, and once he opened his eyes Seto was gone. He smiled, laughed even, to himself.

Seto was gone.

Seto was gone.

And Brice was happy.

***

It took a couple days for the realization to sink in. Little by little, everything fit into place. Regret and guilt hung over him like a shadow; it was suffocating.

It just hit him so badly that it wasn't even funny, it hurt too much.

It was a Saturday and Brice didn't take any of his pills. He realized he had broke Seto so badly, and he realized that he needed Seto so badly.

Need.

He was a terrible person for doing that. Seto disappeared into thin air and off the face of the earth; Brice was so fucking delusional but he needed Seto back.

His voice was still sore from the days prior on his hunt for the brunet, and he was going to force himself to make it worse. He snuck out that evening, crying so much that he could have filled a river and drowned the whole world.

Need.

He ran past the oak tree, the tree house, the spot where he found Seto crying; the places that brought back memories that pained him to much and filled him with regret.

He found Seto's purple lighter on the ground. Brice stared at it, the voices in his head screaming. He needed to let them all out, he needed to let them all speak.

"SETO WHERE ARE YOU!" Brice shouted, falling on his knees and burying his head into his hands. "I'VE LEARNED MY LESSON COME BACK! APPEAR!"

Silence.

A gentle breeze came back.

He picked up the lighter and collapsed onto his side. He mindlessly flicked at it, turning it on and catching the grass on fire. He laid there, helpless and weary. He shut his eyes, hearing the crackle of the flames spreading across the forest floor.

"Seto—" he croaked, shutting his eyes and letting his consciousness slip, "please."

The warmth of the forest increased, it was burning. He inhaled the smoke, and awaited the death.

He deserved it.

He deserved it.

He opened his eyes and saw the fire raging in the forest—it was wiping away all the horrible memories for him. His vision was blurring, and he felt himself slipping. Both his body and his mind were at peace together; a neutral agreement of death and suffering. He wanted to die—and this was the place to do it.

D-E-S-P-O-N-D-E-N-C-Y

86 times.

Brice counted 86 words.

86 words that were repeated in his head.

86 words. 946 letters.

Brice passed out.

And this time, he didn't wake up—and there was no one to find him.

***

Brice's funeral took place a month later when they finally identified his burnt body amongst the ashes. His funeral was in front of the forest where the burning commenced—Brice's suicide. Everything burned in that forest; now it was just a simple clearing of ashes. They were planning to plant an oak tree in Brice's memory, along with a tombstone that would have a simple epitaph reading, "Nothing lasts forever."

Every single one of Brice's relatives showed up at that funeral, and most pitied Brice's mother. Dr. Dahlberg was there too—he was crying.

As the funeral drew to a close, the priest spoke slowly.

"Would anyone like to say something in memory for Brice Purton?"

A short boy with brunet hair, pale skin, pale pink lips, mocha colored eyes, a cubby face, and a skinny frame raised his hand and stood up.

"I would."

the end.

| 9,466 words |

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