request? yes for @tamiito !! sorry this took so long, i feel awful. if there’s anything you want me to change, please tell me and i’ll get right on it :)
titled: untitled (flash thompson x reader)
when flash’s pills fall out of his pocket during class, he has to face what he’s been hiding for so long.
warning: angerissues!flash thompson, flash being anxious, tough love??
word count: 1,266
“You’re so going to rock this.”
Students slowly begin filling the large classroom. Lots of laughter and conversation being squeezed in before the bell rings. Ten kids hovered over the same cell phone that probably has the answers to the homework that’s due in about ten minutes.
In a corner at the back of the room, you sit with your very anxious boyfriend. The boy spent the past week perfecting his powerpoint, and it’s amazing. Every requirement has been fulfilled and exceeded, and he totally bragged about it all weekend.
The only thing he hadn’t been thinking of during his editing and revising, was the actual presentation. Before he was diagnosed, he used to be pretty good with crowds and public speaking. Part of him felt that because his doctor claimed, ‘anxiety’ that he had to act anxious all of the time. But it wasn’t like that anymore, his medicine started to work and things started to get better.
However, there were always those day's.
Flash can hear what your saying, but he isn’t listening. He sits in front of you with a doubtful look on his face, glancing up at the front of the class a few times before he sighs. “I don’t know, babe.”
Your face curls into one of disappointment, “Of course you can do it, you poured your heart and soul into this!”
Another sigh, looking away from you, and back up the teacher standing in front of the classroom setting up the projector.
You put your hand on his shoulder, “If you feel yourself…” You pause, thinking about his anxiety. “Just stop, ask for an extension.”
He nods, looking nervously at the teacher again.
“You can do this, I love you.”
The frown on his face falls, those three words fill him with warmth and for one perfect moment he feels relaxed. “I love you too.”
“Alright Flash, you can start us off today.”
And then the moment is over.
It feels like forever as he walks up the row of desks to the front of the room. He can feel the eyes of his classmates, mostly upperclassmen because of the AP level, burn into his skin.
Finally, he reaches the front. Pulling his presentation up on the computer makes him feel more nervous, and turning around to face thirty bored 17 year olds doesn’t help either.
As he presses the spacebar and starts the slide, his heart begins to beat fast “Hey everybody, my name is Flash Thompson. And my topic is-” His pauses before saying it, even though it’s already on screen.
“Is Mental Illness Hereditary?”
From the back of the classroom, past all of the bored, tired students, he sees you. And you smile at him, small and simple. And it plants another seed of warmness inside of him.
“Great topic, Flash. Why did you chose it?” Mrs. Phillips, the AP Psychology teacher is a very nice woman. She’s younger than most of the teachers at Midtown, pretty, with short black hair and a knack for bad puns. Loved by most of her current and former students- except in this moment, one of them.
He stiffens instantly, holding his breath. Flash knows why he chose it, of course he knows. The problem is, does he want everyone else to know? Is he ready for people- strangers, to be exposed to that part of his life?
“Um,” He starts, looking down at his shoes. Noticing his right shoelace is untied, he kneels down to fix it, and hopefully think of an excuse.
Without realizing, a small orange bottle falls from his pocket and rolls into the aisles of upperclassmen.
Flash’s heart stops. Why the fuck would he keep his medicine in his pocket?
A senior picks it up hesitantly, and stands up to give it back to Flash. His brows furrow a little bit, “Prozac? You okay dude?”
Better believe that Flash wants to grab his pills, he wants to do something. But he can’t, it’s like he’s frozen in place with fear, and embarrassment. His head is starting to hurt again, something that hasn’t happened since his meds started to work.
Jesus, why was this happening now?
“I-I-” And then he can’t handle it, the eyes of the seniors looking confused and accusatory just tear him apart. “I can’t do this!” He exclaims loudly.
Quickly, he runs out of class, tripping a bit on his untied shoelace.
Right away, you stand up from your seat. You squeeze between the aisles as fast as you can before you reach the senior and carefully take it from his hands. “Thanks.” You mumble, giving him a hard look. He squirms a bit under your gaze.
You take your phone from your back pocket and send a text message to your boyfriend.
are you okay? please come back.
The teacher looks around at the class uncomfortably, “Well, maybe someone else should go.”
“No.” You tell her, “He’ll be back any second just-” Your phone vibrates.
it’s over for me. everyone in here knows about the anti-depressants, and people will never stop talking about it.
The easy thing to do is to run after Flash, to console him. Rub his head and tell him that he can try again tomorrow. He’ll want to ditch the rest of the class so he can feel better, and you’ll agree and go with him to get frozen yogurt.
But it won’t help anyone.
You won’t go after him and make him feel better.It does nothing for you, and it only hurts him. You won’t always be there for him, you can’t constantly be there to tell him everything will be okay.
Because sometimes everything won’t be okay, and that’s fine! That’s more than fine, that’s life. And that’s what Flash needs to learn.
well at least come back here and make sure they’re talking about something true.
You walk back over to your seat and wait patiently for another vibration signifying his reply, but it never comes.
Mrs. Phillips gives you an apologetic look before walking over to the computer, hand gripping the mouse.
“Wait.” A deep voice objects, standing awkwardly with his hands in his pocket, and his deep brown eyes a fading red.
The teacher moves out of the way, and Flash takes her place. His eyes make contact with yours and you give him another smile. This time, he returns it.
“I chose this topic because I have anger issues.” He waits for the reaction, the gasps, the strange stares, the rude looks. They never come. “It also comes along with depression and anxiety, which just proves how good of luck i have.”
A small chuckle is passed around the room.
Flash loosens up a bit, “So I chose this topic because I wanted to know if someone in my family could have passed this onto me. More importantly, if there’s a risk of these things going to my children one day.”
Mrs. Phillips nods her head, an impressed smile on her face.
“So uh,” He begins, running a hand through his hair. “Here it is.”
Like expected, Flash did just as well on his presentation as he did on the actual powerpoint. By lunch a lot of people knew about his anger issues, and like expected a lot of people were talking about him.
But like you told him, he was glad they were saying the truth. Not some rumor that he takes Prozac because he’s suicidal or something exaggerated like that.
Even though he wasn’t fully prepared to let people know his deepest darkest secret, now that they do things are better.