Jacksepticeye Oneshots

He Acknowledges Your Pain

ANGST

Whatever tether keeping you from the ledge had finally snapped.

You were alone in every sense of the word. You were in another country with no friends and no family, though that was what you wanted in the first place. The only reason you moved around so much was to experience new cultures and make memories, but no one had bothered contacting you after you contacted them. Those you grew up with hadn't cared enough to respond, and as much as you'd like to go home there was nothing there for you. There was no excitement and, although you hated to admit it, you were running from something. For years you had been running from something. Thoughts, memories, decisions, actions–everything.

Your demons caught up to you in Brighton.

On the ledge of your apartment building you stood contemplating whether or not you wanted to jump. If you didn't, you would welcome yet another panic attack and God knows how long of a depression after doing so well. If you did, the temporary pain would end and you would scar those who would stumble across your body the following morning. Not only them, but family and friends you were certain didn't care enough.

For ten minutes you stood on tense legs, wavering back and forth on hesitant feet as the wind gently pushed against your body. You couldn't smell the air because crying had stuffed your nose, but your arms were cold and it had rained an hour ago. You told yourself the minute you could smell the rain that it would be time to jump. There was a comfort in the sweet scent of rain, and you wanted to wait for that last anchor to be reeled in before ending everything altogether.

You were terrified. Although you were contemplating death for years, being so close to acceptance had your hands shaking and your stomach churning with nerves. If you could breathe through your nose you were sure to be panicking, but you could only suck in air through your mouth. The ache in your chest worsened as you peeked over the ledge, guessing how long of a drop it would be before you glanced back up at the buildings and the lights of Brighton. The wind sounded like rushing waves as it blew past your head, urging you further as your toes dug into the concrete ledge. Your steps were halted when the door to the rooftop creaked, alerting you to the presence of someone you didn't bother turning around to face.

"Wait," came a man's voice over the wind. Your heart raced not because it was a man who found you, but because you were so close to jumping. Leave it to a stranger to be the one thing keeping you grounded. The smell of rain was almost clear, but the sound of footsteps on the rocky terrain of the rooftop had you playing a game of eeny, meeny, miny, moe. As serious as the situation was, your brain was fighting itself and using humor as a coping mechanism. "Please," the man said, "just wait. My name is Sean. What's yours?" You laughed at his poor distraction. He was probably within arm's reach of you, but fear paralyzed you into looking across the city and not turning around.

"(Y/N)," you replied shakily. The cold had your fists clenching and unclenching, your body begging to be released from the stiffness of outside weather you denied it freedom from. You blinked tears from your eyes and did your best to focus on the droplets falling to the street below. Footsteps came nearer and, when you could practically feel the scuffing of Sean's shoes, they stopped.

"Well, (Y/N), I don't know why you've decided to stand there, but it isn't worth it. Whatever happened to you–whatever you feel–it doesn't have to own you. There's help just around the corner. There's help right here. Please just...turn around." Sean's voice was steady, but his words were calculated as if he was afraid to say the wrong thing. It was a nice gesture–this stranger wanting to help you.

You peeked over your shoulder and caught a glimpse of brown hair. The color of his eyes couldn't be seen in the dark, but he was tall and slowly pushing himself closer with an outstretched hand. He was a typical man with what appeared to be a heart of gold, but you were quick to give trust to someone you recently met.

"How'd you know I was here?" You wondered, voice small and layered with hours of sobbing. Your fingernails dug into the palms of your hands as the smell of rain was at its clearest. The last anchor was pulled in, but you remained at the bottom of the ocean and ready for someone to dive in and pull you out as well. It seemed the stranger was doing an okay job so far.

"I was walking home and looked up at the stars–saw you instead." He chuckled at the chances. "Please take my hand. I'll listen to you if you want to tell me what's wrong. I'll walk you to the hospital," Sean continued. His arm was all the way out then, fingertips buzzing to grasp onto yours and pull you from danger. You had turned completely around then, dancing on the edge of death with uncaring vulnerability. "What's wrong?" Sean inquired, though his question came out as a whisper. You could hear the frailty in his voice, like he knew what it was like to want the world to stop spinning and the stars to stop shining.

Tears fell again. This stranger, this unsuspecting man, was so interested in getting you into the safety of a hospital. He was willing to abandon his peaceful night if it meant there was a miniscule chance that what you wanted was anything but death. Sean thought that maybe you just wanted someone to acknowledge how much pain you were in.

He leaped forward and pulled you to his chest, catching you off guard as he tripped and fell back against the rooftop due to the spur of his movements. It was sudden, but you accepted that Sean had grasped onto you and struck through the decision you were struggling to make. He laid on his back as you cried into his chest. Sean breathed through his own tears and listened to you voice every single trouble that drew you to the ledge. He focused on the stars and held onto you tightly, ensuring you were, in fact, with him and alive and choosing to fight another day. He would get you to a hospital the moment you stopped crying, but he was just glad you let him hold you.

It was the first measure, after all: asking for help.

Thanks for readin <3

Just wanted to let y'all know that if anyone needs to talk I'm always down, but I'll also give links and numbers for professional help.

-Rache