#suicide attempt tw

Prompts: Discovery, Confrontation, Mental Health

Note: I don’t know why this was so hard to write but it was. It was meant to be just a simple comfort fic, starting from the second scene. Then I thought hmn maybe I should start with a bit of context and it just went haywire from there. I don’t even know if this can count as comfort. 

Trigger warning: Graphic suicide attempt in the first scene. 

Luigi slammed the door shut. Fuck. What did he do? What the fuck did he do? He poured himself a glass of whisky and slammed it down. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. What the fuck did he do!? He shot down another glass desperate to get the screaming out of his head. “Shut up! Just shut up! Shut the fuck up!!!”

He slid to the ground. Why wouldn’t that bastard just stop screaming? He slammed his hand against his head. Just get out of his head. Just get the fuck out. Just fucking stop.

He took a swig from the bottle. He could still see his brother writhing and screaming on the ground. His hands were covering his face; he couldn’t see what he had done. But the smell. The smell of burning flesh. He took another swig. Just get out of his head. Just get out.

Tears streamed down his face. Fuck. He scrubbed his eyes desperately. He wasn’t a fucking pussy. He wasn’t…

What had he done? What the fuck had he done? Why had he let his anger take over like that? Why?

He dropped his head in his hands.

He didn’t even remember picking up the beaker. He didn’t even remember throwing it. He just remembered seeing rage. He just remembered an anger he couldn’t control and…

And then the screaming started.

The fucking screaming that just refuses to stop. Just stop screaming. Just fucking stop screaming.

“Luigi, what did you do? What did you do to your brother!?”

He didn’t know. He didn’t know what he did. He hadn’t meant…it wasn’t supposed to… He was just angry.

“The burns are extensive, Mr Largo. I don’t know if…”

No. Don’t fucking say it. Pavi was going to be fine. He had to be fine. Luigi couldn’t have killed his brother. He couldn’t have…

Why was he so angry? He couldn’t even remember what his brother said that pissed him off so badly. He couldn’t remember what his brother had done to deserve…

He didn’t deserve that. No one deserved that. What had Luigi done? What the fuck did he do to his brother?

Stop fucking screaming.

He couldn’t even call for help. He just stood there staring. He just stood there watching his brother scream and convulse and…

“Stop fucking screaming!!!”

He clutched his head in his hands. He couldn’t even justify what he’s done. He couldn’t even… He hurt his brother. He hurt his brother. He maimed him so badly that…

Luigi couldn’t breathe. The guilt tightened in his chest. What had he… He clenched his eyes shut. It still didn’t remove the image of his brother writhing on the ground. What had he done?

He couldn’t take it anymore. The guilt in his chest; the screaming. He needed it to stop. He wanted it to stop.

He numbly walked into the bathroom. He opened the medicine cabinet and took the sleeping pills. He closed the door and stared straight into his face.

Bastard. That was the bastard who dared hurt his brother. He hurt his brother.

He slammed his fist into the mirror cracking it.

He dared touch his brother. He was supposed to protect his brother and…

Smash! Glass went everywhere. His knuckles were bleeding but he didn’t care.

He hurt his brother. He hurt his brother. There was no forgiving that. He did not deserve forgiveness. He did not deserve anything. He hurt his brother.

He picked up a glass shard and placed it on his wrist. He watched the tip draw blood. He dug the shard deep into his skin and pulled it down. He watched the blood pour from the wound. This was what he deserved. He placed the shard on the other side of his wrist where he knew where his artery was. He dug the shard in his skin.

There was a sharp knock at the door. “Luigi?”

Fuck. “What the fuck do you want, Carmela?”

“I…I’m scared. I… I heard the Genterns talking. They said something happened to Pavi. They said they don’t know if he’s going to die.”

Luigi shut his eyes. He dug the shard deeper.

“Please Luigi. I don’t know what’s going on. I’m scared. Please.”

Just get the fuck out of here and let him finish. Just let him…

He heard sobs through the door.

Fuck. Luigi closed his eyes and pulled the shard out of his wrist. He pressed down as blood gushed from the wound. “Give me a minute, Carmela. I’m taking a shower.” Luigi turned on the shower and headed back to the medicine cabinet. He wrapped his wrists tightly with bandages. It soaked through. He haphazardly wrapped another layer around his wrist. He looked at the glass on the ground and he couldn’t bring himself to clean it up.

He turned off the shower and sighed. He pulled down his sleeve to ensure the bandages were hidden. He left the bathroom. Carmela was sitting on the bed. “Don’t go in there. There’s glass everywhere.”

“Brother…is…is Pavi going to be ok?”

“I don’t know.” He slumped onto the bed next to her.

“Do you know what happened?”

Luigi closed his eyes. He saw himself splashing the contents of the beaker on his brother. “No.”

“Is Pavi going to die?”

“I don’t fucking know, Carmela!”

She looked down, admonished.

Fuck. “Car-”

“I’m scared.”

“I know. I’m scared too.”

Cautiously, Carmela placed her head on his lap. “He can’t die.”

Guilt clenched his throat shut. Pavi writhing on the ground.

Carmela started sobbing quietly.

He placed a hand on her head. “He’s going to be fine, Carmela. Everything’s going to be fine.” But it wasn’t, was it? Even if Pavi survived… If he survived. Fuck. He hurt his brother so badly he didn’t know if he’d survive. What had he done? What the fuck had he done? A fresh wave of tears burned his eyes. What the fuck had he done?

He felt arms circle his waist.

What the fuck was she comforting him for? He didn’t deserve it. He didn’t deserve shit. He hurt his brother. He maimed his brother. He killed his brother. He killed his brother. He killed his brother.

***

Pavi headed to Luigi’s office once more. He was sick of this. How many times had he done this this month alone? If his brother refused to care for himself, then Pavi was done. He was so done. He wasn’t his brother’s nursemaid, reminding him to eat or sleep time and time again. He was exhausted.

Pavi entered Luigi’s office and sighed. His brother was asleep at his desk once more. His jacket draped over the seat of his chair, his left hand outstretched on the desk, with his head lying on it. Pavi just sighed once more and picked up his brother’s jacket and laid it on his brother.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Paviche. I’m sorry.”

Pavi could only watch his brother whimper in his sleep. He felt a twinge of guilt at his annoyance. He raised his hand to wake his brother when something caught his eye. He headed back to the front of Luigi’s desk and stared at the outstretched hand. The sleeve had been pulled up slightly. Pavi’s eyes darted to his brother. He was still asleep. Pavi unbuttoned the sleeve and pushed it back.

Angry red scars decorated his brother’s forearm. The ages of the scars varied but there were a few that were new; too new. But the scar that caught his eye was a well healed scar that ran down his forearm; too long and too deep.

Luigi stirred.

Pavi pulled back. He headed to the alcohol cabinet and poured himself a glass.

“Pavi, what are you-” Luigi cut himself off as he stared at his exposed wrist. He fell silent. He pulled down his sleeve and buttoned it.

“I would ask-a you how-a long but some of-a those are years old; even before papa…”

“Mind your own fucking business.”

“I don’t-a understand.”

“What’s there to fucking understand?”

“Why?”

“Why.” Luigi scoffed. “Just forget you saw it.”

“Fratello.”

“What?”

“I’m-a trying to understand. Help-a me to understand.”

“What’s there to fucking understand?”

“What is-a it? Punishment? To feel-a something? Help-a me understand, fratello.” So, he would know what to do next; how to help.

“Just forget about it, Paviche.”

“No. I will-a not just-a forget about it.” Pavi spat. “I will-a not let this go. If-a you don’t-a tell me tonight, I will-a not stop hounding you about this until you tell me.”

“I get angry. And it’s there and it burns. And I can’t fucking control it. And normally I can just let it out; kill whoever pissed me off but-” Luigi fell silent.

“But what, fratello?”

“If it’s you two, if you piss me off. I have to get it out. I have to get it out before I react. Because we both know what happens if I don’t.”

Pavi looked away.

“That’s it. There’s no big revelation. No new hole you need to fix. I just needed an outlet, that’s all.”

“And-a what about the other one? The long scar that-a runs down your arm.”

Luigi was silent.

“How old is-a that?”

Luigi refused to answer him.

“I thought-a this was new. I thought-a this was because of-a papa.”

“Pops was just the last straw.”

“Tell me how I can-a help, fratello.”

“You can’t help. I don’tneed your help.”

“You can’t-a save someone who doesn’t-a want to be saved.” Pavi spat.

“Good. So we’re both in agreement then.” Luigi stood and put his jacket back on.

“Fratello, please.”

“Please what?” Luigi just stared down at him. “I don’t need you chasing me around all the fucking time making sure I eat. I don’t need you making sure I sleep. And I damn fucking sure don’t need you there making sure I don’t fucking off myself.”

Pavi closed his eyes.

“I don’t need a babysitter. You’re not my fucking savior.”

“I’m-a just trying to help, fratello.”

Luigi slammed his hand on the table. “I’m not your fucking pet project to use to distract yourself from pops.”

“That’s-a not fair.”

“Isn’t it? Then what do you call running around trying to deal with everyone’s feelings? You’re doing the same thing to Carmela even if she’s too dumb to see it. You’d rather manage everyone else’s feelings than deal with your own.”

“That’s-a not true.”

“Have you cried since pops died?”

Pavi was silent.

“And don’t give me bullshit about not caring for him or hating him for what happened at the opera. You are the only one in this house that fucking defends him. So if he’s so great, then why the fuck haven’t you cried? Why the fuck haven’t you grieved him? Don’t come here and give me bullshit about dealing when you haven’t fucking dealt with it either.” Luigi headed to the door. “I’m going to bed.”

“I’m-a just trying to help, fratello. Why do you always-a do this?”

“Because it’s not going to work. You can’t fucking save me. And you’re going to tell yourself you failed and blame yourself. But it isn’t your fucking job. You can’t save someone who doesn’t want to be saved.”

“Fratello!”

Luigi ignored him and left.

***

Pavi watched his brother stare out at the city, drink in hand. He sat in a chair.

“I’m guessing you heard nothing I said yesterday.”

Pavi sighed and sipped his drink. “You’re right, fratello. I’m-a not dealing with-a papa.” He took another sip. “It’s-a not like I jumped to acceptance; it’s-a not like I’m in denial. I just… I’m-a not even numb. I just… don’t-a grieve papa. It’s-a not like I hate him or I don’t-a love him. I just… don’t-a grieve him. Does-a that make me a creature, fratello?”

“Pavi, that doesn’t-”

“Make sense? I know.” Pavi just stared forward. “I keep-a telling myself it’s-a because I don’t-a believe what he said at the opera. That he was-a just sick, upset, dealing with dying; and-a he hadn’t really meant what he said. You and sorella were most affected by what-a he said at the opera; so because I don’t-a believe it; I’m ok. I’m-a coping.”

“That’s not…I mean…”

“I know.” Pavi looked at the ground. “I don’t-a know if it’s because I’m-a heartless or if I’m-a really so self centred. I… I do miss-a him. And I do love him. I just-a don’t… I wanted to cry at the funeral. Or at least, I felt like I should cry. Not-a for the cameras. It felt-a like the right thing to do but… Am I broken, fratello?”

He heard Luigi sit opposite him. “No, Paviche.”

“I see the way you and Carmela grieve him and I don’t-a understand why I don’t feel like that. And it’s-a not like I can’t-a feel. I remember what-a mama’s death felt like. But why don’t-a I feel…”

“I can’t answer you, Paviche.”

“You’re no help.” Pavi joked, trying to lighten the mood.

“I know.” Luigi replied all too seriously.

Pavi sighed. “Maybe I’ve just-a gotten used to losing people. If-a you jump, fratello, do you think there’s a chance I won’t-a feel it?” Tears pricked at the back of his eyes. This; this he could feel. But losing papa… he couldn’t even shed a single tear.

Luigi sighed. “Pavi, you can’t-”

“I know. But I have to try.”

“It’s going to destroy you when you fail.” When, not if.

“Then-a fight, fratello. Fight against-”

“It’s not that fucking simple.” Luigi stood and headed back to the edge, staring out over the city; keeping his back towards him.

“Then tell-a me, fratello. Talk-a to me.”

Luigi was silent. Pavi just watched him stare over the city. Finally, the quiet voice came. “I look forward and I don’t see anything. I don’t see a future. I don’t see a reason. I just see darkness. There is nothing to go on for.”

Something ugly filled Pavi’s gut. “Am I and sorella not-a enough, fratello?”

“You’re just reminders.”

“Reminders of-a what?”

“That everyone would be better off without me. That if I was never born; you would be…happier.”

Pavi got to his feet. “That isn’t-a true, fratello.” Pavi moved towards his brother, “That-”

“Just stay back.” Luigi’s back was towards him. He caught sight of the exposed forearm and fresh blood that flowed down his wrist.

“That isn’t-a true, fratello.”

“Just imagine it, Pavi. I died as a baby as I was supposed to. Rotti meets Isabella and they have you. And you’re not neglected. You’re happy and you get all the love and attention you deserve. And Isabella never gets that face transplant.”

Something twisted in Pavi’s gut.

“Because she didn’t need to worry she was losing pops. She didn’t need it. And you grow up with your mother happy.”

“And-a what about sorella?”

“Maybe Isabella has a second child. Maybe she does eventually need a transplant. And pops meets Irene and they have Carmela. But its different this time. Pops is there. He doesn’t let Irene bully you. He doesn’t let Irene destroy Carmela’s self-image. And you’re happy. You’re all happy.”

Pavi scoffed. “Are you listening to yourself, fratello? It’s-a like you think papa would have magically changed if-a you were not here.”

“He was busy with GeneCo; with-”

“Si. He was-a always busy with-a GeneCo. Even after your transplant. Papa had-a no reason to neglect us after but he still did. Si, papa was-a busy with-a GeneCo and I couldn’t-a fault him for it. But the times he was-a home, he could have paid-a more attention; he could have spent time with-a us. He didn’t have to blame mama for something out of-a her control.”

“I had an arrest, Pavi.”

“That wasn’t-a anyone’s fault. But papa chose to blame mama. That was-a why she had the surgery.”

“And if it wasn’t because of me-”

“Papachose to blame mama. And then-a when he married Mama Irene, he should-a have seen the kind of person she was. He could-a have stopped the bullying at-a any time. He could-a have told her off for-a the way she talked to Carmela. You seem-a to think that-a life would be better without you but it’s still-a papa’s choices. Not-a yours.”

“And what about your face?”

Pavi fell silent.

“I told you, Paviche. You would be better off.”

Pavi stayed silent. “And-a if you killed yourself, what-a would that change? Would that magically make me better?”

“Maybe.” Luigi was silent. “At least I won’t fuck up again.”

“Fratello…you haven’t-a touched me or Sorella since.”

“So, what? It doesn’t change anything. It doesn’t make things better. It doesn’t change that I’m still an asshole 95% of the time. It doesn’t change that I still hurt you.”

“Then-a change that, fratello. Leaving doesn’t-a help. Leaving will just make it worse.”

“How?”

Something in Pavi’s chest dropped. “What do you mean-a how?”

“How would leaving make things worse? You would be happier without me.”

“That’s-a not true, fratello, and you know it.”

Luigi was silent.

“You know that right, fratello?”

Luigi refused to say anything.

Pavi approached him slowly. He grabbed his right wrist before he could hurt himself further. He watched fresh angry cuts decorate his brother’s wrist. So much for ‘keeping his temper in control’. “I would-a go through that a 100 times if it meant I would never have to lose you, fratello.” He said quietly.

Luigi pulled his hand back. “Paviche, your savior complex is suffocating. I’m not your fucking project.”

“Fratello, do you think-a I’m doing this to what, feel-a good about myself?”

“Then what?” Luigi hissed. “Why won’t you just leave me to my own shit?”

“Did-a you ever think, fratello, that-a I do this because I’m-a terrified of losing you. Can-a you imagine what it was-a like finding you standing on the ledge, not-a knowing what to do, what to say?”

Luigi sneered. “You should have just pushed me.”

“Fratello!”

“Pavi, please. Just stop this.”

“You won’t-a believe me, will you, fratello? You will-a never believe me no matter what I say.” Pavi headed back to the chair and took a long swig of his drink. “Did I do something to make you think that, fratello? We argued a lot-a sure but…I thought-a it was-a normal. I thought-a we were just annoying each other…I didn’t-a think…”

“It’s not you, Paviche.”

“You just don’t-a believe you deserved to be loved.”

Luigi was silent.

“That’s-a it, isn’t it, fratello? I’ve got it right. I’ve finally gotten it right.”

“You can’t save someone who doesn’t want to be saved.”

“Because it’s-a what you think you deserve?”

Luigi didn’t answer him.

“Fratello, I don’t-a know if it helps…but I forgave you a long time ago.”

“Shut it.”

“Fratello.”

“Just fuck off, Pavi.”

“Why?”

“Because its fucking bullshit. If you had done something like that to me, you think I would forgive you?”

“Si, fratello.”

Luigi scoffed.

“Was-a that after what happened?”

Luigi looked down at his wrist and fell silent.

“Did-a you think I would have wanted that?”

“You deserved retribution.”

“I deserved an apology.” Pavi spat.

Luigi fell silent once more.

“Do you know how many times you’ve apologized to me in your sleep, fratello? Why is-a it so fucking hard to say it to my face?”

Luigi still kept his silence.

“Forget it, fratello. I don’t…” His voice cracked. “I don’t-a know how to help you.”

“You can’t. I told you not to put it on yourself.”

“I’m-a really as-a useless as papa says.”

“Paviche, this emotional manipulation isn’t-”

“It’s-a not, fratello. I don’t-a know what to do anymore. I really don’t. I thought this was-a about papa. I thought if-a I just stayed here with you, you would-a get over it eventually. But this is…” His brother was broken beyond what he could repair.

“I told you, you can’t save me.”

Pavi closed his eyes. “Fine, fratello. I won’t-a push you anymore. You do what you want. But don’t you dare use me and sorella as-a your excuse. Don’t-a you dare say you’re doing this for us.”

“You would be better off-”

“No. Don’t. Don’t use me as-a your fucking excuse. Don’t say it’s-a retribution or any shit like that. Whatever you feel for papa, that’s-a what you’d put me and sorella through. Don’t-a fucking kid yourself and say it’s for our benefit.”

“I just don’t want to hurt you two anymore.”

“And-a what do you think-a doing this would do? I’m-a tired of losing people, fratello.”

Luigi was silent once more. He slumped in the chair opposite him.

Pavi stared at his brother’s arm. He stood.

“Where are you going?”

“I thought-a you didn’t want me here, fratello.”

Luigi was silent.

“To get the first aid kit.”

“Leave it, Paviche. I’ll deal with it later.”

“No, you won’t.” Pavi left the roof. He leant against the wall and took a breath. He couldn’t give up. He couldn’t give up on his brother. Even if he failed, at least he tried his best. He had to have tried his best. Pavi pushed himself off the wall and found the first aid kit. He headed back to the roof and found his brother still sitting on the chair, nursing his drink. Pavi sighed and sat back opposite him. It was better than staring off the roof.

“Just leave it, Paviche.”

“After all that-a hard work getting it from inside.” He felt his brother’s eyes on him as he cleaned the cuts that adorned his brother’s wrist. His eyes settled on the long scar running down his brother’s arm.

“I’m sorry.”

Pavi clenched his eyes shut. It was what he wanted all this time. It was what he was waiting for but… It didn’t sound like an apology. It sounded like a ‘goodbye’. “I hate you.”

Luigi stiffened.

“You won’t-a even fight. You’re just giving up.”

Luigi’s hand clenched into a fist. He pulled back his hand.

Pavi couldn’t look at him. He kept his gaze on the bloodstained gauze in his hand. He clenched the gauze in his hand. His hand shook. His eyes burned.

“Paviche…”

He dropped the gauze onto the table. He grabbed his brother’s hand and pulled it roughly towards him. He couldn’t fix his brother. He had to fix what he could. He would fix what he could. Pavi rubbed the antiseptic onto the cuts. He would fix what little he could.

Luigi cursed and tried to pull back his hand.

Pavi refused to let him. “I thought-a you liked the pain, fratello.”

“Paviche, stop.”

He numbly realized he had tears running down his face. He released his brother’s hand. He couldn’t look at his brother.

Luigi’s hand hovered over his shoulder. He pulled his hand back. “Paviche…”

“Please don’t-a leave me, fratello.” His voice was choked and small. He felt a hand at the back of his head. He lent forward and leant his head on his brother’s chest. “I can’t-a lose you.”

“Paviche… I can’t promise anything. I…”

“I just-a need you to try. I just-a need you to not give up.”

Luigi sighed. “Ok, Paviche.”

Pavi closed his eyes and leant into his brother’s embrace. That was all he needed for now.

“Fucking crybaby.”

Pavi just snorted. Just one day at a time. They would take this one day at a time.