[Ficlet] Part of a Balanced Breakdown
Title: Part of a Balanced Breakdown
Series: TDS
Rating: PG-13 for a couple curses
Warnings: Pretty cracky.
Disclaimer: The television shows, movies, books, etc. in this story are not owned by me. The people and/or characters are also not owned by me. No money is being made from this venture.
Summary: Written for today's open thread challenge, for the line in the LJ cut. A little to long to be left in a comment. I dunno what's wrong with me. (And I hope I did the tags right.)
You have to stop eventually; this isn't healthy.
Jon ignored the little voice in his subconscious. He would've rather told it, rather gladly, to shut the fuck up with its superior little life advice, but he didn't want to call even more attention to himself. It was bad enough that someone, probably an intern, had realized he'd locked himself in the bathroom for over an hour now. It wouldn't do for them to think he was crazy.
You already are crazy to be doing this.
The voice was right. The stupid little voice was always right. But it didn't know the urges, the aching cravings it was asking Jon to resist. That was just like the superego, to be a nagging little bitch with absolutely no understanding.
Hey, that hurt. :(
"Then leave me alone," Jon growled.
"We just want to know why you're in there like this!" someone on the other side of the door said. It sounded like Riggle.
"I wasn't talking to you!" Jon snapped. He might as well have added, "Like, duh!"
"Jon, we know what you're doing in there. We found the box in your office trash. We can smell it, for Christ's sake," Rob called through the door.
"You don't know anything! NOTHING!" Jon reacted.
"I've got it!" someone else said, and after a moment the door handle started jiggling.
Jon cursed; they had the key. He looked around the little room for an escape, but knew he had too much chub to squeeze through the little window behind him. He throttled the stick in his hand. "This is all your fault!!"
The door opened and Jon reeled against the wall. Nowhere to go, nowhere to hide, the voice said vindictively. Jon didn't reply, not with Rob right there, towering in the doorway.
Rob held out his hand. "Give it to me, Jon."
"No. NEVER."
"Jon..." Rob said warningly.
Jon clutched it to his chest. Rob sighed, coming into the bathroom and reaching for it, grimacing as he got his hand around it. Jon tried to hold on, but it slipped from his fingers, and all he was left with was a greasy spot on the front of his grey t-shirt. "Give it back!" he cried.
"Jimmy Dean doesn't love you, Jon!" Rob yelled, handing the pancake-wrapped sausage on a stick to one of the others behind him.
"No! No! It's not true!" Jon wept, sliding down the wall and curling up into a ball.
Rob knelt on the floor and wrapped Jon up in a hug. "It is true," he said softly, patting Jon's hair. "But it's gonna be okay, Jon. It's gonna be okay."
I hope you choke on an apple in rehab, the voice said.
Series: TDS
Rating: PG-13 for a couple curses
Warnings: Pretty cracky.
Disclaimer: The television shows, movies, books, etc. in this story are not owned by me. The people and/or characters are also not owned by me. No money is being made from this venture.
Summary: Written for today's open thread challenge, for the line in the LJ cut. A little to long to be left in a comment. I dunno what's wrong with me. (And I hope I did the tags right.)
You have to stop eventually; this isn't healthy.
Jon ignored the little voice in his subconscious. He would've rather told it, rather gladly, to shut the fuck up with its superior little life advice, but he didn't want to call even more attention to himself. It was bad enough that someone, probably an intern, had realized he'd locked himself in the bathroom for over an hour now. It wouldn't do for them to think he was crazy.
You already are crazy to be doing this.
The voice was right. The stupid little voice was always right. But it didn't know the urges, the aching cravings it was asking Jon to resist. That was just like the superego, to be a nagging little bitch with absolutely no understanding.
Hey, that hurt. :(
"Then leave me alone," Jon growled.
"We just want to know why you're in there like this!" someone on the other side of the door said. It sounded like Riggle.
"I wasn't talking to you!" Jon snapped. He might as well have added, "Like, duh!"
"Jon, we know what you're doing in there. We found the box in your office trash. We can smell it, for Christ's sake," Rob called through the door.
"You don't know anything! NOTHING!" Jon reacted.
"I've got it!" someone else said, and after a moment the door handle started jiggling.
Jon cursed; they had the key. He looked around the little room for an escape, but knew he had too much chub to squeeze through the little window behind him. He throttled the stick in his hand. "This is all your fault!!"
The door opened and Jon reeled against the wall. Nowhere to go, nowhere to hide, the voice said vindictively. Jon didn't reply, not with Rob right there, towering in the doorway.
Rob held out his hand. "Give it to me, Jon."
"No. NEVER."
"Jon..." Rob said warningly.
Jon clutched it to his chest. Rob sighed, coming into the bathroom and reaching for it, grimacing as he got his hand around it. Jon tried to hold on, but it slipped from his fingers, and all he was left with was a greasy spot on the front of his grey t-shirt. "Give it back!" he cried.
"Jimmy Dean doesn't love you, Jon!" Rob yelled, handing the pancake-wrapped sausage on a stick to one of the others behind him.
"No! No! It's not true!" Jon wept, sliding down the wall and curling up into a ball.
Rob knelt on the floor and wrapped Jon up in a hug. "It is true," he said softly, patting Jon's hair. "But it's gonna be okay, Jon. It's gonna be okay."
I hope you choke on an apple in rehab, the voice said.