wl_fanfiction | Help is Round the Corner, Chapter 8 (Part 2) (Reply)

It's like i was just here. I apologize for clogging comm and whatnot. Heh
Title: Help is Round the Corner, Part 2 <-seriously? I know!
Rating: R
Warning: Is there character death? is there?
Pairing:Chip/Ryan and Other stuff?! I know!
Note: Timeline be screwy

Jeff sang slow, completely out of tune, and at a volume that only he (and anyone listening very very closely) could hear.

“Do you have the time, to listen to me whine?” he started laughing as he drummed a beat against the wall, not at all in time to his singing. “About nothing and everything all at once?”

It kind of sounded like his usual attempt at sounding like a lounge singer, only much more frightening.

“Someone told me you’d be here,” he said.

“I am one of those, melodramatic fools.” Jeff giggled heartlessly to himself, not even looking towards the direction the voice was coming from. “I hate that song.”

“Jeff…”

Jeff finally looked over. He stared at Ryan straight in the eye.

“Fuck, you know I’ve hallucinated a lot in here.” He looked away, forcing his attention elsewhere. Or maybe he was talking to something. “This is the first time I’m seeing you.”

“Probably because I’m real, dumbass.”

“Yeah,” Jeff barked out a laugh.

“Come on, let’s go.” Ryan motioned to the door, deftly putting the key in his pocket.

“I called you.” Jeff shook his finger at Ryan in amusement. It didn’t catch Ryan’s eye at first, it should have.

“I know.”

Jeff walked closer to him, but managed to go back to ignoring his presence. “You weren’t supposed to-”

“What, hear that? Don’t scream it into the phone next time, and maybe I won’t.”

Jeff giggled something under his breath and looked away, holding his hand up to his mouth and biting on two of his fingertips.

And that’s when Ryan noticed.

Ryan wrenched Jeff’s hand away from his mouth. “Your fingertips are-

Missing.

“-God they’re raw.”

If it was possible to scrape all skin off of a finger, cutting it down to the bone almost, then Jeff had done it. Whatever was left was covered in a crusty layer of dried blood. Strands of leftover skin were raised in places, but that was it. It was horrifying and probably painful for Jeff, though he didn’t seem to feel it.

“What did you do to yourself?” he breathed.

“See those marks on the wall?” Jeff cocked his head to the side. He was way too calm, it wasn’t right at all.

“Yeah?” Ryan answered in a distant voice, looking at the wall in question.

"I figure, it’s either an escape route, or a self portrait." Jeff ran his hand down it. "Both maybe?"

At first glance Ryan thought it had been some sort of weird mural, something to break up the monotony of light blue everywhere. He disregarded it until Jeff pointed it out like that. And then he saw it for what it really was-the destruction point. Mark of complete implosion of Jeff's mind. The place where Jeff took out all his frustration, anger, and fear. Ryan could picture Jeff being against that wall for hours, scraping lines down and across that wall. Mutilating himself.

Ryan looked back at Jeff’s hands. “Your fingernails aren’t even…”

"They’re useless, they’re pretty.” He looked up at Ryan, eyes narrowing as he did. “I don’t like them.”

Ryan scratched his eyebrow as he hid the face he was making.

He wondered if the staff came in to clean the wall ever, and if Jeff would just redo his work, or if they just completely ignored it-and him by extension. He didn’t know which was worse.

Change the subject, change the subject, do it now.

“Well your bed looks nice.”

A fucking metal casing of springs and cardboard. At least he had a pillow.

“Yeah, really haven’t slept in it.” Jeff flipped his hand through the air.

"Where are the sheets?"

“Tried to hang myself with them.” Jeff mentioned briefly, with an air of casualness that only came from delivering sports statistics or boring daily news.

Was that how used to it he was?

“Didn't work,” he continued. “See, there wasn't really any place to go with them. So they took them away.”

“Okay, well it’s time to-” Ryan touched the top of Jeff’s head to get his attention. When he pulled his hand away, it was absolutely covered in short black strands. “Holy shit is that your hair?”

“Hm,” Jeff looked down at his shirt and started to brush it off. “Could be.”

“That shouldn’t happen. That should not happen.” Ryan shook off his hand. “Holy fuck, how are you not concerned?”

“Take a look at where I am.” Jeff waved his arms through the air. “My hair is the least of my fucking worries. I’ve been stuck in a storage container, waiting for a rescue. One I’m never going to get, so I hear.”

“How long have you been in here?”

“A while?” Jeff shrugged. He shrugged like he didn’t care, didn’t give a fuck about his whole situation. That wasn't Jeff at all.

“A while,” he repeated.

“It’s been a couple of days since Chip’s been by.” Jeff shook his head to fix his sentence. “Well, the real Chip.”

“You see fake Chip?” Ryan tried to figure out Jeff’s words, they were starting to go the way of some ancient code.

"I see,” Jeff motioned to the entire room, using only his forefinger and thumb. “Everyone.”

“You’ve been in here way too long.” Ryan shook his head.

“I see me. Not, not this me.” Jeff pointed to himself. “Other me.”

And then he laughed too hard for it to be real. “It’s really funny when you look at yourself and it’s not you.”

“What do they have you on?”

Jeff blinked. “They stopped giving me shit right away. They like me better like this.”

“But you’re-” Ryan cut himself off.

Crazy. Insane. Delusional.

Jeff looked at him like he had heard it. He spoke slowly and menacingly, enunciating each syllable. “Say the words you’re thinking of and watch what happens.”

Ryan kept the blank look on his face until Jeff broke away from him, muttering to himself.

“Are you even here right now?” Ryan was surprised. He wanted to laugh but he couldn’t. Any sound out of his mouth wouldn’t have come out right, he just knew it.

“What’s it matter now? I don’t fit in out there. I can’t fit in this fucking box.” Jeff said under his breath as he started to pace. "I don't go anywhere, I'm between planes of existence."

“You’re saying you don’t want to leave.” Ryan let his mouth fall open before he could catch it. He quickly made his way to the door to open it.

Show him the world, he will follow.

“I tried giving up. It didn’t work, it never works. If there was a force protecting me I’d believe it, but there’s not. I just can’t do anything right.”

“The door’s open Jeff. This is me opening it right now.” Ryan grasped onto the doorknob as he waited for Jeff to pass by him.

“I just have to be a fuckup, I have to fail at everything or the world won’t. It just won’t spin.” He didn’t even break his stride to deliver that.

“Walk out the door with me Jeff.” Ryan held out his hand.

“Doors are walls and walls are doors.” He had heard him, there was hope.

“Jeff. Let’s go.” He grabbed Jeff’s hand and tugged.

“I’ll be here for years and years,” Jeff tried to fight off Ryan’s hand to continue walking. “He told me.”

“Jeff,” Ryan pulled on his hand again. Nothing.

Jeff sat down on the floor, his butt sliding across the floor as Ryan continued to pull him. Jeff splayed his legs out on the floor, preventing any more movement. Even though Ryan never let go of his hand, he managed to lay himself back and stare up at the ceiling. His other hand rose in the air as he started to draw circles with his index finger.

Jeff muttered to himself, while Ryan struggled to listen closely.

“Thank you Wes and welcome to continuing coverage of the Los Angeles riots downtown. We’ve got a lot of cops lining up at the gate right now and a lot of protestors. In top seat is the policeman, most likely to beat you.”

“How do you remember that?” Ryan gaped.

“Most likely is coming in at ten to one and just across the gate from him is I just want my freedom, damn you. Aaaaand-” Jeff started to drag it out, just like he did before. “They’re off.”

“Fuck Jeff,” Ryan leaned over and grabbed Jeff under the arms and hauled him upright. “I’ll drag you the fuck out of here. I can’t stand any more of this.”

Jeff struggled against him, raising his arms into the air. Ryan accidentally knocked Jeff into the side of the wall. One of his wrists bounced up near his mouth and Jeff took to the challenge, securing his right wrist between his teeth and gnawing on it recklessly. He quickly tore off some flesh, but went for more.

“Stop, no.” Ryan smacked him on the nose, like a fucking dog. “Stop it.”

It worked. Jeff stopped and shut up as Ryan started to drag him fully out of the room.

“Have you seen him?” Jeff looked deep into his eyes.

“Have I seen who?” he started to lead him out the door.

“Have you seen Death?” he asked innocently. Too innocent to be Jeff.

“No, can’t say that I have.” Ryan brushed it off as quick as he could.

“You have now,” Jeff smiled, his smile overtaking his face. He practically disappeared behind it.

Fucking Cheshire cat.

Ryan signed the release papers, and got Jeff all the way to the car without one bit of difficulty. He started his car and looked at Jeff who was pressed up against the window like a little kid on a car trip.

“Don’t tell anyone I got you out of here.” Ryan said quietly.

“Who would I tell?” Jeff laughed under his breath.

“True.”

Jeff looked over at him with one eyebrow raised. “Don’t want to be associated with me?”

“It’s Chip’s job to save you, not mine.”

“Mhm,” he tapped his fingers on the window, his lack of nails and fingertips produced a completely different sound than they should have. “Well I guess I need backups or some shit, huh?”

“I really don’t know what you need, Jeff.”

Jeff smacked his lips loudly and looked out the side window.

“When’s the last time you ate?” Ryan asked to fill the silence, and because he was actually worried about that.

“They give me food there-” Jeff automatically corrected himself. “Gave me food there, you know.”

“You sure as hell weren’t eating it.”

“Huhm,” his eyebrows jumped up his forehead for mere seconds. Like he was proud of that or something.

“So when’s the last time you ate?” Ryan repeated as he turned the wheel of the car, turning into the parking lot of some local bar and grill. He shut off the car and looked over at Jeff, awaiting an answer.

“Uh, Tuesday,” Jeff started massaging his shoulder.

“Okay, what Tuesday?”

“The…Tuesday before Chip left.” Jeff said, clear as day.

“Fuck, Jeff.” Ryan pushed him. “Can you even survive like that?”

“Apparently. Haven’t gotten down to IV fluids level yet, so either I failed at that too or-”

“Stop,” Ryan said forcefully.

“Mm, nope,” he replied, dropping his hand as he did. His reply was far too lighthearted for Ryan’s taste.

Jeff started scratching at his arm. Ryan had to ask the question.

“So do you cut yourself?”

“No,” Jeff said quickly, but then amended as he shifted closer to Ryan in his car seat in a strange sort of excitement. “Maybe. Should I?”

“I’m not here to give you ideas.” Ryan clicked the button, unlocking his seatbelt as he went to get out of the car. He then realized Jeff hadn’t been wearing his. The light on the dashboard should have lit up. It didn’t.

They sat down at the restaurant, the waitress giving Jeff more than one glance. Jeff laughed, probably thinking she was flirting with him. Instead she was looking and reacting to the state of Jeff. Yeah, it was that bad. But Jeff didn’t seem to notice, not yet anyway.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” Jeff shuffled out of his seat.

“You better come back.” Ryan shouted to him, even though Jeff was still nearby. Good thing no one was at the fucking tiny joint or they would have heard that.

“Mhm,” he grumbled, waving a hand as a means for goodbye.

If possible, Jeff returned in a more disheveled state than what he left in. He slid into his side of the booth with some kind of agitated excitement.

“There’s a spot on the back of my head, the hair there is completely white. Skipped gray, it’s just old man white. It’s like shhooo.” He demonstrated by running his hand through his hair.

As Jeff moved his hand through his hair, chunks of it fell out and stuck to his hand. He was leaving a trail of it all over the place.

“Really?”

“Do you see it?” Jeff turned his head to the side, revealing a shockingly white streak of hair right on the back of his head. Just like he had said.

“It’s there. Yeah.” Ryan nodded.

“I’m like a fucking skunk.” Jeff slumped into his hand, as a wave of depression hit.

And Ryan saw a glimpse of the actual Jeff right there.

“You could always dye your hair?” he offered.

“Yeah, yeah.” Jeff sat up. “I could do that.”

“Eat.” Ryan pointed to Jeff’s plate of food, which had been sitting there since he had left.

“I can’t.”

“Stop fucking around,” he pushed the plate towards him.

“I really can’t.” Jeff chuckled dryly as he rubbed his chin.

“I know what you’re doing right now.”

“If I eat I will get sick, please don’t do this right now.”

He said please. Oh goddamnit, did he mean that or did it just come out like the child he was?

“I’m trying to help you.” Ryan pressed.

“Are you?” Jeff asked in a sarcastic whisper.

“Yeah.”

“Are you trying to help me, or are you trying to help Chip?” Jeff put his head down on the table, next to his plate of food.

“Same thing,” Ryan kicked Jeff’s foot under the table. “Pick your head up.”

“Let me lay my head on this fucking table for one fucking instant and maybe then I’ll do something for you.” Jeff complained a little as he pressed his cheek harder against the cool table.

“There’s Jeff.” Ryan smiled in recognition. Not just a glimpse, that was all Jeff.

“Mm…” he responded as Ryan pushed on one of his shoulders to wake him.

“Lay low for a couple of days,” Ryan said. “I promise you’ll be fine.”

Did he really just promise that?

Jeff snorted.

Ryan would have too.

“Or whatever passes for fine these days. Just—” he revised before Jeff cut him off as he sat up again.

“Don’t see Chip.” Jeff clapped his hands once. “Gotcha.”

Ryan still felt the need to explain. “I can’t have him thinking that he was responsible for you. Looking like…” Ryan motioned to him, and Jeff slumped back in his seat. “Acting like you are now.”

“Sounds about right,” he shrugged.

“That doesn’t mean I don’t care about-”

“Shut up Ryan.” Jeff shook his head and laughed.

“-About you.”

“Heh. I don’t believe you,” Jeff narrowed his eyes.

Jeff’s shoulders dropped, and he started to shake.

“Jeff,” Ryan said again, a little more forcefully.

Jeff continued to look away.

“I’m sorry,” Jeff started to walk again, towards the front door.

“Jeff, godfuckingdamnit!” Ryan yelled at him. “You can’t keep going on like this.”

“You can’t help. No one can help me.” Jeff held his hand against the door and looked out the window.

“It’s a fucking television show, he's fucking acting, what the fuck are you doing to yourself?”

“I wanted to see him!” Jeff screamed, looking directly at Ryan. "I wanted...to see him!"

Ryan went silent.

“I wanted to see him, is that so bad?” Jeff started to pant heavily as the range of his screaming caught up with him.

“You wanted to see him die,” Ryan realized, his eyes wide with shock.

“What the fuck does it matter?” Jeff looked out the window again, trying to keep a firm gaze going while still wiping away his tears.

Ryan crossed his arms and stood his ground.

“Aah-” Jeff held his hands to the sides of his head and turned back to Ryan. “Just shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything that time.”

Jeff looked him straight in the eye.

“Oh, I’m fucking so-rry for jumping the gun.” Jeff waved his arms.

“How am I supposed to know-I don’t know what’s going on with you but you better fucking-” Ryan paused and squeezed the bridge of his nose.

He changed his plan of attack, softening his voice greatly. “Let me help.”

Jeff looked at him in amazement. Neither of them expected those words. Jeff nodded, almost robotically and rolled his shoulders back. There was a cracking sound when he did.

As calm as he could, he walked to the door.

He pulled on the doorknob. The door didn’t open.

A quiet whimper emitted from his mouth. He leaned his head against the door and flipped the locks back and forth. He slid his hands over the doorknob and tried to open the door again.

Ryan watched.

Moments of terror and frustration flickered over Jeff’s face. He worked faster, achieving next to nothing. Soon, Jeff let out a cry, he hit his fist against the door, and his knees gave out.

Jeff hit the floor before Ryan could reach him.

Ryan practically leapt down to Jeff’s level and pulled his shaking, rapidly deteriorating body close.

“I’m sorry,” Jeff muttered into Ryan’s ear. He repeated it, over and over.

It took a while for Ryan to realize he was saying it back to him. Ryan’s eyes darted around the room. He leaned forwards and held Jeff’s face in his hands and-

He could help him. He could help Chip. This time he could…

Ryan kissed him.