Oh wow! My first multi-chap! This is so exciting! I hope you like it! As usual the main pairing is USUK, there'll also be some GerIta and Franada and one other pairing, but that's a surprise for later!
In the summary, the 'he treats his ills with daily pills' comes from the musical Blood Brothers.
This is the prologue, just something to set the story. Uhm, if any of you are confused by this, it makes more sense if you know that Arthur has schizophrenia in this story.
Anyway I would really appreciate it if you guys would review. Negative and critical reviews are accepted as well as nice ones! I just really want feedback; because I probably won't continue it if no one shows interest in the story… ooph… sorry if that sounded bitchy.
Anyway, please read, enjoy, and review! The first chapter should hopefully be up by next week! Hopefully.
'They're not real…'
Then again, what exactly is real? Is something only real because everyone else can perceive it? Real, by definition, is, after all:Being or occurring in fact or actuality; having verifiable existence: True and actual; not imaginary, alleged, or ideal.
But they felt and looked so real to him. They were his friends, his memories, his… life. Or at least the closet thing he had to one.
His mother didn't understand it. His peers at school mocked him for it. He was an outcast. An outcast by choice. He wanted to be alone. If he was alone he didn't have to worry about people looking at him strangely. Telling him there was nothing there when he was talking to his "friends."
So he stayed away. Stopped talking to his classmates and school friends. Stopped participating in social activities.
However it was worse at home. He'd lock himself up in his room. Stopped eating meals and taking care of himself. It got so bad that his mother had to force him to eat and shower so he wouldn't starve or get sick.
He couldn't take it. Nothing made sense. Nothing.
"We make sense. We're your friends!" No! Those voices, they weren't… they're not…
'They're not real… they're not real!' He chanted it like a mantra over and over in his head, hoping if he thought it; it would make them go away. The voices, the creatures, the dreams… his friends, memories, and life would just go away, and he could be normal.
"We are real! We're the only ones you can trust! Don't listen to them!"
"Stop it! Shut up!" He hissed, swatting at voices and images only he could see. Them, of course was referring to the doctors, psychiatrists, and psychologists, all telling him there was something wrong with him; that what he knew as life wasn't real and that he needed help. Help to get better.
"You don't need to get better Arthur! You need us, your friends!" But they're not real! He needed to remember they're not real.
"You're not real. None of you are!" He said, practically yelling, hiding his face in his hands as he huddled in the corner of his room.
'I want it all to go away. I can make them go away…'
"I can make you leave me alone!" He whispered, revealing a razor that had been hidden in his palm.
Suddenly there was a knock. He resisted the urge to look over to his locked door.
"Arthur dear? Are you alright? I thought I heard voices…" His mother's voice trembled with worry as she jiggled the knob, attempting to open the door.
"Arthur?" She called again, but her calls were ignored as he raised the blade to his wrists.
"Don't answer her, Arthur! She doesn't understand you!" The voices cried, crowding around him as he sliced a deep cut through his wrist, deep red rubies spilling out slowly in trills.
"Arthur! Sweetheart, please open the door!" His mother cried helplessly and banged on the door, hoping desperately for a response, but like his "friends" she was ignored as he cut through the pale skin of his other wrist, taking comfort in the warmth of the red liquid that spurted out and flowed down his arm.
As the door banged and his mother continued calling his name, the voices and images grew weaker. And as they grew weaker, his vision became fuzzy, blurry, and darker. His mind grew hazy and tired, and he could feel himself drifting off into the freedom that was unconsciousness…
"Arthur please! Open the door! Open the door Arthur please! Please! ARTHUR!"
… and let the darkness envelope him in a warm embrace.
Well hopefully that wasn't too confusing or bad or weird or anything! Please, please, please tell me what you thought, tell me if you're interested, even tell me if you hated it! I just want to know if this fic is worth my time to write and your time to read. Ok, thus ends my ramblings.