Work Text:
Sorry in advance...
The soft mechanical ticking of the alarm clock made him anxious.
Mike, fully dressed under the covers, turned again in his bed, facing the wall.
It was past midnight and he still couldn’t shut his eyes. Dark thoughts churned in his mind, and he was still trying to fight them off.
Painful.
The empty wall seemed to mock him, and a sudden sob shook his body.
Frustrated, he squeezed his eyes shut, swallowing the pain before sitting up abruptly. He ran his hand through his hair again and again, trying to calm his ragged breathing.
A lost cause.
Breathe.
Breathe.
Breathe.
Breathe!
One… two… three…
A sob.
Then another.
And another still.
Too late…
Overwhelmed—by anxiety, by the feeling of slipping under—he broke down completely, biting his wrist until it bled, as if trying to regain control.
It didn’t work.
Tears streamed down his cheeks as a knot of despair, sharp and unbearable, tightened in his throat like a burning rope, choking off his breath.
He bit down hard on his lower lip, desperate to silence his sobs, and pressed both hands to his face.
It only made it worse.
The warmth of his palms made it feel like the pain was burning him—inside and out.
I can’t be falling apart like this over a boy… right?
He tried to rationalize, but his thoughts crashed into each other in a whirlwind of distress he couldn’t untangle.
The grip around his throat tightened dangerously, and he bent forward, as if to throw up the grief clawing at his insides—but nothing came out. Nothing could ease that gut-wrenching pain.
It wasn’t just about a boy. It was everything. He was tired. Of everything. Of his one-sided love for Micah, of his violent, homophobic father, of always pretending to be okay when all he wanted was to scream, to break down, to just stop . Of a life that kept going off course…
Shaking, feeling like the walls were closing in to steal what little air he had left, he climbed out of bed.
His feet touched the freezing floor. His body shivered, but he didn’t feel it.
His world had become chaos—raw pain and tangled thoughts merging into one incomprehensible blur.
Time was no longer linear. It existed only as seconds separating him from what he’d set his mind on finding.
He reached the wardrobe. Nothing else mattered except what he knew was hidden at the top.
His hand clenched the shelf so tightly it hurt as he stood on tiptoe, reaching blindly over the dusty surface for something specific. Something he knew too well—untouched by dust, unlike everything else around it.
Seconds passed. They felt like forever. But then, finally, he grasped it and stepped back.
There it was.
The rope in his hands felt impossibly heavy, as if it carried the full weight of his sorrow, of what he was about to do.
He trembled uncontrollably as a distorted smile spread across his lips.
It wasn’t a happy smile.
It wasn’t the kind of smile he’d forced on himself for years.
It was a broken smile.
Bitter.
Empty.
You can’t do this! Think of the others!
Maddison.
Your uncle.
Micah…
The voice deep inside his mind, so faint and distant, still struck him like lightning far too close.
He flinched, dropping the rope as if the material had burned him.
It slithered across the floor like a snake ready to strike—an illusion, a trap, trying to drag him back into darkness.
He stumbled backward, panic overtaking him, lost his balance, and fell onto the bed.
His heart pounded, on the verge of exploding, as he stared at that cursed object.
Its beats thundered in his ears, trying to drown out the fragile thread of reason he’d just retrieved.
With a final sob, he sniffled hard and wiped his face with his sleeve.
The bite mark on his wrist throbbed with a sharp, pulsing pain, but he didn’t really care.
It was just there , like a reminder that he had taken control again.
But for how long?
Swallowing hard, he crawled to the back of his bed, burying his head in his arms, trying to calm down.
He just needed to sleep.
Just sleep.
Tomorrow would be a better day.
Right?
No.
Just another day of pretending.
Just another day of pretending to love Destiny.
Why, anyway?
To please his father?
To convince himself he could be what his father wanted?
Out of fear of what his father might do?
Did it even matter?
Just another day of watching.
Another day watching Micah and Zeyn.
Pretending he didn’t love Micah.
Pretending he didn’t want to take Zeyn’s place.
But again…
Did it even matter?
He opened his eyes again, disturbed by images he didn’t want to see— not now.
Why couldn’t he just shut his mind off and fall asleep?
Just for a while.
He was tired.
So tired.
Tired of everything.
Tired all the time.
His nose started to sting again, and he blinked fast to keep the tears back—but it was no use.
His vision blurred, and within a few heartbeats, his face was soaked.
Drained to the core, he let himself sink and drown in a grief far too big for him to bear.
How had he even managed to live like this, carrying a pain like that buried inside?
Eventually, the chains he had wrapped around it had to break…
No.
Tomorrow wouldn’t be a better day.
Tomorrow would be worse.
He had to end it, once and for all.
…
…
…
Mike didn’t move from his spot for a long time.
Maybe even for hours.
His tears had dried, and the pain that had torn through him earlier was gone.
Leaving only a massive void behind.
But that didn’t mean things were better.
Far from it. The infinite emptiness, the exhaustion… it made him want to take just one more step—
And fall.
As he got up from the bed and moved toward the rope, the sound of his alarm clock caught his attention.
4 a.m.
He sighed, about to turn away, but then his gaze landed on his phone.
Ask for help!
He listened to the voice in his head and grabbed the device.
Automatically, he unlocked it and scrolled through his contacts, looking for one person in particular.
Destiny.
No, not her.
Micah...
No… not him.
Uncle Ethan.
Still no.
Dad.
Absolutely not.
…
Zeyn.
If there was anyone on this entire earth who could save him right now—it was her.
But what if she was sleeping?
What if she didn’t pick up…?
NO.
Before he could think too much, he hit the call button and waited.
One ring.
Two.
The sound echoed in his ears like the ticking of a clock counting down to the end.
If she didn’t pick up, he…
Click.
His heart stopped for a split second, then restarted with a violent thud.
“Mike?”
He took a deep breath at the sound of her voice—so soft, so cheerful, so far from what he felt—and almost whispered:
“Zey Zey… can we meet at the park? I… I don’t feel so good.”
A pause.
Just a beat.
“I’m a little busy right now, how about tomorrow?” she replied, sounding apologetic. Mike felt something shatter.
A new wave of sobs shook his chest.
He was freezing down to the bone.
He didn’t feel okay.
It was like life was slowly draining from him.
The ground under his feet felt like it was collapsing, and he was falling into a bottomless pit.
“Mike?”
Zeyn’s voice again, now tinged with worry, pulled him back into his room.
“Alright. Tomorrow then,” he breathed.
And he hung up.
The phone slipped from his fingers, crashing to the floor, the screen cracking.
He didn’t care.
Unsteady, he moved toward his desk, rummaging through the drawers.
He grabbed a piece of paper and a pen, sat down, and began to write.
At first, his words were numb, distant from him.
Then, tears fell onto the paper, blurring letters, blurring his vision.
He sniffled, trembled, clenched the pen in his fingers again and again…
And finally, he placed the last period.
Read over the letter.
I’m sorry. So sorry. I don’t think I can find the words to explain what I’m feeling, the pain, how much I can’t take it anymore, how sorry I am.
None of this is your fault. It’s all mine.
I’m sorry I wasn’t the person you would’ve wanted me to be. I’m sorry for being the way I am, for not being able to handle all of this.
I’m sorry it’s come to this.
I tried. Really. Probably not the right way, but I tried.
I can’t see another way out. Maybe I’m just being dramatic, maybe I complain too much. Maybe I could make it, like others do... But I’m tired. Tired of everything. Tired of pretending, tired of the pain that never goes away. Of those moments when everything’s falling apart but I force myself to smile, like it’s nothing. Like everything will be fine.
But I understand now. It won’t get better. I was wrong to believe it would.
Destiny, I’m sorry. Sorry I used you to hide my love for boys from my father. Sorry I kept you so far from Christian for so many years. Sorry I lied to you.
Micah... Forgive me. I loved you, I still love you, but you never loved me like I loved you, and you never will. You chose Zeyn, and I get it—she’s amazing. I wish you both all the happiness in the world. But I can’t stay here anymore, watching my heart break a little more each day. I thought the feeling would go away...
To my uncle, to Maddison... I love you. With all my heart, you were always there for me, and I’m so thankful for that. You can’t know how much I love you. I’ve let you down, and I never meant to. You deserve better than a nephew, a brother like me. Please don’t be sad for me, I beg you. Just hold on to the love I had for you.
To Dad. I don’t even know how to write what I feel. I saw you hurt my uncle because he didn’t share your worldview, you were violent with us, with me, with Maddison, but still, I think... I still love you a little. I don’t know. Maybe because even with the insults and the blows, you’re still my father. Maybe I just wanted you to be proud of me, even just once. But now, I’m exhausted. Exhausted from loving you, from hiding that I’m like Uncle Ethan too, that I love boys, that I lied to you.
I’m still going to ask you one last favor. Please take care of Maddison, even if you don’t care. She doesn’t deserve to suffer like I did, because of you. Even if it’s ironic, coming from someone about to kill himself. I’m writing this to cut the link for good, to leave without having to look at you.
To you, Chris. Even if we hate each other. I’m sorry I stayed with Destiny when I didn’t love her. When I knew you loved her. It really wasn’t out of malice, or hate. I don’t even know why I did it.
Make the most of all the time you’ll have once I’m gone.
To everyone I love. I’m sorry. I didn’t want to hurt you, or anyone else. So, again, I’m sorry. Truly.
I hope you’ll forgive me someday. Please don’t be sad for me.
Deep down, I think it would’ve ended this way anyway.
I’m just too tired to go on.
I love you.
Michael
He folded the letter. He placed it on the desk, then set the pen on top of it.
He allowed himself one last moment to cry, then sniffed, wiped his face, and left his chair.
Mechanically, as if his body already knew what to do, he picked up the rope, his mind drifting into emptiness.
What followed was drowned in the fog of his thoughts. He no longer thought.
Because if he thought, he would stop. He wouldn’t have the courage to end his suffering…
Christian ran. He ran like he had never run before.
He couldn’t be late.
Anything but this.
As soon as Zeyn had hung up and shared her concerns, he had felt something was wrong. That something very serious was about to happen.
But Mike wouldn’t really do that, would he?
The house was in sight now.
Just a few more meters. Only a few meters...
He slammed the door handle so hard he almost broke it.
It was locked.
With a frustrated sigh, he kicked down the door and rushed down the hallway.
Driven by a sudden intuition, he flung open the door at the end of the hall.
And came face to face with Mike.
Standing, hands on the rope that hung from the ceiling, wrapping around his neck.
They stared at each other for a few seconds, out of breath.
Chris took a steady breath and slowly stepped forward, hands raised in a sign of peace. To prevent Mike from making any fatal move.
“Come on!” he whispered, his voice trying to be reassuring.
Mike gave him a faint smile, filled with an unfathomable sadness, eyes filled with tears.
“I’m tired…”
He tilted his head to the side, his gaze lost in a place where no one could look for him.
“I wish Micah was in her place…”
Then he raised his head, tears silently sliding down his chin, and in one last smile, he apologized.
“...And Christian, I’m sorry…”
Chris looked at him, not understanding, but the last sentence made him lose control.
“I took away your right to be with her for years.”
.
.
.
Mike felt Chris's fingers on the rope.
Then...
Nothing.
Not even the time to understand.
A sharp thud.
A sudden, violent pressure.
The tension increased, brutal.
Unexpected.
The rope pulled, tightening brutally around his neck. His head snapped back, his eyes widened. His breath choked in his throat with a silent gasp. His whole body tensed, violently yanked off the ground. His fingers scratched at the air, searching for breath in a spasm of uncontrollable panic. His legs flailed in the void, a silent cry splitting his chest.
His vision darkened immediately, everything spinning. His heart beat horribly loud in his ears. Everything blurred, everything faded.
His thoughts crumbled, cracked. Memories jostled. Maddison. Her smile. The warmth of his uncle’s arms. Micah, who never looked at him the way he looked at him.
Incomplete images, growing more and more blurred.
His lips twisted into a final painful smile.
But suddenly, the pressure stopped.
The rope slid.
Chris had let go.
Mike fell to the ground like a puppet whose strings had been cut. His head slammed against the floor, his breath returned, ragged, torn.
He heard Chris whisper his name.
He couldn’t see anymore, but he felt arms surround him, pulling him close to a body.
“Michael, no… please… I’m sorry…”
…Chris…?
His pupils dilated.
A final spasm.
“God, what have I done…?”
Then…
…nothing.