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Fount stared at the blade in his hands. He’d already used it to hurt himself before. Plenty of times. And now it would be the thing to finally take him out.
How fitting.
He’d already planned this all out. Even finally picked up his room for once so no one would have to deal with his mess. Left a note on his desk, trying to explain what he couldn’t truly explain.
So why was he still hesitating over this?
It’s not like he wanted, or even deserved, to be here. He just wanted to be gone so no one would have to deal with him being stubborn or moody or whiny or anything wrong with him ever again.
And it would be so easy to just stab himself now, to bleed out on the floor alone, to get it over with, wouldn’t it?
He just had to do it.
It’s not like anyone would care anyway. They wouldn’t even notice his absence. Even if they did, they wouldn’t care. That much was obvious.
He pulled the knife toward his chest—
And threw it away, the metal scraping against the tile as he shuffled away.
…
What just happened? Why did he do that?
He wanted this. He wanted to be gone. He wasn’t trying to avoid it anymore, so why…?
He laughed as tears filled his eyes.
Of course.
Of course he was too pathetic to live and too fucking scared to die.
Of course he couldn’t even deal with himself properly.
Of course he was selfish enough to even plan this kind of thing in the first place.
Of course he’d get this far only to freak out last minute.
He didn’t even want to try again, seeing as he’d probably just do the same thing.
He pulled the knife off the floor, taking it to his room and throwing it haphazardly into one of the drawers of his desk, throwing himself onto his bed, ignoring the fact he hit his head on the frame.
Why was he like this? Why couldn’t he just…act normal.
Healer wouldn’t want him to do this, right? Why didn’t he at least think of him? He— he’d already been concerned about this kind of thing before. It would break his heart if he found out. Or if…if it had worked.
Though, he was just being selfish. No one would do anything like this and not be, right? He was supposed to help cookiekind, and he was just running away, and it was for no reason at all. There was no reason he should feel like this.
He pressed his face into one of the pillows, trying to scream, though only a small whine slipped out.
Witches, he was so fucking pathetic.
He wanted to cry, to scream, and rip the entire Spire apart, just so someone would notice.
Instead he just stared at the mirror against his wall, the fractured image seeming to mock him.
He turned over, facing toward the blank wall, wrapping himself around another pillow, eventually drifting off to sleep to the sound of raindrops against the window.
•☆•————•☆•————•☆•————•☆•————•☆•————•☆•————•☆•————•☆•————•☆•————•☆•————•☆•————•☆•
“...Fount?”
Fount whipped his head around at the sound of his name— or rather, Healer’s voice.
“Hey Healer!” He chirped, sliding a book into the shelf he was reorganizing, “You need anything?”
“I…” Healer put a hand to his mouth, his other hand tightening around a small piece of paper.
…Shit.
What was he supposed to say? If he— just—
He tried to keep his breathing calm as Healer continued.
“I was looking for you and I found this on the floor and…”
Fount bit his tongue, trying not to interrupt him. Maybe he didn’t find out and it was just something else that Healer was clearly upset and concerned about…! Maybe he’d listen to Fount saying he was fine! Maybe, he could still fix this.
“I don’t— did you write this?” Healer passed the note to Fount, who knew exactly what it was at a glance.
Fount thought he was going to throw up right there.
Healer wasn’t supposed to know.
This was— no one was supposed to figure it out. Even if he wanted them to notice, things were just meant to go as they always had. He could handle that. Not someone finding out.
Especially not Healer. He’d promised him he’d try to get better.
He wasn’t supposed to do this to him, not like this, not…
Fount didn’t realize he’d started crying until Healer grabbed his face.
“I— Healer, you don’t—” Fount stammered. What was he supposed to say? He didn’t— he didn’t want to talk about this. Please. He couldn’t do this.
Healer sat down in front of Fount. He was clearly trying to be gentle. Too gentle. He shouldn’t be. He should be yelling. He should be mad at him. Not caring. That only made it worse.
No matter what Fount said it would hurt him. He cared. He cared about him, and…
Fount gripped onto the note, his voice only barely audible as he tried to keep his eyes off Healer’s face.
“I did, okay…?”
Please don’t hate me. Please.
Healer’s grip on Fount’s face tightened.
Nonononononononono.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry Healer please don’t—!”
Healer placed Fount’s face on his shoulder, running his hands through his hair like he always did.
Fount couldn’t even manage to hold back his sobs anymore. Ugly, pathetic, broken sobbing. He hated how fragile he felt. He wasn’t supposed to be like this. He was supposed to be better than crying like a kid. This wasn’t right. None of this was.
Healer didn’t seem to mind. He simply waited for Fount to calm down, which seemed more like him running out of energy to cry anymore, simply sniffling while Healer held him.
“You aren’t planning to kill yourself, right…?” Healer asked, his own voice shaking.
Fount nestled further into Healer’s shoulder, “I— was. That note was from… 4 days ago? But…not anymore.”
Healer seemed to loosen up at that.
“...Alright.”
They sat on the floor in silence for a few more moments before Healer grabbed Fount’s hand.
“I love you, Fount. Truly. I don’t know what I’d do without you,” then, quieter, “Please don’t leave me.”
Fount tried his best to smile, tears pricking at his eyes again, “I’ll try my best, okay? I…I love you too. I’ll try.”
“That’s all I want.”