Achilles, Achilles, Achilles, come down

Ghost didn’t struggle with depression like some people did. He wasn’t destructive in the respect that he cut himself or actively attempted. He was passively destructive. But only when he was away from his boyfriend. His Patroclus. His everything. Sure, when he was with the man he felt happy. Content, joyful almost. But without him, he was cold, callus. He never attempted self destruction before this though, it never got to this point. But, he snapped after some of the new recruits ended up breaking into his room and smashing everything relating to his boyfriend, calling him horrible names for being gay.

Won't you get up off, get up off the roof?

Ghost stood at the top of the roof, looking down at the street below. He sighed, closing his eyes for a moment as he let the winds whistle past him. 25 stories. He was on the roof. He knew if he jumped, he’d die. And while it didn’t seem so bad to him, a small, nagging part of his brain kept telling him that his boyfriend would hate him. One thing about Ghost was that he never showed much emotion. Never let himself be vulnerable or weak. But with his lover? He was gentle, tender, loving. Because his boyfriend deserved the world, and Ghost would give it to him. But, he couldn’t stop the thoughts. The words echoing in his head, that he’d be better off dead, that no one would actually love him. That he was worthless, a monster, an abuser like his father.

You're scaring us and all of us, some of us love you

He’d left a note for his boyfriend. Simple, straight to the point. He tried to be blunt like always, but he ended up apologizing numerous times. For tainting his boyfriend, for ruining him. For everything. He knew his love was on his way, he knew the police were probably on their way to burst open the roof door and take him to a psyche ward. But he didn’t care. Yet, he hesitated. He hesitated taking that step, because what if he was wrong? What if he was wrong about everything?