I sat at the edge of my bed, the familiar shadows of my room creeping in as the evening sun dipped below the horizon.

From downstairs, I could hear my parents' voices, muffled and distant.

The weight of my decision settled comfortably on my shoulders, a strange sort of peace enveloping me.

This was it. The endgame.

There was no more fight left in me, and somehow, that realization brought a calmness I hadn't felt in years.

The darkness had finally become a part of me, a friend rather than an enemy.

I listened to my parents talking, their conversation drifting in and out. They were probably discussing dinner plans or something equally mundane.

I envied their normalcy, their ability to focus on the small details of life. They had no idea what was going on inside my head, and that was how I wanted it to stay.

I stood up and made my way downstairs, the stairs creaking under my weight. As I entered the kitchen, my mom looked up from the stove, a warm smile on her face.

"Hey, sweetie. How was your day?" she asked, her voice gentle and caring.

"It was fine, Mom," I replied, forcing a smile. "Just needed some fresh air."

My dad glanced up from his newspaper, giving me a nod. "You look a bit tired. Everything okay?"

"Yeah, Dad. Just didn't sleep well last night."

They seemed satisfied with my answers, turning back to their respective tasks. I leaned against the counter, watching them.

They were good people, kind and loving. But their love wasn't enough to pull me out of the abyss I was in.

My mom turned back to the stove, stirring a pot of something that smelled like chicken soup. "Are you hungry? I'm making your favorite."

"Thanks, Mom, but I'm not really hungry," I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

"You should eat something," my dad chimed in. "You need to keep your strength up."

"I'll grab something later," I promised, though we all knew it was a lie.

My mom turned to look at me, concern etched on her face. "Henry, you know you can talk to us, right? About anything."

I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. "I know, Mom. I just... I'm dealing with some stuff. But I'll be okay."

"Are you sure?" she pressed, her eyes searching mine for any sign of the truth.

"Yeah, I'm sure," I said, offering her another forced smile. "Just need some time to sort things out."

Her face softened, but the worry didn't leave her eyes. "I remember when you were little, you used to come home and tell us about your day with such excitement. Do you remember that time when you made that playhouse with that blonde girl? What was her name again?"

"Blair," I said gently, the memory of my old friend resurfacing for just a moment. I didn't know her, not anymore. But when I did, oh, she was like the sun. If I was dark blue then she was bright yellow.

"Yes," my mom nodded, "Blair, that sweet girl."

I nodded, the memory surfacing despite my best efforts to keep it buried. "Yeah, I remember. We were was so proud of that playhouse."

My dad chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "You were. And we were proud of you too. You've always been so creative and full of life."

"Thanks, Dad," I said, my voice sounded strong, but I wasn't. "I just need to find that part of me again, I guess."

They seemed to accept that, though I could see the worry still lingering in their eyes. I made some more small talk, asked about their day, listened to their stories.

It was a strange, almost out-of-body experience, knowing that this might be one of the last times I would do this. I wanted to soak it in, every mundane detail, every familiar sound and smell.

After dinner, I retreated back to my room, the darkness welcoming me like an old friend. I lay on my bed, staring at the ceiling, my mind drifting to Zane.

I needed to see him one last time, to make sure he would be okay without me. He was strong, he always had been, but I needed to say goodbye in my own way.

I grabbed my phone and sent him a text: "Hey, wanna meet up? Need to talk."

His reply was almost instant: "Sure, bro. Usual spot?"

"Yeah, see you in 20."

I pulled on a hoodie, the familiar weight of it comforting. I slipped out of the house, the cool night air hitting me as I stepped outside.

The walk to our spot was short, my mind wandering with every step. Memories of Zane and me growing up together, the countless adventures, the moments of laughter and the times he'd pulled me back from the brink. He'd always been my rock, my anchor.

The gazebo stood just off a side road, hidden among the trees. We had found it back in eighth grade, a small, broken structure that had been built and abandoned long ago. The paint was peeling, the wood creaking under our weight, but it had become our spot. A place where we could escape the world and just be ourselves.

When I arrived, Zane was already there, sitting on the hood of his car, his face lit by the glow of his phone. He looked up as I approached, a grin spreading across his face.

"Hey, man. What's up?" he said, hopping off the car.

I shrugged, trying to keep my voice steady. "Just needed to clear my head. Thought we could hang out."

"Yeah, sure," he said, patting the spot next to him. "You know I'm always here for you."

We sat in silence for a while, the city lights twinkling in the distance. I wanted to tell him everything, but I couldn't bring myself to do it.

Instead, against my own wishes, I started talking about Seren.

"I met someone," I said, my voice strangely clear.

Zane turned to look at me, his expression curious. "Oh yeah? Who's the lucky girl?"

"Just someone I ran into. We've talked a few times. She's... different."

"Different how?"

I paused, choosing my words carefully. I certainly couldn't say she was different because she's drunk at the cemetery every night and thinks about killing herself, too.

"She gets it," I said instead. "The darkness, the heaviness. It's like looking in a mirror."

Zane nodded, his gaze thoughtful. "That's good, man. It's good to have someone who understands. You should introduce us sometime."

"Maybe," I said, knowing it would never happen. "She's had a rough time. Lost someone important."

He sighed, his eyes reflective, though I knew he couldn't relate. "Yeah, that's tough. But having someone who gets it can make all the difference."

I could see the concern in his eyes, the way he leaned in, trying to bridge the gap he sensed but couldn't understand.

It was always like this with Zane. He was the strong one, the bright one. I was the shadow, always trailing behind.

"Tell me more about her," Zane urged, his voice softening. "What's she like?"

I took a deep breath, staring up at the stars. "She's... she's beautiful, but not in the way you'd think. It's like her beauty is a mask. Underneath, she's hurting. Like she's been carrying this weight for so long, and no one's really seen her. They just see what they want to see."

Zane nodded, his brow furrowed in thought. "Sounds like she's been through a lot."

"Yeah," I said, my voice cracking. "She lost her mom. She seems so alone, Zane. She doesn't have anyone who really understands her."

He reached out, placing a hand on my shoulder. "She's got you now, though. And that's something."

I looked at him, tears welling in my eyes. "But for how long? What if I can't be there for her?"

"Henry," Zane said firmly, his grip tightening on my shoulder. "You're stronger than you think. You've been through hell and back, and you're still here. You're still fighting. That means something. You can be there for her."

I shook my head, the tears spilling over. "But I'm so tired, Zane."

He pulled me into a hug, holding me tightly. "You don't have to do this alone, you know. I'm here. I've always been here. And I always will be."

I clung to him, the sobs wracking my body. It was a release, but also a goodbye. I knew he meant every word, but it wasn't enough to change what I had decided.

When I finally pulled away, I wiped my eyes, trying to compose myself. "Thanks, Zane. For everything."

"Don't thank me," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "Just promise me you'll keep trying. For me. For her. For yourself."

I nodded, though we both knew it was an empty promise. "I'll try."

We sat in silence again, the weight of our conversation hanging between us. I wished I could tell him everything, to explain the depth of my pain, but I couldn't. This was my burden to bear, and I had already made my choice.

Eventually, Zane glanced at his watch. "I should probably head home. Early start tomorrow. You'll be at school tomorrow, right?"

"Yeah," I lied. "Thanks for meeting up."

"Anytime, bro. You know that."

We stood there for a moment, the silence stretching between us. I wanted to hug him again, to tell him how much he meant to me, but I couldn't.

Instead, I just nodded and walked away, feeling his eyes on my back as I disappeared into the night.

The walk home was quiet, my thoughts a tangled mess.

Zane would be okay, I told myself. He was strong, he had a good life ahead of him.

And maybe one day, he would meet someone like Seren, someone who understood him the way I never could.

Back in my room, I sat on the edge of my bed, the weight of the night settling over me.

I had said my goodbyes, made my peace. The darkness was calling, and I was ready to answer.

I reached under my bed and pulled out the small box I had hidden there. Inside was everything I needed to make my exit. The note I had written and rewritten a hundred times, the key to my final escape. It was addressed to Zane.

I took a deep breath, my hands steady as I opened the box. The note was simple, just a few words to explain what I couldn't say out loud. I placed it on my pillow, the final act of a life that had been too heavy to bear.

I was too tired. My eyes began to blink as the crimson poured out my wrists.

It was not painful. Or, perhaps it was. But, compared to what my mind had been, it felt like relief.

My last thoughts were of Zane, of the times we had shared, and the hope that he would find his way without me.

And of Seren, who had seen me, really seen me, even if just for a moment.