Let Me Go

I should've known. It was always there, I just hadn't seen it until now. And that was so fucking stupid of me. When it would happen, I would brush it off, I didn't want to think about it like that. I wanted to think about it as being a slip up or something. I was fucking stupid.

"Hey Luke?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure."

"Have you ever felt like there's no way out?"

"What do you mean?"

"Like... You know what, never mind. Forget I ever said anything."

I wish I hadn't let him go. I wish I had stopped him. I wish I had pushed it- but I didn't. I let him walk away, like the dumbass I am.

••••••••

He lied to me- at the time I knew it was a lie, deep down I knew it wasn't true. But me being me, I just wanted everything to be okay, so I chose to believe him.

"Ashton, what is this?"

"What?"

"I just found this in your dresser... Ashton, is this a suicide note?"

"W-what? I-I wrote that y-years ago- you know I had a h-hard time as a t-teenager."

I could've called him out, told him I knew he was lying. I didn't, just because I didn't want to believe it.

•••••••••••

All of us knew something was up at this point. He didn't leave his room often, and if he wasn't there, he was either avoiding eating or going to the bathroom.

"Ashton, you gotta come out."

"Leave me alone."

"Ashton, come on, you've been in there for the last week. When was the last time you took a shower? Or ate anything?"

"Go away Luke."

"Ashton-"

"Fuck off."

We couldn't leave him there, we couldn't let him be like this all of the time. So Michael intervened, going into Ashton's room with his arms crossed and a determind expression covering his face.

"Ashton, I made an appointment with a therapist."

"Good for you."

"I made it for you."

"What? No, cancel it. I don't need a therapist. I'm fine."

"Says the boy who barely leaves his room."

"I'm not going, Michael."

"It's in thirty minutes. Either you get ready now, or I will drag your ass there in your pajamas."

In the end we wound up carrying a kicking and screaming Ashton to the car and carrying him into the office.

••••••••••••

After a while, Ashton would go to his therapy sessions without a struggle. They put him on antidepressants and had him come in twice a week. He seemed okay. It all seemed okay again. I should've seen it, but I didn't. Because I wanted didn't want it to be bad again.

"Hey Ash."

"Hi."

"How're you feeling?"

"Fine."

"Are your, uh, are your... Pills working for you?"

"Yeah."

I didn't know he was lying to me until I went into his room looking for a shirt he stole from me.