This chapter takes place a week after the last chapter

CWs/TWs: referenced/mentioned death, referenced/mentioned delusions, referenced eating disorder, Stockholm syndrome, passive suidical thoughts, knife, sh (I'll put an extra warning in the chapter since it does go into graphic detail), blood, meltdown.

Please please please be super careful reading this chapter!! Your health is so much more important than a dumb fanfiction!!!

.•°*°•.

"When I die, I don't think I want a funeral," Daniel said when Lizzie brought up the question about what he would want his funeral to be like. "I just want to be buried next to my beautiful Josie. No need to make my death extravagant, you know what I mean?"

Lizzie tilted her head. "I mean... I guess so," she said. "But how will people know?"

Daniel shrugged. "We don't have much family, so I suppose it really doesn't matter."

.•°*°•.

"You're not going to the burial?" Lizzie asked Jimmy, who laid on the sofa with a soft yellow blanket.

"No," he said. "I don't want to cry again."

Lizzie huffed. "You should at least come to say goodbye," she said, then turned away and sighed. "I know he didn't want any kind of special ceremony, but it's the least we can do. You should come."

"No thanks," Jimmy sighed. "I'd rather not."

Lizzie nodded silently and walked away, knowing not to push him. As much as she wanted him to go with her, she couldn't force him. "Come on, Grian, let's go."

[This is where it starts to get to the passive suicidal/sh topics. Please be careful and don't push yourself to read it if you can't! If you need to, skip to the next section of the chapter. The next part starts at "Knock, knock."]

Jimmy waited until the front door closed to cry. It had only been a week, but he missed his father so much it physically hurt to do anything but lay around all day. He had no motivation to go to school or study for his final exams and he often wished that Daniel would've taken Jimmy with him. He didn't want to be here without his father, his best friend. He felt so... empty. He wouldn't be able to go to the burial without having a complete mental breakdown.

It took him a while to convince himself to get up to use the bathroom, and he spent a lot longer in there than he usually would just trying to get himself to wash his hands after. He was so tired. I want to go to sleep and wake up to my parents, he thought passively, then jumped when a razor fell off the shelf in the shower. Huh. What comedic timing.

He picked it up and paused for a moment, knowing it was a bad idea to do what he wanted to. But Scott said it always made them feel better... He stared at the razor and sighed. "Fuck this," he said, then he slammed the razor down onto the floor and walked out of the bathroom. If he was going to do this, he needed something better than a razor blade.

Jimmy went to the kitchen and searched the drawers for any kind of knife. He knew Joel probably would have locked them away after Grian's planned attempt, but he was proven wrong when he found two of them in the silverware drawer. "I'm really going to do this," he whispered to himself, then he rolled up the sleeve of his shirt. He hesitated for only a second before dragging the blade across his wrist, wincing slightly at the sting. If he was honest...

It was relieving.

He did it again, and it didn't hurt as much. The more he did it, the less it hurt and the more he felt more relaxed. It was weird that hurting himself amde him relax, but... at least he wasn't having a meltdown.

He continued to cut up his forearm until there wasn't much room left to cut, and it wasn't until he stopped that he really started to feel the sting. He started to panic at the amount of pain he was beginning to feel, like it was delayed from when he did the cutting. Not to mention the amount of blood dripping off of his arm.

He turned the faucet on and wetted a hand towel to dap it on his arm, hissing at how much more it hurt now. Soon enough, the towel was covered in blood and he was still bleeding.

"Fuck, what do I do?!" he shouted to the empty house, then froze when he heard the front door open.

"Jimmy?"

He was absolutely fucked.

.•°*°•.

"Knock knock," Joel said as he walked into Mumbo's hospital room. He wanted to go to the burial to comfort Lizzie during the ceremony, but she insisted on him checking up on Mumbo instead. "Sorry I haven't been around for a while, Daniel just... passed?" He paused, looking on either side of the room for Michael and finding himself confused when he was nowhere to be seen. "Where's-"

"He left," Mumbo said quietly, looking down at his lap on the bed. "He hates me."

Joel rolled his eyes lightheartedly, smiling softly, and sat down next to Mumbo's bed. "He doesn't hate y-"

"He does."

Joel's smile faded when he noticed how calm Mumbo was. The boy seemed perfectly with it, not acting delusional at all. "Did he say that?"

Mumbo nodded, sniffling. "And he yelled at me," he whispered, rubbing at his eyes with the palms of his hands. "B-because I didn't want to g-go to- to the-" He cut himself off with a sob and covered his face with his hands. "He hates me."

"Right, I'm calling him," Joel said. "He needs to apologise." He pulled out his phone and dialed Michael's number, walking out of the room as he waited (quite impatiently) for an answer.

"What do you want-"

"You to come back to the hospital and apologise to your son," Joel snapped, barely giving Michael time to finish his sentence. "Did you blow up at him because he thought you hated him?"

Michael took a moment to respond. "He doesn't want my help."

"That has nothing to do with you walking out on him because he's mentally unwell," Joel said. "People like you make me absolutely fucking furious because you think it's okay to give up on children who don't know any better than to push away any help they receive because of an abusive parent. He wants help. He wants it more than anything else. But he won't accept it if you don't fucking teach him how to! He needs a father to guide him, not to give up on him."

"...I'm sorry."

Joel huffed. He felt like an angry parent yelling at his misbehaving child. "I'm not the one you should be apologising to," he said. "Now, get your ass over here and make it up to Mumbo."

.•°*°•.

Scott sobbed, pain shooting through his entire body as he moved just the slightest bit so his arm wouldn't fall asleep from him laying on top of it. "Mom!" they shouted. It'd already been a week and nothing had improved at all. "Mom!"

"I'm coming, sweetheart," Amanda called, then Scott could hear footsteps coming up the stairs. "What's wrong, honey?"

"Everything hurts," they whined, and Amanda sighed.

"I already told you, there's nothing I can do about that," she said softly, and he groaned. "I'm sorry, baby, but it's just a part of having the flu. I can't give you anything that's going to make you feel better."

He let out a quiet, tired cry. "I want to die."

Amanda frowned. "It'll be okay," she said. She pressed the back of her hand to their forehead. "How about I go get you a cool towel to put on your forehead? That should help you feel a little better."

"Please."

"Alright, I'll be back."

.•°*°•.

Scar had only just heard about Daniel dying the previous day and he wanted to check on Joel and Lizzie in case they needed any help with anything. However, when he got to their house, Jimmy's car was the only one in the driveway. Shrugging, the boy went up to the front door anyway, figuring he could still be of use somehow even if just for company.

He knocked on the door and waited for a response, but didn't get one. He knocked again, then a third time, then decided to open the door and let himself inside the house anyway.

"Fuck, what do I do?!" Jimmy shouted, startling Scar.

"Jimmy?" Scar walked out of the front hallway and wandered curiously into the kitchen to see Jimmy standing over the sink, his arm a bloody mess. Scar felt like he was going to pass out at the sight, maybe scream first. But even as his mouth hung open, nothing came from him, not a single sound. He stumbled backward a bit and gripped the doorframe to give himself some stability as he couldn't tear his eyes away from Jimmy's arm.

He was mortified.

He'd seen bad marks on Grian, but he'd never seen anything fresh and still bleeding. It was horrific.

"Holy fuck," was all Scar could manage, which made Jimmy grimace.

"Scar, you can't tell anybody about this," Jimmy said, surprisingly calm despite the fact that there was blood covering his entire forearm. "Promise me you won't tell anybody."

Scar blinked and made eye contact with Jimmy, panicking a little bit. "This is kind of serious, Timmy," he said, his voice quivering. "I mean- You... You're bleeding... a lot..." He glanced back down at Jimmy's arm and swallowed thickly. "I think I should tell someone that you're-"

"No, you can't!" Jimmy shouted, his panic showing now. "Please, everybody's already still upset about Dad dying and I-" He stopped to breathe for a moment. "I made a mistake, okay? Just, please, don't tell anyone I did this."

Scar felt a tear or two prickle in his eyes and he wiped at them quickly. "Timmy, this is serious." He felt himself get progressively more nervous the longer he stared at his arm, his breathing growing heavy.

Jimmy groaned, running his clean hand down his face. "I know, but you can't tell anybody," he repeated for the umpteenth time. "Especially not Joel or Liz. They have enough to deal with already."

"...I need to tell somebody," Scar whispered. "I can't just-"

"Scar, please!"

"How can you expect me to see this and not tell anybody?!" Scar screamed, hyperventilating now. "Why- Why does everybody want to hurt themselves?!" He leaned against the wall and sobbed, running his hands through his hair. "I don't get it, I-" He threw his head back as he whined, sliding down the wall to sit on the floor. "Why do you guys do this?" he asked weakly.

Jimmy shifted, looking guilty. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I didn't mean to make you upset..."

Scar didn't respond, just covering his face to cry.

I don't get it.

.•°*°•.

"Mom," Grian said as he and Lizzie drove home from the burial.

"Yeah?"

"Can we stop at the grocery store before we go home?"

Lizzie blinked and glanced at Grian. "What for?"

"I want to get brownie mix to make you some brownies since you're sad."

Lizzie smiled a bit and wiped at her eyes as fresh tears formed. "Sure, we can stop at the store for brownie mix." I love this kid.

.•°*°•.

A little fluff at the end to make the booboos better /j

It gets worse later

...Oopsie