Jadam Oneshots

Without You

Warning: death

James' POV

I didn't expect it to happen. But you don't really expect these kinds of things.

Adam was full of surprises.

He surprised me on our first date by bringing  flowers and chocolates.

He surprised me when he kissed me for the first time on the Ferris Wheel.

He surprised me on the day he asked me to marry him.

But I never expected this kind of surprise.

It was true that Adam had started to seem less and less like himself.

He was more reckless, and less aware of his actions.

He stopped eating food for days on end, only eating small amounts when I begged him to.

But he got help. I found him a therapist, and he agreed to meet with them.

I thought he was doing better.

He started eating again, and started coming home with a smile on his face.

His genuine laugh started coming back, and I was so happy to see him on his feet once again.

I thought he was happy.

I shouldn't blame myself. I know that. He wouldn't want me to be unhappy.

But it's just so hard knowing that I could have helped him.

I should have been there for him more.

I should have seen the signs. I should have seen that he had started cutting again.

I could have stopped it. I know I could have.

I should have made more time for him.

The hardest thing about all of this is that he's not here anymore.

I've worn his sweatshirt to bed every night since the funeral. It doesn't smell like him anymore, but I don't mind.

It's the closest I can come to being wrapped in his arms again.

I should get rid of the rest of his clothes. They just take up space, and leave the closet cluttered.

I can't bring myself to donate or even throw away any of his belongings.

I know he would want me to move on, to find happiness in life, but that's the thing.

He was my happiness.

And now he's gone.

I don't know what to do anymore.

All I can see when I close my eyes is the pill bottle on the ground, pills scattered all over the floor, and a lifeless figure on the bed.

I remember hearing screams, and a siren wailing outside our front door.

I suppose both of those were from me.

I don't remember calling an ambulance, but I do remember the arms pulling me away from my happiness.

Away from Adam.

Next thing I knew, I was sitting in the waiting room, my leg bouncing anxiously.

All of my hope ran out when the doctor sadly shook her head at me.

I remember crying, wanting it to be a lie, wanting so desperately for everything to be ok.

The next two weeks were a blur.

We had his funeral at a church near our house.

Our friends were there, all teary eyed and crying.

I got lots of hugs that day. They didn't really help.

It's been a month now.

I heard somewhere that mourning periods can last between days and years, and sometimes for the rest of someone's life.

I think I fit into the last category.

I don't know what's keeping me going.

I have no reason to keep pressing on anymore.

It would be so easy to just end it all. To just take the pills from the cabinet and finally be reunited with the man I love.

But I don't.

Not yet, at least.

I go to a therapist now. She's helped a little.

She told me that I should go out into the world, find new people to meet and new places to see.

She said that I should find an outlet for my grief, like drawing or running.

I choose drawing.

I draw my life with Adam. I draw my hopes and dreams. I draw the future I thought I was going to have.

That's what's helped more than anything. The drawing.

For now, I'll keep going.

For Adam.

I'm just gonna go sob in a corner now.

Suicide Hotline: 1-800-273-8255