Second Chances Don't Hurt

by veradine

Summary:

Ivan is prevented from his suicide attempt. His mother convinces Andrew to take him in. Ivan gets therapy.

Or, Ivan gets a second chance but andrew still hates him

Notes:

Hi guys these two make me SICK and alsoi hate angst so what if ivan got therapy 🧐🧐🧐
Hey if anyone in the bad things discord sees this hello I am amongst your ranks…………

Hi this was made in word and word is not smart at all because WHAAAT are these grammar suggestions ermmmm so yea sorry if it is SHITTT ……..blame word not me……….ionly use word bcos the movement of the text line scratches my brain like……..its so smooth……..

Im only in 9th grade and am FAILING my honors English class so sorry for any stupid looking errors

Andrew is FAT and gay and you can blame my friend for that it gave me the headcanon idea everyone thank it…………

Chapter 1: 1

MARCH 23 XXXX

IVAN

 

Ivan grunted, sunlight flying to his eyes. He slowly got up, making a tired sound. It was hard to adjust to the feeling of sun blinding him every morning after being in that windowless apartment for so long. His therapist had demanded he get a new place to live, after seeing photos of how downright repulsive of a place it was. It was most definitely not a safe place for someone with so many mental issues to be living in.
Ivan sighed and swung his legs over the small bed, rubbing his eyes that were struggling to remain open. He slowly got to his feet, walking to his dresser and grabbing a new pair of pants and one of his many copies of the Ouija t-shirt he would slide over a white long-sleeved shirt.
“Remember, Ivan –  try to get better habits … like changing your clothes every day.”
Ivan huffed, remembering his therapist’s words. They were right, admittedly…he would just wear the same shirt every day until it got torn or ripped after Andrew had left. Ivan froze. Andrew. Where was he? He usually came in to wake Ivan at around 8:00. He glanced at the clock hanging above his door.
9:30.
Did Andrew leave again? Is he alone again? Ivan must have screwed up. He recalled yesterday – What did he do to make Andrew leave? Ivan scrambled for his phone, desperately checking for anything from Andrew.

 ANDREW (7:42AM)
       Hey – I am going to be grocery shopping before the stores get busy. There’s toast on the kitchen island.

Ivan sighed. Thank goodness…Just a shopping trip. He relaxed and put his phone down on the bedside, blinking a few times and tracing the table’s wood, grounding himself for a bit, reminding himself that he is still here. Ivan slowly dressed, trying to take it slow after his shortly panicked state, before walking out of the small room and into the kitchen. There he saw a cold piece of toast waiting for him atop a napkin on the kitchen island. A glass of apple juice sat next to it. While he preferred to drink orange juice, he didn’t mind a little bit of apple juice, seeing how high orange juice prices are. Ivan wondered if Andrew was buying orange juice at the store.

After eating his cold toast, Ivan took a seat on the couch and opened his journal, unsure of what to write. Maybe he could do what his therapist recommended? He could try journaling his flaws and recognizing how bad they were…Ivan didn’t really want to do that, though. He would rather drink piss for the rest of his life than admit his wrongs. He knows he will upset his therapist by not doing so and would get a profoundly serious chat about ‘blah blah blah admitting your wrongs blah blah blah’ next session, but he didn’t really care. It was the Tumor’s fault anyway. Everything is because of that … creature.
Ivan sat there, not a clue what to do. He could write a story. Stories always made him feel accomplished. Yeah. He’ll do that.

___________________________________________________________________________

 

Ivan stood at the edge of the roof, staring blankly at the ground below. He needed to make a name for himself. He truly did. His father kept saying it. The Tumor surely wanted him to die. He couldn’t bear ending up like his father. Forgotten. A charred mass of bones in a church that barely had five people. This could certainly get on some form of newspaper – man in his early twenties jumped off a roof of a 7-story building. That would be remembered by a few people. Maybe Andrew would know.
Andrew.
Ivan choked back a sob. Andrew. Oh, he was horrible to that man. But it felt good. Good to have Andrew under him. For him to be at the top. For Andrew to feel the broken leg that he had.
Maybe you should wonder how you even got up that far with a broken leg.
Or maybe Ivan was still stuck at the bottom. And when he saw Andrew on his floor, shivering slightly under that slim blanket…oh he could just SEE Andrew down there. At rock bottom. The first step on the staircase of life. And Ivan felt like he was at the top. He felt like he reset Andrew’s progress and finally felt of importance. Like he had created a name for himself.
But no matter how much he genuinely enjoyed being at the top--
It felt wrong.
He loved Andrew. So much. Andrew was like a god to him. And he would be willing to worship every inch of earth Andrew laid his skin on. But what did Ivan do? He abused Andrew’s vulnerability. The mortality of that god he followed. He took advantage of the one-man cult he created for himself. And by goodness did that make him SICK. He hurt Andrew. He truly did. And that is why he left.
Ivan WISHED he were faster with that axe.
“IVAN.”
Ivan didn’t hear, swirling in the bubbling and malicious cauldron of his own thoughts, dazed and staring at the ground so far down.
“IVAN!”
He could faintly hear footsteps. Was someone coming to push him down? He hoped so. He was paralyzed, too hung in his own thoughts to even jump – swirling in his self-hatred and even his disgusting selfishness.
“IVAN, BACK AWAY FROM THE LEDGE!”
strong, desperate arms wrapped around his midsection and roughly pulled back. Ivan yelped, an eye flying wide with panic. Who grabbed him?
Ivan felt his head rest on someone’s leg. He blinked, staring up at his mother. His wonderful mother – whom he had treated so poorly. Taking inheritance. Barely visiting. Convincing her that he is always right.
“Ma?” Ivan whispered, eye wide. His sleepy eye remained partially closed.
“Yes, Ivan, baby, I’m here. Andrew saw your email. Thought you were gonna do something bad. He told me. I came as quick as I could.” She murmured, taking off Ivan’s visor and placing it on the ground, rubbing his head. Ivan missed this – the soft, reassuring tousling of hair from his mother. It always calmed him down when he was a child. His father wouldn’t do much when he would cry. His father would call him a weak man and walk off.
Ivan swallowed a lump in his throat. “The oven’s on. I left the oven on.” He choked out.
His mother’s eyes widened. “Ivan – Oh…Ivan, we need to turn it off. Now.” She raised to her feet and dragged Ivan along, kicking open the door and bolting to his apartment room. The door was ajar, thank goodness. His mother immediately rushed to the kitchen and slammed the off button on the oven.
“Ivan…” She murmured, shaking a bit from fear. “Why?” She turned around, sitting her son down on a chair.
“I don’t –“ Ivan huffed out a breath. “I don’t want to talk about it. Not right now.” He murmured, head in his hands.
“Fine. You can talk about it later.” She grumbled, shaking her head. “But you will talk.”

____________________________________________________________________

MARCH 23 XXXX

ANDREW

 

Andrew shifted through aisles in the store, picking the cheapest things he could find. His job’s pay was decent, enough for rent, food and any other extra items. It was an understaffed server management business that paid around $65 an hour. His game didn’t earn him much, but he used the game money for self-indulgent purchases, like plants. He picked up the cheapest listing of bread, milk, and other groceries. Andrew enjoyed this grocery, it had the cheapest prices around and the products were pretty high quality. And he always had coupons. As he was looking at snacks, he thought back to Ivan. Should he even get him anything? He still disliked him. But…Maybe a few cracker packs wouldn’t be bad. He knew Ivan enjoyed cheesy crackers. He picked up a box of them and walked to the register. He paid for the items and was extremely thankful that the cashier didn’t start up small talk. He very much did not want to talk about his life at 10 in the morning, especially when he was irritated about having to take care of his abuser. Andrew paid in card and quickly left the store, sliding into his car and starting it up. He drove for a while, the drive was unfortunately a bit long, especially when you live in a very inconvenient placed apartment. While on the 10-minute drive back, he thought about things while listening to music playing from his playlist that he managed to hook up to the car.

As much as Andrew wanted to get away from Ivan, he knew Ivan was struggling. Probably had many mental issues that were never addressed. So, he agreed to take care of Ivan. Ivan’s mother had too many things to do, as after her husband’s death she had to take up a few jobs to supply herself. Andrew worked on his game and had an online job where he helped with server management, which gave him lots of home time. In turn, that home time allowed him to watch over Ivan. He still felt nervous around Ivan, but a bit assured knowing that his mother took his axe to her house and isn’t going to let him have it back anytime soon.

Andrew silently bopped his head to the music, humming along to the lyrics.
You take it all, leave nothing on the bone, can’t make it on your own, don’t latch onto me…
Andrew pulled into the parking lot of the apartment complex, turning off the music and the car. He reached over and grabbed a few bags before walking into the lobby of his apartment and walking towards his room. He was extremely thankful he was on the first floor, so he wouldn’t have to take much time bringing in the groceries. As soon as he opened the door, Ivan shot over like a missile. Andrew panicked for a second, thinking the worst, and was partially shocked to see that the only thing Ivan did was cling to him. Andrew sighed, rather annoyed at the man’s desperation.
“Ivan, move. I need to get these groceries in,” Andrew grumbled, trying to push the writer off.
“Yeah – of course. Sorry.” Ivan backed away immediately. “Should I help?” he added tentatively.’
“Fine. There’s a few other bags in my car,” Andrew responded, putting his first batch of groceries down on the table. He followed Ivan outside, watching him as he pulled a few groceries out. Andrew locked the car and led Ivan back into the apartment room, shutting the door behind him. Andrew stared at the man.
“Ivan, I told you not to touch me. Did you already forget that? Or do you just not care?” He snapped, watching as Ivan shrank back at the confrontation. Of course he would do that. Always scared of being wrong.
“Andrew – I’m sorry, I – I was just really worried for a bit.” Ivan murmured shamefully, backing away from the developer.
“Whatever. Help me unpack these groceries. Your therapy is at 13:00 today.” Andrew knew he should have explained to Ivan why that was wrong and that he shouldn’t have dropped it that fast, but he was planning to join Ivan’s therapy today and he could go more into depth about it later.
The two men unpacked the groceries, putting them in their correct spaces and sighing in relief when they were finished. Andrew went straight to working, watching server reports and answering emails and calls about wanting to host websites on their server and fixing minor bugs and playing around with new features he could propose. He jumped slightly when his alarm went off, and he checked what it was for. Ah, right. Ivan’s therapy. He quickly clocked out and alerted Ivan of his therapy.
“Ivan, we’re leaving now. Come on.” He called to the writer, who was furiously scribbling in his notepad. What could he be writing? He examined as Ivan rose to his feet, tucking his notepad into his little satchel that his therapist had him create. For what purpose, Andrew had no idea. He found Ivan’s therapist a little odd.
“Coming,” Ivan walked over, hands in his pants pockets. Andrew nodded and led Ivan back to the car, getting into the driver’s seat and buckling up. He carefully watched Ivan, and had to scold him when Ivan did not buckle. He truly has no sense of safety. Andrew put the car into ignition and began to back out of his parking space.

Chapter 2: 2

Summary:

The therapy. Ivan gets another flashback.

Notes:

hi!!!!! so ummmm were still not feeling the best but my coping mechanisms are working well we guess ??

anyways new chapter yayyyy kinda short sorry.........

our bus almost crashed on the way to highschool gulp!!!!!

IALMOST FORGOTTO SAY BUT THANK YOU ALL SO SO SO MUCH FOR THE SUPPORT IT MEANS SO MUCH AGHHHH <333333

MARCH 23 XXXX

IVAN

 

Ivan drummed his fingers against his leg, glancing at Andrew, then at the window, then at Andrew again. He swallowed some spit that was lingering in his mouth. He turned back to stare at the window – not really looking at the outdoors though. He was ogling at Andrew’s reflection in the glass. He immediately perked up and turned his head when Andrew cleared his throat.
“I’m going to your therapy session today.” The developer stated firmly, eyes remaining on the road. Ivan sank. What? No. I don’t want him to hear what I say about him.
“Oh.” Ivan replied quietly, his eye widened a little in surprise. Andrew finally looked over for a few seconds, studying Ivan’s expression. He couldn’t tell what Andrew was thinking when he looked over at him. Was he judging? Andrew kept his thoughts so secure. Ivan wondered what time it took to earn such a shielded expression.
Andrew turned to gaze back to the road, taking a right turn into the hospital complex that held his therapy building. Ivan was, admittedly, a tad worried. Would his therapist say things to Andrew about how much he speaks fondly of the developer? Would she reveal The Tumor? She couldn’t. Ivan has only mentioned The Tumor a few times. He never elaborates on it. Andrew already knows of his father. Except for the part where he still speaks to him. He could only hope that his therapist would pick up on his facial expressions – the one that said “don’t talk about this”.
“Ivan. Get out of the car.” Andrew frowned, opening his door. Ivan was so lost in his thoughts that he hadn’t realized they arrived, and that Andrew was not looking particularly elated at Ivan’s absentmindedness.
“Sorry.” Ivan replied quietly, immediately unbuckling and hopping out of the seat. He followed Andrew into the building. They both waited in the lobby for a bit, Ivan watched as Andrew’s leg bounced impatiently as they awaited to be called into one of the therapy rooms.
“Do they always take this long? We’re here on time.” Andrew grumbled, looking around for a therapist or at least someone.
“Yeah. They’re a bit slow.” Ivan replied, shivering uncomfortably at how cold this place always was.
“I see. What’s your therapist like?” Andrew asked, looking at Ivan.
“Umm, he’s nice. He lets me talk.” Ivan murmured, feeling like he was stating the obvious.
“Yeah. That’s what therapists are,” Andrew shook his head. “What else, Ivan?”
“Uh, he likes…books…” Ivan blinked. “He has…2 kids. And…” Ivan pondered for a bit, wondering what else he knows about his therapist.
“You don’t know a lot.” Andrew crossed his arms.
“Yeah.”

The two men sat in silence for a bit, and Ivan felt slightly embarrassed. His…ex-friend, who he ranted about to his therapist, had decided to come along without Ivan’s permission? Ivan hoped it was all just a dream. That all of this was a dream. That his entire life didn’t exist, that –

“Ivan?” A gentle male voice sounded. Ivan perked up to see his therapist and smiled lightly.
“Uh. Hi.” Ivan greeted before following after the slightly taller man. Andrew stood up and followed behind the two. Ivan sat on his usual spot, a long couch seated directly in front of his therapist. Andrew sat down on a chair next to the couch. His therapist raised a brow at the newcomer. Ivan swallowed.
“And who’s this?” His therapist smiled gently at Andrew, a subtle hint to introduce himself.
“I’m Andrew. And you are…?” Andrew drew on his sentence.
Ivan’s therapist blinked, before steadying himself. “I’m Dr. Offhan. You can call me Mark though,” Mark greeted, holding out a hand. Andrew shook it firmly before sitting back. Mark turned to look at Ivan, gesturing to Andrew. “Is this…?”
“Yes.” Ivan replied shakily.
“Ah. So, Andrew, why have you joined us?” Mark asked, turning to look at the developer.
“Well, I’m unsure if Ivan has told you this, but he’s been living with me.” Andrew paused for a bit, and Ivan was unsure why. “And I just wanted to check in with his therapist to see if he’s stable enough to get out of my apartment yet.”
Ivan felt himself sink. Andrew was tired of him. Of course he was! Why wouldn’t he be? Ivan was nothing but a suicidal freak who abused him. Andrew probably wants him gone. Probably wishes he’d stayed in that psych ward…

______________________________________________________________________________

 

FEBRUARY 28^TH XXXX

 

Ivan winced at the scent of linoleum as he was walking into the bright atmosphere of the hospital. His mother kept an eye on him as she spoke with one of the workers up at the front desk. He looked around, spotting a pamphlet.
HONEY SPRINGS MENTAL INSTITUTE

Oh.

He should have realized it was one of these places when he walked in. He was too busy thinking of how hopeless he was for failing his attempt. He shouldn’t have sent that email to Andrew. He would be dead. Like he wanted. Not here. Not getting registered at some stupid psyche ward. They’d call him crazy. He felt like begging his mom not to put him here. That would be disgustingly weak. Man up, Ivan.

Before he knew it, he walked into a room and sat down in a chair.
“So, Ivan, please tell us what happened.” A nurse smiled at him. The nurse had wavy blonde hair, brown eyes, and wore a blue nurse’s outfit. Her lips were pursed into a line and her brows slightly furrowed as she scanned him up and down.
“…I uhm…” He stammered for a bit, not wanting to talk about this at all. He looked over at his mom, who was sitting next to him. She shook her head, obviously not going to speak for him. Ivan slumped and turned back to stare at the nurse.
“I tried to jump…and uhm…my mom stopped me…” Ivan murmured.
“Why did you try to jump?” The nurse asked, writing down what Ivan assumed to be his words on a notepad.
“I…” Ivan hesitated for a bit, glancing around nervously. “He…left. And…I needed to make a name for myself.” Ivan murmured quietly.
“Who left?” The nurse continued, looking down at her notepad and continuing to write.
“My friend.” Ivan almost choked at the word. He wasn’t really a friend to Andrew, was he? Would Andrew still even consider him a friend? No, he probably wouldn’t. Not after what Ivan – No, it wasn’t Ivan at fault here. It was the Tumor. Always was.
That’s what Ivan believed.
“I see. And why do you have to make a name for yourself?” She replied, looking up from her notepad and staring at Ivan. It unnerved him a bit, and he nervously glanced from the table to her repeatedly.
“I – Uh…Don’t want to end up like my father.” He fiddled with his fingers. Ivan’s mother immediately perked up, an eyebrow raising in worry.
“What happened to your father?” The nurse asked, flipping a page in her notepad.
“He…” Ivan blinked, not wanting to finish.
“His father ran into a burning building to save people. He died.” Ivan’s mother finished for him, her voice choking up a bit at the reminder of her perished husband. The nurse gave his mother a look, before turning back to Ivan.
“Alright. Ivan, stay here. Your mother and I are going to discuss in another room.” The nurse stood up and opened the door, gesturing for his mother to come with.
Ivan sat there in the chair, glancing around worriedly. There was nothing to do in this room. Nothing. He got bored quickly and scanned his surroundings. The windows were small. Barred. Like a prisoner’s room. The chairs were heavy. Not like a chair you’d see at a school or restaurant. Probably to keep them from being thrown. There was a closet with a door slightly ajar. He looked at the ceiling. A camera was hung next to a light. Ivan stood up, looking at the door. The window on the door had wire set up, once again like a prison. He already felt how uncomfortable this place would be, with wires and bars set up on windows, the lights extremely bright, almost blinding, the disgusting yellowish color laid on the walls like a piss stain. He approached the closet, slowly opening the door.
Markers and crayons sat in bins, used and barely cleaned. Coloring pages laid dormant on the shelves, small notebooks without spirals laid atop those coloring pages. There was not a single pen or pencil in the closet.

Ivan froze when the door opened again, and quickly shut the closet and stood there, eyes wide. The nurse and his mother walked back into the room, the nurse staring at him questioningly and his mother looking at him with a sorrowed expression. Ivan quickly sat back down in his chair, shivering as he felt the nurse’s eyes remain on him.
“Ivan. You will be admitted here.” The nurse spoke, shoving some papers towards him. “You have to sign some things since you’re an adult, but you are at risk, and your mother has agreed to admit you.” She spoke, and Ivan could sense the tinge of annoyance in her voice.
Ivan swallowed thickly. How long would he be here? They probably thought he was crazy. He fought back tears and signed the papers. Don’t fucking cry. Grow up. Be a man.

______________________________________________________________________________

MARCH 23 XXXX

ANDREW

 

Andrew firmly shook Dr. Offhan’s hand. He looked the man up and down. He was a tall, slightly lanky, young man. His wrist held a watch and a small brown and tan beaded bracelet. He wore a brown cardigan over a tan shirt. He wore brown jeans and tan converse. His socks seemed to be tall, and were patterned with brown and tan diamonds. Andrew assumed him to be early 30s or late 20s. He seemed to enjoy matching colors. Andrew glanced between Ivan and Dr. Offhan, watching as they held a conversation of few words.
“Is this…?”
“Yes.”
Andrew watched Ivan’s nervous expression. Did he really not want Dr. Offhan to meet him?

“Ah. So, Andrew, why have you joined us?” Dr. Offhan asked, looking at Andrew with a friendly expression.
Andrew replied quickly. “Well, I’m unsure if Ivan has told you this, but he’s been living with me.” He paused, watching as Dr. Offhan’s demeanor did not adjust, so he assumed that Ivan told his therapist that he was living with the developer. Andrew was a bit surprised at that, he didn’t expect Ivan to tell Dr. Offhan that. “And I just wanted to check in with his therapist to see if he’s stable enough to get out of my apartment yet.”
Andrew was a bit hesitant on speaking that last part, and glanced at Ivan to see his face visibly sadden.
“I…see.” Dr. Offhan replied, also glancing at Ivan. “So, Andrew, why did you let Ivan stay with you?” He added shortly, pulling out a computer and placing his hands near the keyboard.
“Well…His mother asked me to, and as much as I dislike Ivan and what he did,” Andrew inhaled. “I felt pitiful. I shouldn’t, but I do.”
Dr. Offhan nodded and typed something down. Andrew raised a brow. Why was Dr. Offhan writing about what he was saying? This was Ivan’s session, not his. Andrew looked over to Ivan. Oh. The man was zoned out. Andrew stood up to go shake him, but Dr. Offhan cleared his throat.
“Let him be for a bit. You being here is probably very stressful for him, and he’s probably thinking.” The man stated.
“Oh.” Andrew blinked. Would a therapist really let their patient zone out?
“And usually these are flashbacks. He…does this a lot. And he talks about it after. So don’t bother him for now.” Dr. Offhan added quickly, most likely seeing the doubtful expression on Andrew’s face.

Andrew and Dr. Offhan spoke for a while, Andrew giving his side of the story about Ivan’s abuse, with Dr. Offhan nodding along, sometimes asking questions, and typing away. Dr. Offhan cleared his throat, ceasing Andrew’s talking as he gestured to Ivan, who was now seemingly back, and blinking at Andrew. For what reason, Andrew had no idea until Ivan finally spoke.

“You…really think that about me?”

Notes:

yummay sorry it was so short ill try to make it longer next time....

Chapter 3: 3

Summary:

Damn therapy gets heated
What are these men doing yo?

Notes:

hi!!!
dont expect a chapter next week, finals are here....gulp...

this was supposed to be published yesterday but oh well stuff happened...

anywuas read end notes.........

therapist perspective :eyes:

hi
bye
have fun!!!!!
(or not. there's a little bit of angst.)
my school keeps blocking ao3 but i prevail...fanfiction is mine....

MARCH 23^rd XXXX

MARK OFFHAN

 

Mark could tell these two men had issues. From what Ivan told him, he already knew how much these men had truly screwed each other up.

Ivan had described to Mark in very vivid detail of how much he loved Andrew, of how much he worshipped the man, and how much he enjoyed trying to rule Andrew. Mark knew that Andrew probably did not like being abused in the slightest and was probably furious that he would have to house his abuser. He could tell that pity and need was Andrew’s greatest weakness just by listening to him describe how he even got into the situation. He could tell that the longing for control and love for Andrew was Ivan’s greatest weakness. Dr. Offhan had typed the many differences between the two stories shared with the men.

Ivan’s story was more supporting of his own side;

“I wanted to help Andrew. I felt compelled to. He’s my friend. Right? And…he has a game. A game with lots of recognition. And maybe if I helped him…I would be credited. Just a bit. And I would be able to make a name for myself. But…I need to be above Andrew. Andrew is like…a deity to me. He’s wonderful. I need to be like him. He has a name for himself. I need one too. In order for me to have become just like him – so high on that pedestal of accomplishments – I need to beat him down and climb on him. But that was so wrong. It felt so good, but it was so wrong. I never achieved anything in the end, I only lost. I lost Andrew…I…”

Mark was, admittedly, a bit unnerved by that. Andrew’s side was, although defensive of himself, was understanding of Ivan’s motives…the good ones, not the bad ones.

“I know he wanted to help me. So I agreed. Rent was soon and I could not stabilize myself. Moving in with him was a breath of fresh air until I was choked. But…No matter how much I wanted to leave, I…I loved him. He was helping, right? Until I realized he was harming. That night, with the TV blasting, us fighting, Ivan…Ivan seeking my pity. I realized how horrible of a situation this was. It wasn’t healthy. For both of us. As soon as Ivan seemed to just…switch, I had a gut feeling that I had to go.”

Mark was familiar with how Ivan would seemingly switch. It took him around a few weeks to get Ivan to open up about the Tumor and his Father. Ivan claimed that the Tumor was with him in that moment, the moment where he kept torturing Andrew. That it was telling him to finally climb atop Andrew. To get the axe.

And now the two men were there. Staring at each other. Ivan seemed a little heartbroken, even remorseful. Andrew stared back at Ivan, seemingly shocked, not expecting the writer to have heard his rant.

And now they would have to talk it out.

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

MARCH 2^ND XXXX

ANDREW

 

Just a few days.

Andrew told himself that multiple times as he approached the doors to Honey Springs Mental Institute. Just a few days is all he’ll deal with Ivan for. After that, he’s gone. His abuser will leave and he can keep to himself again. He was thinking maybe 4-5 days. 2-3 would be better. Oh well.

He approached the front desk. “Hey, I’m here to pick up Ivan XXXXXXX. He was discharged.” Andrew spoke calmly, looking at his phone for anything from Ivan’s mother.
“Uh-huh. Can I get confirmation? Your name, age—” The nurse at the desk asked.
“Yep. Andrew XXXXXX. 27. His mother phoned me in to pick him up. She can’t care for him, so I will.” He replied quickly. This place looked miserable, and he wanted to get out as soon as he could.
“Okay. We’ll send him out.” She replied, before standing up to walk through one of the large doors. A few moments later, Ivan walked out carrying a few paper bags that were filled with clothes and other necessities. Andrew raised a brow. Is that all they’re allowed to bring? Just 3 bags worth of clothes and toiletries?
When Ivan looked up to see him, his face dropped. Andrew could see the shame filling his expression immediately. Good. You better be fucking shameful.
“Come on,” Andrew gritted his teeth, glaring at Ivan with an angered gaze. Why did he, of all people, have to be the only friend that Ivan had? Why couldn’t Ivan just had found other people? They could be caring for him, not Andrew.

Ivan walked sheepishly behind Andrew, eyes downward as he jumped up into the coder’s car.
“I-…Where’s my mom?” Ivan asked quietly. Andrew heard the slight fear in his voice. Why the hell is he scared? He abused me.
“Busy.” Andrew grunted, putting the engine into power.
“Are you bringing me to her?” Ivan added, fiddling with the paper bag’s texture. Why is he so sheepish? What the hell does this place do?
“No. You’re staying with me. You know your mother is juggling a few jobs. So she asked me to care for you.” Andrew tapped his finger on the steering wheel impatiently. Ivan stared at him for a while, and Andrew felt slightly uncomfortable under his gaze.
“Sorry for that email.” Ivan murmured after a while, and Andrew gripped the steering wheel harder.
“Can you be quiet?” Andrew grunted, feeling already tired of Ivan’s talking. Why wouldn’t he be tired of the writer? Ivan was an abusive prick, and as soon as he steps foot in Andrew’s new apartment, he’ll probably start using the developer again.

The roads and buildings zoomed by in the car windows, and Ivan stared out of the glass, seemingly lost in his own thoughts. Andrew took small glances at the gray-skinned robloxian every now and then. He was missing his regular visor. The ward must not allow things like that. It felt disorienting to Andrew, driving his old abuser around after he tried to jump off a building.

Andrew took a left turn and parked his vehicle into the lot of his new apartment.

_____________________________________________________________________________

MARCH 23^rd XXXX

IVAN

 

“Gosh, I hate him. I hate him so much. But I pity him. His mother is a wonderful woman. I felt like I owed her. And her son…He’s a horrible person. But I love…loved…him, and I just…He was disgusting to me, and I hate him but…I just can’t let him go. I miss him, I miss when he was nice, when he was…not some monster to me. I miss when I could enjoy his presence. But I hate him. And I still want him gone. He disgusts me, how he could put me through that and still expect me to stay.”

Those words were a bullet to Ivan’s heart. The twist of a knife in his back. An ugly aftertaste after a sweet snack.

“You…really think that about me?” Ivan choked out, staring at Andrew with widened eyes. He saw Andrew stiffen, looking at him with a shocked expression.
“Ivan…I thought you were having a moment, you weren’t supposed to hear that.” Andrew replied quietly.
“Yeah, I was having a moment. I…Did not expect to come back to you shaming me,” Ivan began to get agitated. What gave Andrew the right to smack-talk him when he was zoned out? When he was thinking of his time in that stupid hospital?
“Ivan, listen. Your therapist asked me about my side of the story, and I gave it. Don’t fucking fight me about telling the truth.” Andrew defended himself, looking to Mark for backup, who in turn nodded.
“Yes, Ivan. It’s true,” Mark added, before leaning back in his chair. Ivan could sense that Andrew was a bit upset at how that was all his therapist said.
“Look, Ivan. You abused me. There’s no changing that.” Andrew snapped, shaking his head at Ivan. “And since you abused me, I’m not going to like you. That’s how it works,” He continued.
“Well why the fuck did you even house me? You could have just said no. I know you started yapping about pity and shit, but you could have just forced it down and rejected me.” Ivan snarled back, anger brimming.
“Ivan! I can’t just turn down a person in need. I’ve heard stories about how shitty mental hospitals are, and your mother was in no place to raise you with her multiple jobs.” Andrew retorted quickly, growing impatient with Ivan’s fighting.
“Whatever.” Ivan grumbled, crossing his arms. Mark gave him a pointed look, raising a brow at how he shut down the fight.
Ivan noticed that Andrew was glaring at him, scrutinizing him. “What? Checking to see if I can get out of your house yet?” Ivan snapped, feeling irked at the look he was given.
“Actually? Yes. Yes I am. I don’t want you in my house. I don’t want you near.” Andrew retorted, rubbing his forehead.
“Then kick me out!” Ivan yelled back. Mark watched with a raised brow, seemingly hesitating.
“I can’t kick you out, who knows if you’ll just fucking kill yourself again!” Andrew snapped, making a wild hand gesture in anger.
“So what?! You probably want me dead.” Ivan retorted, crossing his arms. Andrew’s eyes went wide, and his jaw ticked.
“Don’t make fucking assumptions.” Andrew snapped back.
“Gentlemen.” Mark cleared his throat. Both the writer and developer’s gazes whipped to the therapist. Andrew raised a brow. “Let’s not get too heated,” Mark continued. “So, Andrew, explain gently to Ivan why you think that of him.”
Andrew turned once more to look at Ivan. “Oh, expect a lot. First…”

Notes:

Thought I’d add in a little something to share how I write these stories and what to expect as I write this fic! <3
1. Writing is a coping mechanism for me sometimes!!! I often write the most when I’m extremely bored or need to escape from the real world and indulge in little fictional stories
2. we are plural!! Usually it’s only pluto (me) writing fics when I can, as my other members don’t expertise in writing. Sometimes chive will write for me as they front very often during school and when my parents are near, I tend to leave little notes in my drafts for what chive should write and will go and revise things when I am back!
3. I tend to leave on cliffhangers a lot!!! It’s a common technique authors use to leave readers wanting more :eyes: and I like my stories as engaging as possible….
4. i am a busy busy highschooler with finals coming up….if there are no chapters for the next few weeks PLSS forgive me I am too busy with finals to write about gay men…
5. I have a lil bit of backlog! I have a plot that can change at any time due to my horrible indecisiveness lmfao…backlog goes to about the next 2-3 chapters and each one has at least one completed POV!
6. I get burnout very quickly and I have some pretty bad executive dysfunction that makes it hard for me to work on things
Ok that’s all thank you!!!

Notes:

ohhhh my gosh thank you for reading until the end of my fic youre so epicsauce lets get married

ok but in all seriousness THANK YOUUUUU

if any of the characters are ooc im so sorry...............