Things were.. okay. Of course, you couldn’t expect things to be perfect and stress free in the military, but it could at least be better.

You joined hoping to distract yourself from all the problems you haven’t been able to overcome, even with therapy.

Everyday was the same, only the interactions and missions made it different. It was starting to feel like a cycle you couldn’t get out of.

You didn’t ask for help, or tell anyone anything. You never did. They didn’t need to know, these are your problems, not theirs. It never will be.

You weren’t keeping it from them so they wouldn’t worry, no, you didn’t care if they worried.

You only kept it hidden because you didn’t want people trying to pester you, or judge you, because you were sick of receiving the same treatment, tips, and support that never helped you. It only served to make you curl deeper into your empty shell.

Once you finally were sent home now that you were on leave, you immediately went home. Making your way up to your room? You stare at the floor, your mind practically empty, your body only moving on its own.

You throw your stuff onto your bed, taking all the stuff out, you just let it lay there on your bed. There wasn’t any reason to organize right now.

Against your better judgement, you walk over to your desk, where your pills are. Staring at the bottle, you contemplate, your hand eventually reaching out to grab the bottle.

You pick it up, body tense as you take the top off slowly, then let it fall to the desk.

Before you could’ve continued, your phone suddenly went off with a notification. You hesitated, but eventually put the bottle down. You pick up your phone from your bed, opening the message.

“Are you free?” A text message reads, from Simon. You stare at your screen, silent.

You glance over your shoulder at the discarded pill bottle upon your desk, then at your phone again. “Yeah.” You reply.

“Great, let’s meet outside your place then.” He texts, then you turn off your phone, letting it fall back onto your bed.