A/N: Oh, hello. This idea has been in my mind for a while, so I thought I'd give it a go. I'm obviously not the best writer out there, and I'm not entirely proud about how this came out. But this is my first KND fic, and constructive criticism is nice. I'm not sure how often my updates will be, but I'm gonna try to get up a new chapter at least once a week. So, here ya go. Enjoy. (:
Disclaimer: By the way, I don't own The Kids Next Door. And I'd really not like to say more about this, because I feel tears comin' on. *Sigh*.
It wasn't like she would ever love him, anyway.
Who could love somebody so brash? Somebody so impulsive? Someone as short and dumb as him? Wallabee Beetles, codenamed Numbuh Four, chewed on his lower lip with thought. He'd been planning this for a while. Nobody would have noticed, of course. He did his best to hide this from the rest of his teammates. He was never sure if he was going through with it, anyway. But, Wally -- being the type of boy who he was -- didn't like showing emotions. Especially not in front from the rest of Sector V's operatives. Even if they were his best friends.
He was stronger than that. He wasn't weak. Or so he thought. But things had changed. He was changing. And change was hard, he'd come to find. Possibly a little too hard to bare with. And it wasn't much like Wally to try and run from his problems. He usually ran towards them. But he wasn't feeling much like himself lately. And thankfully, his friends hadn't seemed to notice. Which only made what he was doing the more easier. Maybe.
Gripping the small plastic bottle with a shaky hand, the youthful blond licked at his dry lips. He allowed his eyes to linger on the cap for a few moments, before they flashed over to the bedroom door. It wasn't locked. There was really no need. It wasn't often that the other members of the Kids Next Door interrupted him while he was up in his room. No, dear reader. They knew better than that. He'd made it obvious that he didn't like being bothered when he was, typically, working out. Or something. They could only guess what he was doing.
Except right now the small boy wasn't working out. He was getting out. Of this world of problems. And if you asked any one of his fellow operatives if they ever saw this coming, then the answer would be a straight up "No". Wallabee Beetles wasn't a coward. Wallabee Beetles never wanted the easy-way-out; Unless of course it pertained to school work. He always did what he felt was right. Always finished what he started. Was never one to give up. He seemed literally invincible, one might say. Easily the best fighter of the five of them. The karate-kid. And easily hiding his true feelings from anyone. Swallowing whatever cruddy emotions filled his little head, and trying his best to push it all past him. Letting himself blow up here and there, from the sheer frustration of it all. That was the norm.
And at this point, he'd come to feel a little ridiculous. Not to mention how ridiculous it was for an eleven year old to try to commit suicide, mind you. With a full life ahead of him, and everything. But Wally wasn't the smartest boy out there. And he sure as hell didn't know what to do next. Except uncap the orange-shaded container, and set the white cap beside him. It had taken him quite a few moments to uncap the thing, thanks to those cruddy child-safety whatjamacallits. But after feeling somewhat victorious for overcoming that miniscule obstacle, Numbuh Four was seriously beginning to reconsider.
He was stupid to have planned this. He knew that very well. But everyone knew that he was stupid. They'd said so themselves. So, there was nothing new there. Yet, he was smart enough to have planned this. Smart enough to have covered it up without any known suspicion. He was smart enough to have kept his façade going so strong for so long. Having hid himself, mentally, of course. But inside he wasn't nearly as strong as he wished he could be. The tears streaming down his cheeks could give any indication that his tough exterior was nothing but a mask. A mask that he wasn't wearing anymore.
You might be asking why he of all people was doing this to himself. It wasn't that he hated his life. He didn't think his life was all that bad, in fact. He liked what he did, fighting in the Kids Next Door. He liked where he was, in the treehouse with his friends. He'd grown accustomed to seeing these people every day. He'd grown to love his little American town. And though at times he missed his home country, he knew he'd stay with his friends forever.
Which was one of the main reasons he had to do this. The thing about being in the Kids Next Door, meant that you were a kid. You had to even Wally knew that nobody could stay a kid forever. They were destined to grow up. And when they hit the ripe age of 13, they would be decomissioned. The word...the thought just haunted him. He was not planning on sitting around, and turning into a teenager. He liked things too much, now. And the end was coming near. And Wallabee Beetles figured he'd speed up the process, just a little bit.
Being the second youngest of the group, he would be forced to watch as his friends forgot him and everything, one by one. Losing Abigail, then Nigel, then Hoagie. The three of them were already twelve. And then it would be his turn. And then Kuki's. He didn't want to be selfish, or anything. But he didn't think it was fair that he had to suffer. No. Why couldn't he go first? It wasn't like they'd remember him, anyway.
His thoughts turned to the youngest member of the team. Kuki Sanban, AKA Numbuh Three. The overly-cheerful, somewhat ditzy, Japanese girl who'd taken his heart hostage. Ever since they'd met that one day when they were seven, she'd caught his eye. And no doubt he'd caught hers too. But that was one more thing that the Aussie was clueless about. She could never love him, he had so strictly decided. Time was running out to tell her. And he knew for a fact that he didn't have half the courage to confess it. He'd barely come to terms with it, himself. He was as whipped as a boy his age could be. But he didn't want to face that possible (or in his mind--inevitable)rejection. He wouldn't be able to show his face around here, again. So, what was the point?
A quick sob escaped from his mouth, as he dumped the contents of the bottled container onto the floor. He shook his head at the patheticness of it all. He didn't stop himself, though, from sobbing once more. There was no point in that either. He wasn't going to kid himself anymore. Wallabee Beetles was nothing but a...
He wasn't sure how to finish that thought. He just knew he was the biggest, pathetic-est whatever he was. There was absolutely no doubt about that. Taking in a shuddering breath, in a cheap way of trying to calm himself so he wouldn't become too loud, he eased a few pills into his hand. He wasn't sure just how many it would take. And he wasn't paying attention to how many he was going to take. He just knew that soon his suffering would be over. And everything would be okay. Yes, it was the only way. He would have to tell himself that, like he'd been doing so for a while. Because he was tired of it all. Tired of living in denial everyday. Tired of everything. He wanted this. He needed this. And he tried not to think about how much he was going to hurt everyone else.
The mere thought of that sent a strange shiver throughout his body. Raising his hoodie-clad arm up to wipe at his blurry eyes, he tried not to think of the guilt that was currently eating him away. He knew it wasn't fair to them. He knew that they cared about him. And he cared about then, right back. But they would have to understand that it was the only way. It was for the best. And he was pleased with the thought that after it happened, the guilt would be gone.
Just like everything else.
He knew he would have to do it quick. There was no point in lagging. No point taking the risk of one of his friends coming in, and stopping him. What would that help? He knew what he wanted. Adjusting his hand so the pills rolled into a little clutter, he took a moment to look over them. As he focused on his small white answers, he could see in the corner of his eye, the rest of the pills scattered on the floor in front of him. He felt a little bad for having taken them from his parent's medicine cabinet. He wasn't even sure what they were for. But they'd been stashed in his room for a little over a week. Waiting. For the best moment.
Popping the pills into his mouth, and shutting it, his mind was dragged back to his family. His hand fell to the side of him, though the pills stayed under his tongue, almost as if he was afraid to do it. His family would find out, and it would break their hearts. They trusted him enough to allow him to stay here, in his home away from home with his little friends. They'd always been there for him. Fed him. Loved him. And the guilt was easing its way to the front of his mind. How could he do this to them? His mum. His dad. His little brother, Joey. He was a failure. A big, fat, failure.
Grabbing for the bottle of water beside his kneeling form, he chugged at it; letting each and every pill pass. He'd finally done it. It was finally going to be over. It was bittersweet. Setting the uncapped water-bottle back on the floor, he stared down at the remaining pills spread out around him. He was on his knees, hands gripping the cuffs of his orange hoodie. Now all he had to do was wait. He figured that it would be quite agonizing, too. He hoped it wouldn't take too long, either. He'd already swallowed them. That was his ticket out. And there was no turning back.
Sniffling calmly, he reached a hand into his Jeans pocket, pulling out a much abused crumple of paper. Unfolding it carefully, he looked over it once more. It contained a rather short message addressing his family, and his friends. There was a considerable amount of spelling mistakes, as usual for him. But he'd managed to get his point across. At least he hoped. With his eyes blurry like that, it was hard to tell. Except the previously sobbing boy was now strangely quiet, minus the few sniffles here and there.
Feeling the need to add a few things, he took the pencil in his hand, and steadied the paper on the floor with his other. His penmanship was more unreadable than usual, being that the poor boy's hands were a shaky mess. Practically scribbling down the words, "I'm sorry." and "I love you.", he hoped his family would find the strength to get over it. Including his friends, who were more like brothers and sisters to him, then just partners-in-crime. He really hoped that they'd find those two phrases true. What a shame it would be, if they all didn't believe him.
Finding the note good enough for the moment, he folded it in half and let it lay there, amongst the mess of pills. When was this going to work? So far, he didn't feel any different. The silence in the room was unbareable. What would it feel like to die? It was something that had been on his mind for quite a while, now. He didn't think it really mattered, because at some point he'd be dead. But the thought that death would be slow and painful for him, frightened the green-eyed boy dearly. He was doing this to stop from suffering. So why was he suddenly regretting this?
With eyes wide and full of as much fear as one child could hold, he looked to his bedroom door again. Maybe this wasn't the easiest way out. There were other ways. But this one seemed the simplest for him to do. And if he didn't die soon, then he'd have to try something else. But what it was like, was something that he was thinking of. What would happen after? Would he go to hell? Would he go to heaven? Was there even such thing?
His frantic thoughts continued for another minute or so, before his mouth ran before his mind could stop it. "Abby!"
Why he was calling anybody was anyone's guess. And calling her in particular? Well, that made some sense. Though all the kids were close to eachother, Wally and Abigail, or as they knew her, Numbuh Five, were especially close. They had a strange relationship. And their bond was as strong as any sibling's would be. Not to mention how none of the children rarely called eachother by their real names. No time to mentally kick himself for that as punishment. He hadn't had a chance to even think about it, before he was yelling out for her, again.
What could she do? She couldn't save him. And what a shame it would be to explain everything to her. Everyone would be so disappointed of him. He couldn't live with that thought, no sir. Shutting his mouth, and feebishly attempting to wipe away his silent tears, he hoped she hadn't heard him. For the discovery of his pathetic state would be horrendously embarassing. But the chances she'd actually come in were slim. It was late. He wasn't sure how late, but the sun had set for a good amount of hours, and more than likely everyone was in their rooms, already. Possibly already asleep. Hoping he hadn't woken anyone, he began to arrange the rest of the pills in a small pile, to make it easier to scoop them back into the bottle. Why? There was no real reason.
But calling out to her as Abby, rather than Numbuh Five would ensure that she would come in, if'n she'd actually heard him. Cursing himself for being so stupid, he began to urge the pills back into the bottle with his hands. Before he stopped short, hearing a noise just outside his door.
Abigail Lincoln was making her usual late-night trip to the bathroom. No way in hell was she happy to hear Numbuh Four calling out to her. She wasn't one that liked to be disturbed, much like her Australian friend. But what had unnerved her slightly, was the way he called to her. Easing her way towards his door, she prepared herself for what she'd see, as soon as she entered his bedroom. There was never a dull moment with Wally around. And he was as predictable, and unpredictable as a boy could be. There was no way of telling what he was doing in there. Without bothering to knock, she opened the door and trudged inside; half annoyed.
"What is all the yellin'?" She asked, eyes slow enough for her to walk in and stand in front of the boy, before actually seeing him. "Numbuh Five's tryin' t-" She stopped short, seeing her younger friend clumsily slide whatever was in his reach behind him. His face was slightly red and blotchy, no doubt from crying. There were a few tears that slipped down his face silently, but he didn't look sad. He looked more terrified than anything. Terrified that he'd been caught. Changing her tone from one was annoyance, to a one she rarely used with him, she continued; "Are you okay?"
The answer came after a few seconds. "I don't know..."
It wasn't a lie. He honestly didn't know. And he wasn't sure how to answer her, either. Neither of them seemed to like how much his voice quivered when he answered. Sniffling again, he allowed his eyes to wander towards the space in front of him, not wanting to meet her eyes with his own.
"What are you doing in here?" She asked, noticing that he'd awkwardly tried to hide whatever it was he was holding, as she came in the door. She looked genuinely concerned, a bit unsure of how to react to seeing her friend so vulnerable.
Lie about it, he told himself. Maybe she'll go away. "Nothin'."
Swallowing nervously, he looked up at her after a deafening silence engulfed the two of them. As soon as their eyes locked, for however brief a moment, he looked away. "What's that?" He looked up just enough to see her arm outstretched; index finger pointing to the uncapped bottle of pills he'd shoved behind him so quickly. His vocabulary seemed considerably smaller.
"Doesn't look like nothin'."
He would've tried to stop her from walking over and bending down to take the evidence, if it wasn't for her doing it so damn quickly. He let out an audible sigh of defeat, not wanting to see her expression when she found out what it was she held in her hands. Preparing himself for verbal abuse, about how ridiculous he was being, or what in the world he was doing with them, or how disappointed she was in him, or asking if he had been using drugs for long, or anything of the sort; he was surprised when her voice came out soft, and almost eerily comforting.
"Is this what I think it is?"
"That depends." He answered, eyes still locked to the floor. "What are yeh thinkin'?"
"Wally." Don't play around, foo'. He could almost hear her say.
He instantly looked up at that. It was extremely rare for Numbuh Five to use his name. And sometimes with Wallabee Beetles, it was all about tone of voice. A firm, but comforting tone was what she'd used on him just now. And it was working. Like it usually did.
And he cracked. "I-I'm sorry." Fresh tears dribbled down his cheeks, but he made no effort to control them. He'd been caught. There was no need to try and hide it, now.
"You took these?" She asked stern, eyeing him straightly.
His only answer was another apology. "I'm sorry!"
To say that Abigail Lincoln was at a loss, was a huge understatement. What was she supposed to do in a situation like this? "How many did you take?" At first, Wally thought that she thought he was just taking them every now and then, to 'get high'. He knew that some kids abused drugs like that. Teenagers did. But overdosing on them was far too easy. And the dark-skinned girl in front of him seemed to know what he was doing with them. He was just glad she hadn't asked why.
But, still he didn't answer her.
"Ah dunno." His voice cracked slightly. He hadn't counted. He'd just taken a small handful. Hoping that it would've been just enough.
"Estimation, please?" She noted that the bottle was still rather filled up, and only a third or so of the pills were gone. Whether or not that was all him was anyone's guess. It could've been from the previous owner.
There was a strange sigh on her end, and Numbuh Four looked up again, curiously. Her face was unreadable. And before he could apologize to her once more, she was reaching for the white cap, quickly snapping the orange-ish container shut, and stuffing it into her blue robe pocket. She was in her pajamas, and Four could see her white slippers in front of him, before his body was tugged up by his arm."C'mon." Confused, he looked to his female friend. Her voice was a little higher than usual, and her tone still frighteningly calm.
"Where're we going?"
"To the bathroom."
Frowning slightly, with his eyebrow etched down, he asked, "What for?"
"For you to cough up those pills, tha's what."
A/N: SO, Chapter One is complete. I'm sorry for ending it there, but my fingers are sore, and I just don't know what else to write at this point. I'm waaaaay behind in school work (WAY!) and I've turned into a complete Numbuh Four, ngl. So, I really should be doing some of that pile of work I need to turn in. Yeah. I'll have the next chapter up within a few days. I hope it didn't suck too badly, and please review. I hear you can do that!