TW: Thoughts of Suicide

I’d been distracted at work all day, checking out different articles about the game Tommy had introduced me to nearly three weeks ago.  I’d discovered that I actually really enjoyed online gaming.  It was still terrifying at times to socialize with other players, even with anonymity in place – and my first time in a major in-game city, I almost freaked out at all the people there – but I was starting to learn how things worked and having Tommy there to teach me and answer questions helped a lot.  He’d even been understanding about how nervous I was talking to people in game and offered to talk to them for me while we did voice chat if I played from home.  He’d also helped me figure out what system I’d need when I’d decided to buy a computer for this – hey, I had the money and wasn’t exactly spending it on anything other than books, so no big deal, right? – and tried to make time to play with me either in person or at least talking remotely at least one or two nights a week.  All that in addition to sometimes coming over to watch movies or read to/with me.

I was willing to agree to practically any activity Tommy suggested, to be honest, because I was having an amazing time.  For once, there was someone who would ask me how my day was going, who laughed at my jokes, who wanted to know if he could help if he could tell I was feeling down.  It was just one person, but it was enough for me.  I craved this friendship and would do anything to help it stay in place as long as possible.

I wasn’t under any illusions that it would be permanent.  None of my friendships ever had been.  Look at Sean – I had spent more than two years with him, thought he’d be my future, and then everything had fallen apart all at once.  Or Ben, a friend from my first job.  He’d promised he’d keep in touch when I moved here, but less than three months here and his responses got to be slower and slower.  The last time I’d heard from him was more than a year ago, yet I still kept trying because I hoped that somehow, he’d remember and just reach out again.  And all of my relationships were like that.  Gone, far before I wanted them to.  Something in me hoped for a permanent relationship, but I didn’t think that was actually possible.

Still, I didn’t expect things to fall apart as quickly as they did.  When I got home that day, eager to practice some of the things I’d read about when I was supposed to be working, to my surprise, I found Tommy waiting outside my door.

He seemed upset, so I waited until I unlocked the door and let him in to ask.

“Is everything okay?”  I looked up at him, concerned.

Tommy ran a hand through his hair, not looking at me directly.  “You told me you don’t know Zayne.”

Was this something to do with me?  That was why he was upset?  My heart sank in fear even while I tried to convince myself that it was okay.  It wasn’t like I had lied to him or anything.

“I don’t.”  I told him, watching as he started pacing.

“You’ve never met him?  Even once?”  Tommy spared me a glance, but his eyes were full of an unfamiliar emotion that made me tremble a little inside.

He wasn’t just upset.  He was angry.

“I haven’t.”  My tone was quieter now.  I’d gotten used to talking more energetically with him, not having to keep the volume down because I was feeling so depressed and emotionally exhausted, but his anger was making me afraid.

Not afraid of being hurt physically.  Afraid that somehow I’d done something that was going to make this friendship end.

Tommy almost growled and then reached into his pocket, pulling out his phone, and shoved it in my direction.  “So you’re denying this is you?”  He demanded.

I looked at the picture, confused.  “No,” I agreed, “that is me.”

He just stared at me for a moment, then suddenly let out a disbelieving laugh.  “I can’t believe I actually believed you,” he snapped.  “I genuinely thought you weren’t one of Zayne’s people, but I guess that shows how gullible I am, doesn’t it?  You played your part well.  I guess you can run home to your master now and tell him whatever you learned from all of this.  I hope you’re proud of yourself.”

Without another word, he was gone, storming off down the hall and leaving me alone, lost and confused.

But as I shut the door behind him, reality started to sink in.

Tommy thought I’d lied to him.  That I’d pretended to be his friend.  That everything had been a fake.

Tommy was ending our friendship.

My hands clenched at my shirt and I stumbled a bit towards the kitchen table, trying to sit down as the tears started to fall.  I didn’t even know what went wrong, but then, when did I ever?  Most of my friendships ended for reasons I never understood, so how was this any different?

I put my head in my hands, sobbing until all that was left was dry heaves.  I was all alone again.  For a few brief weeks, I’d been allowed friendship and while that was a desperately needed reprieve from my life…it wasn’t enough.

Was it time, I wondered?  Time to just give up?  To stop trying?  I’d been trying for so long, so hard, fighting to exist while loneliness ate me alive.  Tommy had given me one last barrier against the loneliness, but now that barrier was gone, crushed into a thousand pieces, and the loneliness was back, darker and more suffocating than ever.

I didn’t think I could do it anymore.  No one should be forced to exist like this, I thought.  And I – I couldn’t get out of this existence, could I?  This was all I would ever have.  Endless aloneness.  Emptiness.

Without really thinking about it, I found myself on my feet and wandered over to the kitchen sink, where I picked up the chef’s knife – the sharpest knife I owned – and looked at it as I stood there, vaguely looking at my wrists and the knife and wondering.

I was a shifter.  Could I even kill myself this way?  Would I just heal too fast?  Not succeeding sounded worse than not trying, because at least I could hope for a release if I didn’t try, but if I tried and found out I couldn’t…that would take away the last bit of hope I had.  The hope for peace.  For silence from the screams of pain from my heart.  For relief from the despair in my soul.

I couldn’t do this anymore.  I couldn’t live like this.

So I stood there at the sink, staring at nothing while wavering back and forth between the thought of possible relief and the fear of failure.

~~~~~

Tommy

I practically ran out of Cooper’s apartment, storming down the sidewalk.

I was furious at myself, at Cooper, and at, well, fate?  Whoever was responsible for all of this.  This was an absolute disaster and I really had no one but myself to blame for any of it.  I should have looked into it better, I should have confirmed – but then when I’d realized he was my soulmate towards the end of our first meeting, I’d just ignored all the potential warning signs.  I’d listened to the singing that informed me that he was meant to be my friend and skipped past everything else.  Even when Henri and Adelaide had tried to warn me.

My footsteps slowed as my anger, quick to rise but quick to fade, started to dissipate.  On the one hand, I had the pictures.  Proof that Cooper was lying and had been since the day I’d met him.  On the other hand, though…there was everything since.  All of our time together.

I thought about the way he had started to open up to me since coming home from the hospital.  I’d seen the sadness in his eyes from day one, but until then I didn’t start to understand why.  Had he lied about his family?  I didn’t think so.  His grief that day seemed genuine.

And the excitement in his eyes while flying with me, or the way he got wrapped up in a book or enjoyed a movie we were watching – all of that seemed genuine.  I knew it was genuine.  And if that was so…none of this made sense.  Once he started to open up to me, he was so expressive and honestly, it was downright cute.  He couldn’t fake all of that.  He couldn’t.  Which left…what?

I didn’t know, but suddenly I wasn’t so sure leaving had been the best response.  I stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, confused.  Cooper hadn’t even offered any explanation for the pictures and, well, come to think of it…he’d seemed confused about what was going on.  Afraid, which I’d chalked down to fear of being caught, but it didn’t seem like that, now that I thought about it.

I sighed, my head cooler now, and I realized I was going to have to go back and talk to him.  Apologize for storming out and try to sit down, calmly, and find out what his explanation was.  If it was at all reasonable – if there was even a chance it was true – then I’d take it.  I had to.  He was my soulmate, after all, the singing I’d heard during our first meeting told me as much.  Platonic, probably, but I was gay and he was bi so I was aware it was possible it could develop into something more and, well, the past few weeks had taught me how fascinating he could be, so it wasn’t impossible for it to turn into something more, and truth be told, I kind of wanted it to.  I really liked Cooper.

So I really, really needed him to have a plausible explanation.  Something.  Anything.  Just something I could buy, even if I knew it likely wasn’t true.  I just needed a chance to salvage this because I couldn’t deal with the loss of a soulmate bond.

I turned back and returned more slowly to his apartment, going over everything in my head again and again.  Cooper had never asked me anything that I’d have expected for a spy of Zayne’s.  Nothing he’d learned should be that helpful, either, and to be honest, it was weird for a follower of Zayne’s that they hadn’t taken advantage of saving me and then the enclave basically owing him for getting attacked by the naga.  That…that didn’t fit with the idea of him working for Zayne.  In fact, nothing did, except for that picture.  The picture, which he admitted wasn’t doctored.  The picture of him standing there talking to Zayne, the picture I couldn’t explain.

My mind still in a state of confusion though I was trying to get it as organized as possible, I found myself back in front of his door and knocked.  To my surprise, no answer.  Had he left?  Probably not – Cooper preferred staying at home, it seemed unlikely he’d have gone anywhere.  I hesitated, then knocked again.  What if he had seen me through the peephole and simply didn’t want to talk to me again?  That was a very real possibility.  I tried to ignore the pain in my heart at that thought – that Cooper would intentionally cut me off – and instead tried the handle.

I wasn’t even sure what possessed me to just try the handle – maybe to confirm it was locked, though he always kept it locked even when he was inside – but something in me turned cold when the doorknob turned beneath my hand.  That wasn’t normal.  Something here was very wrong.

I pushed the door open and looked around, but to my relief everything seemed normal, just like it had been a few minutes earlier.  As I closed the door behind me, I saw Cooper standing in the kitchen in front of the sink, standing very, very still.

“Cooper?”  I called quietly.

The alarm bells started to go off again when there was no response, not even the slightest movement to indicate he heard me.  I came closer quietly, not sure if he was angry with me or what exactly to expect, when I discovered something I didn’t expect at all.

Cooper was just standing there, unmoving, but he was holding a knife in his right hand, the blade hovering less than a centimeter from his left wrist, like he couldn’t quite make up his mind or not.

My breath caught and for a moment I couldn’t breathe.  I’d realized Cooper was depressed and lonely, but I hadn’t realized he might be suicidal.  This terrified me – I couldn’t lose Cooper, not like this – but I had no idea what to do.  Call the police?  Possibly, but I could imagine that to him, that might make things worse in the long run.  I should probably try to handle it myself, since I’d caused this, but I wasn’t entirely sure what to do.  He hadn’t seemed to even hear me or be aware that I’d come back even though I was standing only a few inches from him.

After a moment’s pause, I decided I first needed to get the knife out of his hand.  I slipped behind him and carefully wrapped an arm around his waist – ignoring for the moment how perfectly he fit into my arms – and gently, slowly ran my free hand down his right arm until I reached his hand.

“Cooper,” I murmured in his ear, “let me have the knife, please.”

I slid my fingers across his, concerned I would have to pry them off, but to my immense relief, he let me take the knife from him without any resistance.  I set it aside on the counter, then tried to figure out what to do from here.  I…had no idea.