Hunter Todd Alexander (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
livefortoday) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
muserevival2017-02-12 02:33 am
livefortoday) wrote in muserevival2017-02-12 02:33 am
Entry tags:
141.1. Lyrics
"Don't lose hope
Even though you can't see it I know
Things are getting better
Don't let go
We are here with you, you know
Everyone needs time
So don't lose hope."
• Don't Lose Hope, The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus
Hunter woke early that morning with a pounding headache. It was still dark, so he grabbed his phone to use the torch, not wanting to bump into anything or trip over and break his neck. He found his way to the bathroom, and went inside before he switched the light on, closing the door over behind him but not shutting it fully. It was a completely unfamiliar bathroom, and he was naked. He went up to the sink, bracing his hands on the edge of it and stared blankly at himself in the mirror.
The last thing he should be doing the morning after talking someone down from a twelfth storey ledge was waking up naked in a stranger's bed. In the cold sobering light of the morning, he felt the guilt begin to set in. He turned the faucet on and leaned over to splash some water on his face, but that didn't do much to allay the regret. Ultimately, Cruz hadn't been out on the ledge for very long. Somehow, by some sheer dumb luck, Hunter got him back inside.
It wasn't any sort of negotiation like he thought it would be. Cruz lost his footing at one point and nearly fell, and in a wave of panic where Hunter was pretty sure he nearly crapped himself, he had desperately screeched at Cruz whether he wanted to let all these people - himself included - watch him die in the most awful of ways. It broke through something, and Cruz had grabbed for his outstretched hand and let Hunter pull him back into the safety of the apartment.
It didn't end there. Cruz was inconsolable and didn't want anyone near him. Hunter copped a punch in the eye for his efforts, but still, he persisted. Cruz was freezing because he had been out there in nothing but skinny jeans and a tank top, middle of winter, on the back of a snow storm. Trying to help turned out to be a near impossible task. After thumping him and telling him to fuck off and die, Cruz locked himself in the bathroom.
The cops had shown up before Hunter got Cruzz off the ledge, but the initial crisis had been averted and the cops were satisfied there was no immediate danger. They wanted to transport Cruz to a hospital for a mental health assessment, but short of forcing him kicking and screaming, it wasn't going to happen. That was when Hunter had stepped in and said he was okay to monitor him for an hour or so, and if he thought anything tipped back into the danger zone, he would call 911. The cops locked the windows, and took the keys with them to check at reception. There would be inevitable damage control, but from the sounds of things, this was Cruz's first suicide attempt and none of his friends indicated he had a mental illness.
Hunter didn't know why he didn't just hand shit over to the police and go home to bed. Something was still tugging at his heart strings about this whole thing. He dealt with suicidal people, and young people at that, every day of his life. It was perhaps that Cruz was a celebrity and Hunter, knowing the battles Justin fought, hoped he could maybe keep this whole thing concealed for Cruz's privacy. Was it the best move to make? Not at all. In fact, it was a pretty big fuck up on his part, which he soon learned.
Cruz didn't open the bathroom door, despite Hunter banging on it. So, Hunter kicked it in and found Cruz slumped on the floor with four pill bottles littered around him. A few different types of pills were spilled across the tiles, but he had clearly taken enough to overdose. There wouldn't have been enough time to digest it, and Cruz hadn't lost consciousness yet. Hunter dropped down beside him and pulled him up into a sitting position, and quickly stuck his fingers down Cruz's throat until it triggered his gag relfex and he started to vomit. A lot. He probably had a gut full of alcohol, but it didn't look like he had eaten in the recent hours.
Having someone's fingers shoved down your throat would be a rude awakening. Hunter didn't care that he had vomit all over his lap, he just shifted then so he would hold Cruz securely around the shoulders, rubbing his hand up and down his arm in a slow rhythm for Cruz to focus on. He reassured him it would be okay, and that he wasn't alone. He coaxed him to rinse his mouth with some water Hunter cupped in his palm for him, and then urged him to try to rest a little.
Hunter sat with him on the bathroom floor for at least an hour, but it was probably closer to two. Cruz began to calm and sober up. Enough to hoarsely ask Hunter over and over why he was doing this. So, Hunter told him over and over why. Not just that he was a Mental Health nurse, but why he had become one. Did this take him back to finding his best friend dead from suicide all those years ago? Fuck, yes. Would that ever stop him wanting to help saves others from suicide? Never.
Cruz was sick three more times, though on his own accord and likely from a hangover beginning to set it because he was dehydrated. He was emotionally wiped out, but soon let Hunter start to clean him up. Or clean them both up, really. There was nothing helpful in the apartment like Gatorade or Pedialyte (too much for a nurse to hope for), but he found apple juice in the fridge so he diluted some of it down in a water bottle and brought it through for Cruz to sip on to try to get some fluids into him.
Now it was morning, and Hunter had woken up naked in bed with Cruz. Splashing his face with water didn't really help how he was feeling, so he went back through to Cruz's bedroom and sat down on the side of the bed. Cruz was still breathing. That was the most important thing. He was sleeping deeply with soft snores, but not loud enough to be annoying. Hunter wished he could say that this 'just happened', but it didn't. After the initial haze of his breakdown and anger that his attempt to end things had been intercepted, he calmed down and seemed to be placid.
Placid, and in need of comfort. That was how this happened. It wasn't, at all, nursing tactics Hunter ever relied on before so he didn't know how he let himself do it this time. And whether he was ready to face up to it or not, he had just gone and cheated on Melody. Saved a life, but cheated on his girlfriend. And suddenly, he just didn't want to face any of that and found himself crawling back into bed with Cruz rather than leaving how he probably should have.
hunter alexander | original character
( cruz appears here with love and permission )
Even though you can't see it I know
Things are getting better
Don't let go
We are here with you, you know
Everyone needs time
So don't lose hope."
• Don't Lose Hope, The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus
Hunter woke early that morning with a pounding headache. It was still dark, so he grabbed his phone to use the torch, not wanting to bump into anything or trip over and break his neck. He found his way to the bathroom, and went inside before he switched the light on, closing the door over behind him but not shutting it fully. It was a completely unfamiliar bathroom, and he was naked. He went up to the sink, bracing his hands on the edge of it and stared blankly at himself in the mirror.
The last thing he should be doing the morning after talking someone down from a twelfth storey ledge was waking up naked in a stranger's bed. In the cold sobering light of the morning, he felt the guilt begin to set in. He turned the faucet on and leaned over to splash some water on his face, but that didn't do much to allay the regret. Ultimately, Cruz hadn't been out on the ledge for very long. Somehow, by some sheer dumb luck, Hunter got him back inside.
It wasn't any sort of negotiation like he thought it would be. Cruz lost his footing at one point and nearly fell, and in a wave of panic where Hunter was pretty sure he nearly crapped himself, he had desperately screeched at Cruz whether he wanted to let all these people - himself included - watch him die in the most awful of ways. It broke through something, and Cruz had grabbed for his outstretched hand and let Hunter pull him back into the safety of the apartment.
It didn't end there. Cruz was inconsolable and didn't want anyone near him. Hunter copped a punch in the eye for his efforts, but still, he persisted. Cruz was freezing because he had been out there in nothing but skinny jeans and a tank top, middle of winter, on the back of a snow storm. Trying to help turned out to be a near impossible task. After thumping him and telling him to fuck off and die, Cruz locked himself in the bathroom.
The cops had shown up before Hunter got Cruzz off the ledge, but the initial crisis had been averted and the cops were satisfied there was no immediate danger. They wanted to transport Cruz to a hospital for a mental health assessment, but short of forcing him kicking and screaming, it wasn't going to happen. That was when Hunter had stepped in and said he was okay to monitor him for an hour or so, and if he thought anything tipped back into the danger zone, he would call 911. The cops locked the windows, and took the keys with them to check at reception. There would be inevitable damage control, but from the sounds of things, this was Cruz's first suicide attempt and none of his friends indicated he had a mental illness.
Hunter didn't know why he didn't just hand shit over to the police and go home to bed. Something was still tugging at his heart strings about this whole thing. He dealt with suicidal people, and young people at that, every day of his life. It was perhaps that Cruz was a celebrity and Hunter, knowing the battles Justin fought, hoped he could maybe keep this whole thing concealed for Cruz's privacy. Was it the best move to make? Not at all. In fact, it was a pretty big fuck up on his part, which he soon learned.
Cruz didn't open the bathroom door, despite Hunter banging on it. So, Hunter kicked it in and found Cruz slumped on the floor with four pill bottles littered around him. A few different types of pills were spilled across the tiles, but he had clearly taken enough to overdose. There wouldn't have been enough time to digest it, and Cruz hadn't lost consciousness yet. Hunter dropped down beside him and pulled him up into a sitting position, and quickly stuck his fingers down Cruz's throat until it triggered his gag relfex and he started to vomit. A lot. He probably had a gut full of alcohol, but it didn't look like he had eaten in the recent hours.
Having someone's fingers shoved down your throat would be a rude awakening. Hunter didn't care that he had vomit all over his lap, he just shifted then so he would hold Cruz securely around the shoulders, rubbing his hand up and down his arm in a slow rhythm for Cruz to focus on. He reassured him it would be okay, and that he wasn't alone. He coaxed him to rinse his mouth with some water Hunter cupped in his palm for him, and then urged him to try to rest a little.
Hunter sat with him on the bathroom floor for at least an hour, but it was probably closer to two. Cruz began to calm and sober up. Enough to hoarsely ask Hunter over and over why he was doing this. So, Hunter told him over and over why. Not just that he was a Mental Health nurse, but why he had become one. Did this take him back to finding his best friend dead from suicide all those years ago? Fuck, yes. Would that ever stop him wanting to help saves others from suicide? Never.
Cruz was sick three more times, though on his own accord and likely from a hangover beginning to set it because he was dehydrated. He was emotionally wiped out, but soon let Hunter start to clean him up. Or clean them both up, really. There was nothing helpful in the apartment like Gatorade or Pedialyte (too much for a nurse to hope for), but he found apple juice in the fridge so he diluted some of it down in a water bottle and brought it through for Cruz to sip on to try to get some fluids into him.
Now it was morning, and Hunter had woken up naked in bed with Cruz. Splashing his face with water didn't really help how he was feeling, so he went back through to Cruz's bedroom and sat down on the side of the bed. Cruz was still breathing. That was the most important thing. He was sleeping deeply with soft snores, but not loud enough to be annoying. Hunter wished he could say that this 'just happened', but it didn't. After the initial haze of his breakdown and anger that his attempt to end things had been intercepted, he calmed down and seemed to be placid.
Placid, and in need of comfort. That was how this happened. It wasn't, at all, nursing tactics Hunter ever relied on before so he didn't know how he let himself do it this time. And whether he was ready to face up to it or not, he had just gone and cheated on Melody. Saved a life, but cheated on his girlfriend. And suddenly, he just didn't want to face any of that and found himself crawling back into bed with Cruz rather than leaving how he probably should have.
hunter alexander | original character
( cruz appears here with love and permission )