Depression [Poly Hamilton]

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Requested by: xSUMMix

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Alexander sat in the bathroom, head hidden in his knees. In his hand, clutched loosely, was a pocket knife. He'd been sitting there for hours, tears slipping down his cheeks. He glanced at the pocket knife, then to his wrists.

His lovers should've known better then to leave him alone.

"Alex?"

Alexander froze when he heard John call his name. He looked to the door, relieved to see that he had blocked it.

"Alexander?"

John was closer now, sounding incredibly concerned. Alexander waited a moment and nearly jumped when there was a knock on the bathroom door.

"Alexander?" John said, sounding frightened.

Alexander squeezed his eyes shut, before raising the blade. His eyes widened and he gasped when the door shuddered and the drawer that was blocking it shifted. It happened again and it was then that Alexander realized that John was throwing himself at the door, desperate to get in.

His mind filled with thoughts of John getting a bloody, maybe even broken, shoulder. All because of him. He dropped the knife and rushed to the door, flinging it open. John ran right into him, knocking them both to the ground.

Alexander gasped in slight pain as John wrestled for his wrists, throwing them above his head and pinning him.

They stared at each other with wide eyes, before John looked at his wrist. When he saw that the skin was clear, no marks, he relaxed and unpinned Alexander.

Alexander sat up, head pounding a bit. He looked at John and swallowed when he saw that his boyfriend's eyes were fixed on the blade sitting on the floor.

He looked away, eyes filling with tears of shame and he clenched his fists.

"Alexander..." John whispered, before grabbing him and pulling him into a tight hug. Alexander broke and started to sob. Words spilled from his mouth, tears fell from his face and it was starting to get difficult to breathe. John held him the whole time, silent tears streaming down his own face.

"Alex," he whispered once they had both calmed down. "Why?"

Alexander's breath hitched and he buried his face in John's neck. John waited, still holding him tightly.

"It was my fault." He finally whispered.

John tensed slightly but said nothing.

Alexander took a shaky breath. "It was my fault Aaron-" His words were cut off by a sob. John still remained silent, offering his warmth as comfort.

Alexander spoke again. "He was- At the bridge-" The usually eloquent man stuttered, stumbling over words, trying to find the right ones. "He didn't want to die John." He finally whispered. "I caught him and he begged me not to let him go. He told me that, that he wanted to live." He sobbed. "That he wanted to keep on living because he loved us all so much and I-I couldn't hold onto him. I-I let him go, I killed him."

"Alexander," John said. "You didn't kill Aaron." He swallowed. "He," his voice cracked. "There was nothing that could've been done in that situation. If it's anyone's fault... it's mine." He buried his face into Alexander's hair. "We all knew how depressed he was, how sensitive he was to arguing, to loud noises. And how he harbored such intense self-hatred. And yet even knowing all that- I, I still yelled at him. I got angry at him, I made him feel like a burden to us Alex. I was the one who, who pushed him over the edge."

"John that's not true-"

"And god I hated myself for it." He whispered, interrupting Alexander. "I hated myself so much. The guilt crushed me and I was so desperate for-" His voice broke. "I was desperate to feel something other than the crushing guilt."

He shifted, before rolling up one of his sleeves. Alexander gasped when he saw the thin white lines that decorated his lover's skin.

"John..." He whispered. "When? I- how? Why?"

"I've been going to therapy for the last three weeks," John said softly. "Herc found me a month ago, nearly unconscious from blood loss... He begged me to go to therapy. I agreed on the condition that he didn't tell you or Laf what happened."

"John... I..." Alexander looked away, biting his lip.

"Alex," John said, "are you willing to go to therapy?"

Alexander's eyes widened and he flinched.

"Please Alex," John said softly. "I don't think... I don't think we could handle losing you as well as Aaron."

Alexander as silent. He looked at the knife laying on the ground, thought about the guilt and pain he was in. He clenched his fist. He didn't want his memories of Aaron to be just those of pain.

"Okay." He whispered. "I'll go."

John smiled, a few stray tears slipping down his cheeks.

"Can you come with me though...?"

"Yeah, yes of course," John said before kissing his forehead.

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