Hermitcraft Oneshots (OLD AND DISCONTINUED)

Oneshot: Falling [Angst]

Warnings: Past self-harm (cutting), suicidal thoughts, overdose (intentional, fatal), drug use (prescription), suicide, character death (So... may be very triggering to some!)

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It hadn't come on suddenly.

It had really just built up over time. It started with small things; Xisuma being too preoccupied with his other friends, Iskall's jokes going too far, and occasionally Grian's pranks weren't even funny, rather annoying and time-consuming to clean up.

The hurtful part was that nobody really noticed. Nobody had a second thought when he stopped showing up to Architech meetings, or when he stopped asking to hang out (they always declined anyways).

The last straw had been when the Xisuma threw a Christmas party and forgot to invite him. Everyone else was invited. He found out around a week later, and didn't even get an apology.

It wasn't the first time his depression began crashing down on him. When he was a Sophomore in High School, his father went to jail for murdering his mother, then his brother committed suicide. That was when he started wearing the suit. The long sleeves were never questioned. It was his thing, his brand. But it was really just to hide the scars.

Now he sat alone, on the cold tile floor of his bedroom. It was 9:32 PM, not too late, but he knew nobody would visit him. He knew where the box cutter was. He knew where the antidepressants were. He knew where the phone was, too. He should call the Suicide Hotline. He should talk to someone. He should get back up, smile, and pretend everything is fine. He should.

But it was pointless, anyways. No one would care if he bled out, or overdosed. They never cared. He didn't understand where he had gone wrong. Had he stopped being interesting? Maybe he could change, change himself so they would like him. It was his fault, probably.

When did the orange bottle get in his palm? He wasn't sure. He counted the pills, there were 25. He hadn't touched them since his Senior year of High School.

It would be so easy. To just swallow them, no second thought. But maybe he didn't deserve to go easy. Couldn't he just take the blade, make the pain go away with more of it? He didn't think he could get up to get it though. He had already swallowed 5 pills subconsciously, and was feeling drowsy. Unfortunately not enough to overdose. Only a few more, and it would all go away.

Just 1 more.

2?

4...

12..?

20. He was out, wasn't he? No more anything. No more crying alone until 3 AM. No more... no more... just numb. It would all be over soon.

He thought back to when he was happy. To when they liked him. Why wasn't he good enough anymore? What if he was never good enough? What if they were just pretending before? Wh- wha- t- if- f-

He blacked out.

He didn't wake up again.

~

Word Count: ~493