Hahaha I bet you thought I forgot about this book. I didn't, I just haven't felt like writing in a long time. Now I'm back to needing to vent, hence this random update.

TW: Suicidal thoughts/actions, depression, self harm.

"I kind of want to kill myself," Keith murmured into the air. He then let out a laugh, so soft yet somehow simultaneously full of so much malice. "I'm fucking crazy, aren't I?"

Part of him wondered if the wall would respond to him. Thankfully, it didn't. He hadn't actually lost it yet. That was... good. Arguably.

"I'm just sad all the time."

Keith didn't even let himself blink as he glared at the blank wall of his bedroom.

"All the fucking time. I just want it to go away."

He laid back, flat out on his bed like a very sad, depressed star fish. He wondered what it would be like to be a starfish and whether he could be reincarnated as one after he died. They were nowhere near as edgy as a wolf but he'd take it. It seemed nice to not have to worry about anything, to just stick to rocks and chill.

"I can't stay here anymore. I want things to be normal again... but what even is fucking normal anymore?"

The ceiling seemed to spin around him for a moment but, after one single blink, it stopped again. He kind of wished it would rotate again- just so he could pretend to be a five year old on a roundabout, screaming as their mother spun it around and around and around and around. Roundabouts always made Keith feel sick but nausea seemed better than nothing. Wait, no it didn't. Keith hated being sick. The depression just made every alternative seem favourable, even if it wasn't.

(But it was better than nothing, wasn't it?)

"Maybe I should just kill myself tonight. Who would care? Everyone else is happy getting on with their own lives. They don't need me. I'm just... just a downer. I'm always angry and pessimistic and I bet I really suck to be around," He knew that was true. His mum had told him countless times to brighten up and stop carrying around his own personal thundercloud. Keith had come to the point where he just didn't give a shit about the weather. "Yeah. I could just take some pills and no one would find me until it was way too late."

Keith sat up, plan settling in his mind with such rigidity that it made him feel a bit dizzy. "Would anyone even find me?"

He shook his head. No. No one would find him.

He wandered into his bathroom, staring at the bath with wide eyes full of innocence that seemed as dark as the grim reaper in that moment. He could imagine himself, lying beneath the water, face scrunched up but, somehow, at the most calm it had ever been. He wouldn't have to worry about being a burden if he drowned because no one would have to care anymore. He wouldn't have to feel bad about not being able to get out of bed because he would be dead. He wouldn't have to feign happiness whenever he talked to anyone again. It seemed like the best decision and his brain couldn't even fathom an argument against it.

He twisted the cold tap, four twists, as always. Then the hot four times. That was always enough to make the perfect temperature to sink into with a slight burn that made him feel alive for a brief second. Turning his head, his eyes settled on a dusty bottle of bubble bath that had been sat on the side of the bath for weeks. He hadn't been bothering with the stuff. Not since he had crashed again. He tipped the entire thing in, deciding that he would try to find even a tiny little hint of solace in the childishness that was a bubble bath. Maybe he'd spike his hair up with bubbles before he killed himself. One final second of not-so-sad-something before he would become nothing.

Tugging at his shirt and pulling down his trousers, Keith undressed. It had been a while since he had hurt himself because lately he just hadn't been bothered but there was still an abundance of light, white scars littered across his thighs. He had been a dumb teenager back then and had, once upon a time, regretted it. Now he didn't give a fuck.

He stepped in, hissing as the hot water hit his pale skin... but it was nice.

Nice.

(Better than nothing.)

"I guess this is it then." He spoke into the open air before grabbing some bubbles in the palm of his hands. He stared at them; watched them bounce slightly with life- more life than Keith at least. He raised them to his hair and spiked up his mullet. His face was blank. He looked like a three year old with spiked up hair in a bubble bath but, still, all he felt was nothing. Nothing. Nothing. NOTHING.

As he began to sink into the water, he heard a light vibrating noise, followed by a dumb My Chemical Romance song. It was something Lance had set Keith's ringtone as as a joke but he had never bothered to change it, despite not having listened to the emo band since he was about thirteen.

"Lance..." Keith murmured. That was enough for him to jolt up as tears began to stream down his cheeks. He didn't want this. He didn't want this. He didn't want this.

He scrambled out of the bath, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around his dripping wet body. He then searched for his phone in his trouser pocket on the ground, pulling it out to be met with Lance's beautiful face. He swiped answer without even thinking.

"Lance, Lance, I'm so sorry..." Keith began to ramble out a million apologies without letting Lance even greet him.

"Slow down. What are you apologising for?" Lance asked in his usual laid back voice. Keith didn't understand how he always sounded so chilled out, no matter what was going on. The fact that Keith was crying was apparent in the way his voice was shaking and his never-ending sobs.

"I was going to kill myself."

"I'm coming over, alright?"

Keith nodded, even though Lance couldn't see him.

This is just plain old sad because I wanted to vent but I hope you enjoyed it regardless. Suicide is not the answer though. Please, if you're having any suicidal thoughts, reach out because you're not alone in this. You're never alone.