Sander Sides One Shots (requests closed/on hiatus)

Sleep

Okay so, I do have a request that I'm working on (sorry that it's taking a while), but I need to write this for catharsis so yeah...here we go

AU/Prompt: human au

Ship(s): sleepxiety (take it as either romantic or platonic)

Requested by:

Warnings: anorexia, self harm, depression, suicide, death

(also yes, that is my handwriting in the photo above. No, it's not my note, this is solely for the chapter)

My hands shake as I grip the pen, trying to force words onto the page. It's not working. How do you expect me to work through all of my shitty feelings in five minutes when I haven't been able to do it in five years? And then try to put them into words? I should just write, 'peace, i'm out. see you in whatever afterlife there is'

Thar's not bad actually. I scribble it down on a crumpled piece of paper and leave it on my bed, next to my sunglasses and leather jacket. I'm going to miss them. I should clarify that I'm talking about my jacket and sunglasses, not the people in my life. I look around my room for, if all goes to plan, the last time. Well, that's what I said last time but I don't need to worry about remembering to lock the door this time.

My white walls have peeled patches and holes from where I moved posters and photo frames around over the years. My string of photo fairy lights is turned off for probably the first time since I got them. I stare at the photos of me and my friends from when we were younger and happy and all still alive. The one that catches my eye is the one of me and Virgil on one of our coffee 'dates'. He looks so beautiful with his large eyes made bigger by the dark eyeliner. His dark curly hair that swoops perfectly in front of his face and his smile that he tried to hide behind his hand.

That's how I remember him. Shy, adorable, smiley or I guess smirky. Not the sunken eyes and thinning hair as he turned into a skeleton before my eyes. I remember Virgil as the boy who would steal my food and not care what anyone thought of him. Not the boy who would politely refuse more and more food until he could barely stand. Not the boy who was so worried about what everyone thought that he wore baggier clothing and weighed himself every day. Not the boy I tried so desperately to help but failed and lost him.

I tear my eyes away from the photo and back to my bed that is fully made with all my blankets and pillows. I gently place a hand on the edge of it,

"Thanks for being the best therapist I ever had. You were there through all my breakdowns and soaked up my tears. I'll miss ya"

It's stupid that I'm thanking my bed, but I'm about to kill myself, I can do whatever I want. I do one final sweep of my room but see nothing worth prolonging the inevitable so I leave. I walk out of the house, ignoring as Patton asks where I'm going, and towards the woods. In the woods next to our house is a small but powerful waterfall and that's where I'm headed. Slitting my wrists is too much blood that I don't want them to have to clean it up. I already tried pills and it didn't work because they found me in time, and hanging is too much work. So. I'm going to jump. It's not high enough to kill me instantly but the force of the falling water and the rapids and rocks that wait below will be more than enough.

After a rocky ten minute hike, I reach the top of the waterfall. It's not that pretty actually. That's what you were expecting right? For me to say how beautiful it is here with the sound of the water and the trees and flowers. Maybe there would be a setting sun that casts the sky into all these amazing colours and I realise how much I want to stay alive to see this more. But that's not real life.

Real-life isn't a fairytale, and it sure as hell isn't pretty. Real-life takes everything hopeful and beautiful and worth living for and destroys it. It can make the prettiest people hate themselves and the happiest people stop smiling.