10:59pm

Trigger warning: indication of suicide

Au
—

"Do you ever think someone can be in a position where death would be considered a mercy?"

Roman held the shaking, crying boy to his chest tight, so tight in fear he might break into a million pieces if he didn't. He clenched his eyes shut and let him cry, cry it all out without being able to stop. In the end he passed out, exhausted from his episode, but this has happened before, countless times, Roman lost track. He scooped up the scrawny boy, laid him down in bed, sat at his desk and stared out the window, content with the soft snoring coming from across the room.

"Depends on the situation"

Roman watched from afar, sitting on the couch, gazing at the boy who stood in the kitchen before the counter, hands shaking, they never stop, so many medicines and techniques - he's given up. He picked up his mug of juice, half full, anything more and it would tip out. He grabbed his metal straw and drank, but it didn't taste like anything, he hasn't been able to taste anything for years. Roman watched on silently, not daring to say a word, but he knew the boy knew he was watching.

"Would you ever kill in the name of mercy?"

Roman tensed when he heard a gasp coming from across the room, he grabbed for the remote and turned the television off instantly. He is usually careful - maybe today he was slacking. A character on a show yelled - the boy couldn't stand yelling. Across the room, he sent an apologetic smile to him, he shook his head and waved it off, gulping down his usual rounds of medication to help dull his pain, lessen his anxiety, and hopefully make him somewhat happy.

"...I couldn't bring myself to murder someone"

He was crying again. Roman could hear it through the walls. He sat up in bed, bleary gazing around the darkness as he stumbled up and out his room, down the hallway and into is. He laid down on his bed, brought him to his chest and closed his eyes, falling in and out of sleep countless times until the sun light was pouring over the horizon. He looked down at the boy in his arms - fast asleep, tear tracks staining his hollow cheeks. Roman knew how much helping affected him - the guilt the boy would feel afterwards, Roman knew, was unbearable. Sometimes it was better if Roman didn't help.

"Not even out of mercy?"

Roman rubbed soothing circles into his back as he brought up his lunch, watching as chucks of the somewhat digested food filled up the toilet bowl. He had gotten used to it at this point. It was disgusting but he was unaffected by it - much like the boy who leaned back, grabbed a tissue and shakily cleaned his mouth - in the end Roman had to help, bringing a cup of water to his lips, letting him slowly gulp it down to hydrate himself before he would be sick again. Roman sighed - they should give up trying new foods.

"Not even out of mercy"

Roman came home to find him sitting on his bed, curled up and crying. Wordlessly Roman cuddled up to him, stroked his hair and asked what was wrong. He broke down even further. The medicine was making him feel numb. Therapy made him feel worse. They gave him to a new therapist - he has to explain everything from the start again. Roman sympathised with him, he couldn't do anything more.

"What would you do out of mercy, then?"

Roman awoke to the sounds of screaming again. Yanking away his blanket, he rushed into his friends room and coaxed him awake. He was a professional at this point. Nightmares were a frequent occurrence - Roman knew what to do subconsciously. He lifted Virgil into his arms, brought him downstairs, cuddled him on the couch and watched Disney movies together until the next day. Roman called in to work - they gave him the day of, they usually do after this, they knew of his friends state, this was as much as they could do without making him feel uncomfortable.

"I would do something people would hate me for"

Six years. Six years of suffering, for what? Not a single smile, or laugh, not even a chuckle, or a snort. Roman stared at him across the room, a frown permanently stuck on his face, his skin pale, his hair a ruined mess. His brain one, too, struck with memories he would never forget, destroyed with PTSD that couldn't be shaken by a thing.

"And what would that be?"

Roman walked across the room and knelt on the ground before the armchair, scooping up his shaking hand, kissing the back of it jokingly. He forced a smile. It was the least he could do. He always liked Roman's smiles. His friend stared at him back - a silent conversation passed through their eyes. It was time. Roman helped him stand, brought him into a hug and swayed side to side, pressing a gentle kiss to the crown of his head. "I love you, Virgil" he murmured, and for the first time in weeks, he heard him speak, voice crackly, horse, rough. "I love you, too, Roman"

"I let them go"

—
Second Welsh exam tomorrow heh *dab whip cry*

11:21pm