TW: Suicidal thoughts, tendencies, and attempt.
Poorly written, somewhat prose. Might have a Pt. 2, not sure.

Keith banged his head against the wall. You were doing so good... he thought, thinking about his mental health. What happened?

I can't anymore...

The wind hit his face at an alarming speed. If he could feel any more anxiety in the moment, that sure put him off the edge. It's bitter coldness. The adrenaline it seemed to embody for him. But it didn't make him scared. It made his knees weak.

"Shiro, thank you," he whispered, and suddenly the wind was ripping at him, stinging his delicate flesh and it felt like it was pulling his wrist wounds apart. The sky is beautiful tonight, he would've though, looking up at the dullness, but instead he closed his eyes, giving in to the never-ending darkness.

It felt like he was falling forever, but that thought never crossed his mind.

In fact, the last thought that crossed his mind, was blank. Because he couldn't think, just feel. And in that moment, despite how alone and sad and scared he felt leading up to this moment, nothing compared to the terror he experienced, until he opened his eyes as his heart dropped, and then were screwed shut at impact.