Work Text:
How long?
How long?
How long (do I have left with my dog 'til I start forgetting shit?)
How long ('til we're rich, and then we're not, and then we're rich?)
How much longer 'til I'm taller?
How much longer 'til it's midnight?
How much longer 'til the mornin'?
Are my legs gonna last?
—
There’s never a convenient time to kill yourself.
Something is always there to stop you - you’re brother’s birthday; nephew’s baptism; credit card bill is due. What’s the point if he still leaves a balance behind?
Balance in more than one way. Money is inconsequential when you’re constantly cleaning up the leftover mess of your emotional turmoil. Does karma matter when you’re eternally damned to hell anyway?
He would miss things, if he could miss anything after, anyway. Beth’s laugh, Joseph’s smile, warm cinnamon rolls on a Sunday morning after he pretends his skin doesn’t burn from just sitting in the church with Tommy and his family.
It’s not that he’s not happy. He is. He’s just - empty.
Has been for a long time.
Not here. A facsimile of himself.
He does a good job of pretending. He’s a puppet on strings, but his master is talented. They put on a good show. Maybe it’ll make him do a dance as his last performance.
But - he’s not sure he has the time for one.
Black water stares back at him, hands resting on the cold metal of the bridge while he stares down. He’s scared but he’s not.
Tommy’s graduation is next week, and - he shouldn’t. But when. When can he? When is a good time?
Price’s retirement party is next month and he said he might be able to make it.
It’s his turn to pick Joseph up from school tomorrow. Kid will probably want to get ice cream.
Would.
Would - if he were there to take him home.
But.
He won’t be.
The deep inhale he takes stings his throat and he realizes he hadn’t been breathing before. Doesn’t really matter.
The issue is, he feels stupid . Why is he doing this? He could just keep pretending. He could keep being Simon. A brother, uncle, friend-
A shit one.
That had been made clear on more than one occasion.
He tried. He put Tommy in rehab, took care of Joseph and Beth, lived with their mother even when she-
He gripped the bridge tighter. His hands were cramping from the cold metal under his fingers but he barely felt it. Almost enjoyed the barely there pain.
She’d said it best. Useless.
Especially now - mind broken so badly that he wasn’t even wanted as a rabid dog the military could release to rip enemy throats out.
Body -
Bodies didn’t matter at the bottom of a river.
He assumed it would be quiet. Maybe not the impact - might take a minute to actually die. Maybe he should angle himself so that he went headfirst.
—-
He blinked and he wasn’t holding the bar anymore. He felt the cold of metal underneath him from where his thighs rested, legs swinging in front of him and over the river. The current wasn’t very fast but it was quick enough he thought maybe it would push him far enough downstream he’d wash up after Tommy’s birthday.
There were no cars around. He’d chosen the spot for that reason - less chance of a do-gooder coming across him and thinking they could change his mind. He didn’t need someone permanently scarred from seeing him splat on the water below.
He was still wearing his mask, but there is no anonymity in death.
—-
He’s been sitting here for too long.
He should do it. Quick breath, drop. Not much different than out of a chopper, just no ‘chute.
It’s definitely too cold to be sitting on a large piece of metal and not moving. Did he remember to turn over his laundry? Beth’ll be mad it smells like mildew. Tommy will laugh at him and call him a mushroom head.
Hah. Says the fucking drug addict.
His eyes have blurred out and when they focus back in he notices that the sky is becoming purple, dawn tumbling in.
How long has he been sitting here?
Come on, Simon. One, two, three and then you’re done.
Fucking do it.
—--
Orange is a nice color. Warm. Warmer than his ass right now, at least.
He wishes he could jump into the sky instead of the frigid water. Could go right to heaven instead of down to hell. Maybe purgatory is a real thing and he can atone in some way - work to be let in.
No one can say he isn’t a hard worker.
If he’s going to do it, he has to soon. While the area isn’t high traffic, the threat of cars going by on their early commute to work is imminent. Not that they’ll stop him, but. Maybe they would. Maybe they’d care.
You’d be better off dead.
He shakes his head.
His hands are long numb and he’s sure that his lips are blue. Maybe he has frostbite.
Is the river frozen at all? He might get caught under ice - preserved for a while. Give them ‘til the spring to find him. Yeah, then Tommy’s birthday will have passed and Price will be retired on a remote island and-
He’s got to do it now. Has to.
The sky has red fanning across it, the outline of earth’s star a silhouette on the horizon of the river.
His arms are shaking and his eyes start to fog.
But he- he can’t lose his resolve. It’s better. He decided already.
But - it’s Tommy’s birthday next week.
And Joseph wants to get ice cream.
And Price is retiring.
And Beth will tease him about his laundry.
He doesn’t-
He jerks one hand away from the railing, fisting his hair and yanking hard. The sharp pain pulls him back into the moment but it makes his body jerk forward and-
His numb legs don’t react quick enough to turn his body backwards and half of him slips off the railing. His underarm clangs angrily against the metal and as his feet hit the slim ridge of concrete below the railing they scrabble without his permission, trying to climb back.
He-
He doesn’t want-
His hand catches one of the slim metal railings instinctively, shoulder wrenching painfully as it takes the full weight of his body.
The rushing in his ears sounds like a shout.
A strangled noise breaks from his throat and it’s not a sob, he doesn’t cry he doesn’t feel he just-
He wants this.
But his hand won’t let go and his shoulder is screaming in pain, but it sounds like a man. It sounds like a man but he can’t pay attention because when his other arm swings up to grab on his fingers are slipping. They’re slipping and he doesn’t want to let go he doesn’t want to fall-
He wants to be at Tommy’s birthday.
He wants to get ice cream with Joseph while the kid talks nonsense at him.
He wants to call Price an old man even though he’s retiring young.
He wants to be made fun and laughed at because it means they see him and maybe he’s not so empty that he’s invisible and they see something inside of him and-
He-
There are blue eyes above him, wide and startled and words screaming at him in a mangled accent but his hand is slipping and the one that reaches for him isn’t close enough and -
He doesn’t want to die.
He falls.