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Vincent wishes he could say he felt something was off when he got home, but that wasn't true. He wanted to say that he could tell there was something wrong, but the fact of the matter was... He didn't feel that. Nothing seemed off. Maybe he just didn't have that extra sense, or maybe people didn't really work like that. Either way, when he stepped through the door and struggled to shut it wth a foot since his hands were full of plastic grocery bags, he hadn't been expecting to find anything... Amiss.
"I'm home!" He called through the dark house. He didn't get a response, which was a little odd, but he still didn't think anything of it. He went to the kitchen, put away groceries, and then made his way to the room he shared with his husband.
The bed was empty. The bathroom light was on though, so everything seemed fine. Vincent sat on the bed and pulled off his socks and shoes, then switched from his scrubs to something more... Comfortable and plopped down on the bed with a content sigh.
"You won't believe what happened today, oh wow do I have a story to tell you!" He called out. No response came from the bathroom. Again, a little odd, but there was numerous reasons why Andrew wouldn't be responding so again, he didn't think too hard about it. He just laid in bed, wrapped up in a blanket, and waited for his husband to come join him.
And then it had been 10 minutes.
Then twenty.
"Hey..." Vincent finally got up from the bed and gave a few gentle knocks on the bathroom door. "Are you okay in there?"
No response.
Okay. Now he was worried.
"Andrew. Seriously, babe, are you okay?" A pause.
Silence.
"Okay. Count of three and I'm coming in. One... Two... Three." He tried to turn the knob.
What the fuck?
"Uh... The door... You locked the door?" Vincent cursed under his breath. He was doing his best not to panic, but shit, he had been in there for god knows how long, not responding, and the door was locked. He couldn't really think of many things that weren't panic worthy from that scenario. "Andrew, please if you're okay open the door. I don't wanna open it by force if I don't have to. Or like. Can you say something? Should I call 911? Are you okay? Please, tell me you're okay." Vincent took a step back from the door. He paced a small circle, hand gripping his hair and tugging lightly in stress. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He was trying not to panic, he really was, but shit, he was panicking.
"Okay." He shook his hands. "Okay." He looked to the door, face set into a determined expression. "Andrew, I'm coming in! Stand back, okay?" He called, and then rammed his entire body as hard as he could into the wooden surface. It made a loud bang, and although his shoulder ached and it felt like he had gotten through, nothing had budged. Shit. Okay, this was gonna be harder than the movies made it look. But he was practically in hysterics by this point, so what other choice did he have but to do it again? He staggered a few steps backwards, and then rammed again. Okay. Wow. His shoulder REALLY hurt now. Another one of those and he was sure to dislocate it, and that wasn't going to help anyone.
"Fuck." Vincent hissed as he stepped back. Okay. He needed a new plan, and fast. The fact that he had made THAT much noise and didn't get a response only made his fear worsen. The possibility that Andrew had just fallen asleep... Somehow... Was pretty much out the window now. He knew that man, and he would NEVER be able to sleep through that much commotion under normal circumstances. Something was wrong. Really, really wrong. His eyes flickered to the hinges for a moment. He had no idea how that would work, and he feared it would take too long.
Vincent took a deep breath. Think, think, think. He'd seen shows where people kicked down doors. He wasn't confident in his kicking skills, but it wasn't like he had a plethora of options floating around his head at the moment.
"I'm trying again! Stay away from the door!" Vincent shouted, although he knew better than to expect a response. He braced himself, and then...
The door collapsed under the pressure from his kick, something that surprised Vincent a lot. If circumstances were different he'd take a moment to celebrate, but...
"Andrew!" He shouts, mortified at the sight of seeing his husband on the floor, eyes shut, and bleeding. It didn't take long for him to realize the puddles had been started from his wrists, and with a knife nearby he didn't need to question how it happened.
"Baby, oh god." Vincent wails as he rushes to Andrew's side. He's warm, and breathing, but his wrists were still bleeding. The empty bottle nearby old Vincent he had taken something, probably a lot of something.
"Why?" Vincent whispers as he begins to cry. He needs to act fast, call an ambulance, do anything to save Andrew's still fleeting life. But... He found himself paralyzed. This wasn't the first time Andrew had tried to end his life, he knew that, but he wasn't THERE the first time. They weren't talking, and he didn't find him, so it was... Different, so, so much different. Knowing he struggled with depression in the past didn't prepare him for this. Fuck, nothing could prepare someone for this.
"I'm... I'm calling the hospital, okay?" Vincent said, voice wavering as he pulled out his cell phone. Andrew, of course, didn't respond in any way. Vincent pulls away, goes to stand, and then nearly screams when he looks down and sees Andrew's eyes are open. "Andrew!" He squeaks, immediately curling around the other man again. "Oh god, you're alive, I'm about to call an ambulance, okay?"
"Don't." Vincent barely hears the quiet croak that escapes his husband.
"W...What?"
Andrew stares at him silently, knowing that the other man's confusion hadn't come from him not understanding what he said but rather BECAUSE he had heard it properly.
"You're kidding right? I'm not just... I can't let you die!" Vincent wails, his heart feels like it's breaking and he doesn't know what to do to soothe it. "Jesus Christ, Andrew, you aren't going to live if I don't get you medical attention and I-" Vincent's head drops. He tries not to cry, he's panicking and he's scared and crying isn't going to help anything, so he refuses to do it. "I don't want you to die, please, God, don't leave me here alone. I NEED you!"
"I can't... Do this." Andrew says after a long pause.
"What's this? Whatever this is we can work through it, okay? This isn't... This isn't right."
"I can't keep living, oh God Vincent I can't." Andrew is crying now, tears falling silently from his eyes as he stares up at his husband. "Please don't ask me to do this."
"Don't ask me to do THIS." Vincent nearly shouts back.
Andrew goes silent, tears still flowing down his face before he nods. "You're right."
Vincent is flooded with relief at that sentence. It's only two words but it's the best thing he's heard all day. "Thank you." He sobs out. "I'm gonna go grab my phone and call an ambulance, okay? Just... Wait here."
Andrew gives him a weak smile and Vincent leaves the room, and once again he wishes he had felt something was wrong because by the time he returned Andrew was dead. Slit his throat probably as soon as he realized Vincent was truly going to save him.