Note: this chapter contains heavy depictions of suicide and deterioration of mental state.

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"Why the fuck don't people listen to me, eh, Mum? ... What's that about?" The slow, slurred rhetorical questioning is barely audible from a moderately drunken George, as he looks woozily into the night sky. He hadn't intended on drinking so heavily this evening; however, due to the change in circumstances, he now finds himself in a back alley just a few blocks away from the centre of London. Scattered around him are numerous crushed, empty beer cans; and a near-empty bottle of vodka. Combined with the several drinks he had at the bar with Andrew, he can barely think straight. What he can remember, though, is how angry he is about the situation regarding his seemingly countless problems; and the way in which Andrew spoke to him about them.

"Everyone thinks ... they know me. And how I should be dealing ... with all this shit." He clumsily pours more of the contents from the vodka bottle down his neck, no longer caring for his responsibilities neither as an adult nor a parent. "Truth is, Mum ... I don't know either. I just ... want to forget about it all." His sluggish monologue continues as he finishes the bottle in his hand, tossing it carelessly to the ground. It smashes to pieces on impact with the concrete below him, startling him as if he wasn't the cause of the noise. "Why ... can't I just forget about it all?"

His eyes glisten as fresh tears form over his amber irises; with no hesitation, he allows them to fall over his thick, dark lashes and roll down his cheeks. His lightly-stubbled jawline becomes moistened, the sensation causing him to sloppily wipe away the tears in natural reaction. As he rids them, more tumble from his eyes; and he plays a losing game of catch-up, in an attempt to eradicate them all completely. Eventually, he gives in, letting out his turmoil in loud sobs, which echo down the back alley. Because it's so late, only the odd individual or group of kids walk around the streets of the capital city; so he is safe to be as loud as he wishes with very little consequence. Without applying any logic to his actions, he punches the brick wall next to him; of course, this jars his knuckle harshly, and he cries out in pain. He tries to flex his fingers, but the pain rolls down each one, radiating into his wrist. Despite the intense discomfort he has inflicted upon himself, he evaluates irrationally that he does not care for the result of anything he does. The next thing he does, is fall to his knees, and into the glass from the bottle he just broke. The shards pierce straight through his clothing, leaving cuts on his lower legs; he feels the sensation of this, but doesn't hold any concern over the fact.

"I'm ... so done ... " He murmurs to himself, taking a moment to catch his breath before he plans to perform his next reckless act. He stands himself up messily; the little pieces of glass cling to his jeans, threatening to stab at his skin with one wrong movement. Light blood staining adorns the mid-blue denim that covers his legs, from the force he applied when he was positioned on the ground. Very little thought goes into his next moves, as he flees the back alley in search of a way to further vent his emotions.

"He could be anywhere in London," Andrew points out, as himself and Levi trawl the streets of London rigorously. It's been a solid couple of hours since Levi arrived in the capital city already. "I can't believe I've fucked up this badly."

"We will find him," Levi assures him, although he is secretly fearful that this won't be the case. "We just need to keep looking."

"Do you think it's worth contacting the police?" Andrew suggests. "Or will they just fob us off because it's not been twenty-four hours since George went missing?"

"Let me try calling him." Levi brings his phone from his pocket, clicking onto George's contact number. The phone rings a few times, before going straight to voicemail. "He's not answering. You don't think he's upset with me too, do you?"

"I don't see why he would be." Andrew shrugs, in accompaniment to his words. "It was me who kept pushing him to get help for his issues."

"No ... I've been saying it a lot lately, too," Levi explains. "So I think it's both of us. And the fact he's struggling with life in general at the moment."

"I feel so bad for him." Andrew frowns, sympathetic that his best friend is stuck in such a rut. "I just hope he's not done anything stupid."

"So do I." Levi's eyes glaze over with emotion; he isn't one to cry all that often, but the idea of losing his life partner is enough to push him to do so. "I need to find him. I need him safe."

"Wait," Andrew gasps. "Have you both got Find My iPhone switched on?"

"Oh my god," Levi chokes out, scrambling to open the application on his phone. "I completely forgot about that. We both usually have it switched on."

"But will he have switched it off to make it harder for us to find him?" Andrew peers over Levi's shoulder, in an attempt to watch what's going on, on the screen. "Because if he's feeling reckless, he might pull a stunt like that."

Levi doesn't immediately answer, for he is busy checking the settings. However, when he finds his answer, he becomes optimistic. "It's switched on! I can see where his phone is!"

"You're not fucking around?" Andrew demands, his eyes averting quickly from the phone, to his friend. "You can actually see him?"

"As long as he has his phone with him then yes, I can see him!" Levi exclaims. "It says he's not super far away. About a seven minute walk. He's near Southwark Bridge, in the centre of London."

"What's he doing by a bridge?" Andrew questions. "Bit of a random place to be, isn't it?"

Levi suddenly begins to panic. "Well, I don't want to be pessimistic or automatically assume the worst case scenario, but why else would a suicidal man be near a bridge?"

To this, Andrew's eyes widen in fear. "We need to get to him and see what he's doing. Right now."

"You reckon?" Levi responds sarcastically, yanking at Andrew's wrist to drag him towards the location on the phone screen.

"Guess this is it ... " George utters almost inaudibly, as he approaches one of the large concrete support beams that holds the mint green bridge up. In this moment, he is not in his right mind; he has only half a sense of what he's doing, and no longer holds any value in the consequences that could come of what he plans to achieve. His jittering fingers touch against the beige structure before him; since he unleashed some of his anger by punching the wall a little while back, his hand has started to regain some feeling again. He glances down at the water below the bridge, and, in sync with this action, his breathing grows heavier. The sensation of adrenaline kicks in; this, mixed with the drunkenness (from which he is gradually sobering up), gives him a bittersweet high, as he contemplates how to climb up onto the edge.

"Look at me Mum, hey?" he instructs, with a slight awareness that she can't answer him. "I'm in the same place ... as you were. Well, maybe not exactly." He clumsily brings his phone from his pocket, checking the time. "Well, it's almost four in the morning. Three forty-one." He slides his phone back where he found it, careful not to drop it into the water so that somebody can find it on his person once he's discovered later on. A shaky breath passes his lips, as he evaluates the deepness of the water. "You know, Mum — the water isn't actually that far down. I assume it's deep enough to drown, though. How great would it be, for me to come and join you right now?" Unexpectedly, he halts in his words. "You've got kids, Georgios. You'd be doing the same thing to them by letting them lose a parent. And what about Levi? And everyone else." Unfortunately, this change of heart is only temporary; the apprehension of his own worthiness sets in. "They're all better off without you. Stop getting all sentimental now, you tosspot. Get a hold of yourself."

Momentarily, he closes his eyes, as a means of trying to calm his overwhelming emotions and his overactive heartbeat. The thudding from his chest throbs through his body, making him feel just the smallest bit weaker. He realises that these are his final moments, but he tries hard to ignore the fear that's hidden behind this concept.

"This is it. I'm doing it," he whispers. "I'm coming, Mum. I'm coming."

He finally begins his short climb to the edge of the bridge, but falters to the point of becoming frozen to his spot, when he hears two familiar voices.

"George!" Levi shouts.

"Stop, Yog!" Andrew calls, almost simultaneously. "Don't do it!"

George is too stunned to even move; he never expected Andrew to turn up, let alone his husband. Without shifting positions, his eyes pan to the side, catching the men in his peripheral vision as they run over to him. Above all, he is confused as to how they found him in the first place.

"Please, my darling," Levi pleads with him. "Move away from the bridge."

"I'm tired of it all!" George yells, the words escaping his lips as a fine mist from the cold air. "I can't do it anymore!"

"Yes you can," Andrew reassures him. "You can, mate. You just need to get the help. And we can support you with that."

"It's not going to do anything," George asserts. "Just let me get on with what I wanted to do! It's for everyone else's benefit."

"Absolutely not," Levi responds, slowly moving closer to his lover. "I'm not letting you do this. If I have to call the police, I will. That's if nobody else already has."

"There's nobody else around," George remarks. "It's nearly four in the morning. Just because it's the capital city, doesn't mean there's constantly people. I waited for the coast to be clear."

"But why would you want to do this?" Andrew interrogates. "You have two kids. They love you, so much. You have Levi. You have your dad and your sisters. The rest of your family and friends! They'd all be so messed up if you did something like this."

"The kids deserve a better father than me!" What was once fury mellows to heartbreak; George lets his speech out in devastating intervals between cries. "Everyone—deserves—better!"

"You're the best thing to ever happen to us, my darling," Levi pleads. "We won't be able to cope without you. And you have to think of your father. He's just lost the love of his life. He can't lose his only son too — he's too fragile."

"Levi's right, Yog. I know we're making this all about us ... but right now, I don't think you have an awful lot of reasons to live that are solely for your own sake," Andrew explains. "So for now, you have to hold on for the sake of those who love you."

"I can't do it," George whimpers, covering his face with his free hand; to say he is overwhelmed by everything at present is an extreme understatement. "I can't."

"Yes you can." From arm's length, Levi places a loving hand on his husband's shoulder; this prompts George to remove his hand from his face. Once they are making eye contact, Levi reaches out to offer his hand. "And we'll get through it together. I promise."

"And what if I can't get through it?" George mutters. "What happens then?"

"I've told you before. We cross each bridge as we get to it. Those kids need you. Your family needs you. Your friends need you. I need you." He gestures with his head, to his outstretched arm, hinting at George to take it. "Baby steps. We do a little bit at a time. I'm making it my mission to make sure we do this together."

George hesitates for a few excruciating moments, trying to evaluate in his head whether he should trust in what Levi is saying. In this moment, he cannot see how things can get better for him — after all, the main issue he has can never be resolved, as he will never be able to have his dear mother back. The poor soul tries to talk himself into going with Levi and Andrew. Fortunately, the moment he thinks of the faces of his children, he melts into his sentimental state once more; he cannot bear to imagine how Kieran and Gemma would react to finding out their father was no longer alive.

Finally, after much reluctance, he accepts Levi's invitation; and he grabs his partner's hand. Immediately, Levi pulls George from the bridge's edge, in to a tight hug, bursting out into sobs unexpectedly — much to George's surprise. Of course, he has seen Levi cry many a-time before; however, this time feels just a little different, in a way he cannot quite put his finger on.

"Don't you ever do that to me again," Levi cries, his voice muffled due to his mouth being pressed to George's shoulder.

"I'm sorry," George apologises, with no emphasis in his voice due to the lack of energy.

"You don't need to be sorry, mate," Andrew assures him. "We were both just worried that you'd do something irreversible."

"I just don't see another way out," George utters, a subtle tinge of hopelessness evident in his tone. "I can't bring my mum back."

"I think you need to start listening to us when we say you should get some help for it," Andrew suggests. "We aren't saying it to be arseholes. We're saying it because we care. We want you better."

Levi eventually pulls away from the embrace, with reddened cheeks only visible due to the street lights reflecting on his defined features. "Please, George. Please listen to us. Please let us help you."

As the intense guilt creeps in from his own actions tonight, George flits his gaze from Andrew to Levi. He isn't sure what to say in response; and he especially doesn't want to cause his beloved husband any more anguish than he already has done.

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Chapter twenty-one! Pretty intense. I hope you liked it though. xx