HOMRA One shots (K project)

Kosuke x Suicidal Reader

Okay, so the very first thing I want to say before you read this is that this will be triggering. I understand the depth of this stuff, I know how awful it is. So I tried to give it a happy ending, and make it as motivational as possible, but there will still be dark spots. Long story short, if this stuff is triggering to you, please DO NOT read, I don't want to hurt any of you. <3

In other words, this was a request, so... enjoy ? (:

~ Reader's POV ~

                 

"Somehow I ended up this way, stuck in a world I didn't want to be in, constantly feeling morose as I passed other faces on the street, their features smiling and laughing or just content.

It made me jealous.

I wanted to feel like that too, why was I different?

Why couldn't I feel that way?

The thought killed me.

The goal of being happy felt so far out of reach, and all I could do was break down in a corner and cry about it. I also had a handful of addictions to deal with; all of them were gory ways to cope. I was into smoking, drinking, and used to cut, but that didn't end well and I had gotten myself stuck in the hospital with a flurry of permanent scars lining my wrist and forearm. I didn't really care if I died, but for some reason after that I never picked up a blade again.

I guess it was the fact that with a single cut, my whole world was in my own hands, and that was terrifying.

I've been feeling like this for years, I had a feeling it had something to do with my abusive father that I still had to live with and my suicidal mother. I never fit in at school and I didn't have even one friend for support.

I was an outcast,

And I was only 17.

The whole world seemed like it was fighting against me, people avoided me like some disease, I couldn't stand looking in mirrors because I feared who was looking back at me and I was disgusted in all the damage I had caused myself, my parents hated me, my coworkers hated me... and I... hated me too.

What was my purpose? Why was I even here? Did I have a role to fulfill and was I meant to live?

Or was I a simple silhouette among the sunset of others lives, never to be revealed to the light and forever damned into the dark.

I don't mean to sound so fancy with words, but I'm trying to paint a picture, show to you what has lead me to stand upon this metal railing tonight.

I don't know what else to do, I've lost my mind thinking about what could have been and who I should have been.

If anyone reads this and if you ever cared, then thank you, but your efforts were futile.

Nothing will change after this, so please, discard this letter; I just needed someone to know what I was going through. But I promise, I am better now.

Fairest regards,

(Y/n)."

I placed the letter down on the railing and placed a rock on it so that it wouldn't blow away, I took a shaky breath and pulled myself up onto cold metal of the bridge, holding tightly onto one of the supportive beams.

This was it.

My life was over before it had begun.

As far as I knew, nobody was watching, the dirt back road was empty, there were no cars, and I had made sure I was far from the city; I didn't want anyone to stop me.