𝐹𝒶𝓁𝓁𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓇𝓈 - 𝓡𝓲𝓷𝓲 𝓸𝓷𝓮𝓼𝓱𝓸𝓽𝓼

𝓭𝓮𝓪𝓻 𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓲, ( 𝓹𝓪𝓻𝓽 𝓸𝓷𝓮)

TW: Serious shit- depression, bullying, suicide, anxiety, abuse, all kinds of heavy HEAVY topics dealt with. im not romanticizing or promoting anything discussed here. DON'T read if youre sensitive to that kinda stuff.

the no caps is intentional and everyone is a fresh senior in hs.

spent a lil energy to make this ✨aesthetic✨

honestly tho, rickyx therapy is the only ship that really matters.

--

❝𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚊 𝚋𝚎𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚏𝚞𝚕 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚊 𝚋𝚎𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚏𝚞𝚕 𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑?❞

with only forty minutes left for school to begin, ricky bowen inhales shakily as he squeezes his eyes shut and hovers his index finger over the trigger. his honey brown curls are more tousled and unkempt than ever as they press against his pale blue pillow on the bed in his room. The eighteen year old lies still, in fear and anticpation of what is to come, clothed in his favourite combination of the maroon, orange and white hoodie and the cleanest pair of jeans he could find and the trademark black vans.

it's alright, ricky. everything will be over in a second.

-but what about nini? she'll be heartbroken when she finds me like this.. i'm not ready to leave anyone behind yet-

do you want to keep hurting for the rest of your life? let your parents- do you want to watch her raise a new family with that todd while you mope, away from your girlfriend and from all your friends- the only family you have left?

-no.

'kay then. you know what to do.

his adam's apple bobs up and down nervously and in a strained manner due to the presence of the weapon pointed directly under his mouth. ricky clenches his jaw in determination and digs the muzzle into his skin deeper.

i can do this.

his eyes flutter open after a soft exhale in resignation, he just wants to look at everything for one last time. burn this peaceful moment into his memory. the yellow and orange hues of a new day filter through the closed shutters and fall on to the clean wooden floors in stripes. ricky's room has been cleaned of the disturbing amounts of crushed soda cans and soggy takeout boxes but the study table hasn't been touched.

fifteen minutes prior, he swept the stacks of assignments and books and stationery to the ground with his hand and let the gray binder rest in the middle, with a yellow post-it note that simply says "open.", in the neatest scrawl he could manage, his handwriting is something that we do not to talk about.

a small tear streams down the side of his face as he now stares at an old photo of the bowen family, his dad is smiling proudly with one arm looped around a young ricky in a helmet that's obviously one or maybe two sizes larger, standing tall next to his first skateboard after successfully learning to skate on his own without his dad holding his hand. he momentarily basks in the happiness the recollection of that day brings him, forgetting his current... situation. the cold, icy metal pressed against his warm skin reminds him of it, and the curly-headed boy relaxes his grip on the object when yet another picture, this one's a polaroid, catches his eye.

it's one of him standing in front of the eiffel tower with his parents, when his mom took them all on a spontaneous summer vacation to paris. she looks so happy, her wide smile radiates warmth, kindness and just this motherly vibe, a classic contrast to the scowl or the displeased frown she has on display nowadays. she has one hand resting on a grinning twelve-year old him, while another loops around her husband's... now ex-husband's waist. they had asked some tourist to take the photo because he wanted all three of them in a photo together.