Alright, I got this idea from a PruCan RP with Cygrus. I'm added the Romance tag because the ending is sort of romantic. AND DON'T YOU DARE SKIP TO IT! To be clear, this has ZERO SMUT in it, therefore is rated T for slight language and mental anguish and angst. And suicidal intentions. Please don't flame me about this cause I have legit evidence for all this shit! Have fun!

Matthew looked at the razor in his hands and gashes and scars on his wrists. A year it had been going on. A year he had saved up his money. A year before he bought a gun. A year of pain and sorrow and misery. All for nothing. He was about it pull the trigger. Suddenly his door opened and a voice floated in. It had been Lilly's voice. "Matthew, are you- Matthew?" The normally quiet subdued voice had risen in volume and urgency. She had rushed over to him and put her delicate hands around his, lowering the gun from his head. Matthew hadn't cried that hard since the night it happened. The night Gilbert Beilschmidt broke his heart into a thousand tiny pieces, taking the biggest shard with him to college and to whoever he wanted to be with there. Matthew had cried until the tears ran out, then cried again as he told his mother, who had recently given birth to twins.

After the gun incident, Matthew had been sent to therapy. He had met his old friend Lars there. Their reasons were different- drug use for Lars and depression and suicidal thoughts and tendencies for Matthew- but they found each other nonetheless. Three weeks into the native Canadian's time in that place, Lars had asked him to be his boyfriend. Matthew had accepted, finally hoping his heart would heal. And heal it did. Until that one shard was needed to complete him. The shard Gilbert had tucked away God knows where. He and Lars did everything he and Gilbert had done, minus the bird and stuffed bear, plus getting high every weekend. Same actions that felt so different from this man. The act of making love, yet with out the love needed to make it so. The only times Matthew felt even sort of complete with the man was during sex and when high.

Another year passed. Matthew was looking for colleges he'd like to go to when he got the call. Lars was in an accident. He had said to 'call Mattie' and they had found the number on his phone. They said he might not make it through the night. Matthew had ran all the way to the hospital, leaving a note for Alfred and his parents to find in the morning. He barely made it to the CC* room. They had held hands and whispered softly to each other in Lars' last moments. Matthew had experienced the tone of a flat-lining electrocardiogram first hand for the first time in his life. It wasn't like the ones on TV where the wife cried out. It stunned Matthew into silent convulsive sobs, his hand grasping that of Lars, the smaller blonde still whispering things like 'hold on, Lars' and 'you'll make it through this'. At the Dutchman's funeral, Matthew had held their final gifts to each other. To Matthew, Lars had given his favorite lighter. Matthew laid his gift, a handkerchief dyed the color of the Dutch flag, over Lars' hands as they were preparing to close the casket.

The third year held not only Lars' death, but his brother's wedding. Alfred had finally proposed to Arthur and Matthew supported them all the way. He had stood next to his brother through the entire wedding as the best man. Matthew had also found a college nearby, where he enrolled and was accepted at. He had begun planning his future in education as a teacher, and even got a job as an aide at his old high school. That year he watched students go through what he had experienced, from the break ups and get togethers to the bullying and injuries.

Year four was almost more than the Canadian could take. He still bore the scars of his heart being broken by Gilbert, and still fought the mental turmoil that had been threatening and slowly begun to chew away at his health and well being. He began attending therapy again, this time with adults who bore much more serious problems than ADHD* and parental abuse. He was with alcoholics, drug addicts, and a murderer on probation, as well as others. His first day when he told why he was there, they all spilled their guts about the loves they had lost due to their actions. They all told how empty they felt, and how that led to increased problems with their addictions and conditions. Matthew had shown them his scars from all the times he cut himself, some of which could only be about six hours old. Matthew quit counseling a week later under reason of 'complications with work'. Truthfully, he felt to much pain when he remembered or spoke about Gilbert and Lars to continue to do so. Another gun was purchased. He had chosen his day. May second was the day he would end his pain.

I stood on the roof of the building, looking down at the street some fifty feet below me. If memory served right, a mere half of that would kill me if I had decided I would jump to my death. But I had chosen a more practical method. A gun took far less time. The bullet would rip through me almost instantaneously. My hands wrapped around the shirt I'd been given years ago. It was white with the words 'I'm awesome' written on it in black permanent marker. This was the shirt Gil had given me that night we made love four times. Damn I had hurt the next morning. I looked down at my phone. Three texts. I looked through them to find that they were from my sisters and Alfred. All three were about the girls' birthday party. Today they turned four. Today marked four years since Gilbert left me. Two years since Lars died. Was it coincidence or did this day hate me? Francis's car pulled up in front of the building. He made it just in time. I looked up at the sky to see that the first star had appeared. My only wish was that this could've been avoided. Good luck granting this wish you damn star. The door to the roof opened and I sighed. "Sorry Francis, just missed me. I'm not stopping now." As I spoke, I brought the gun to rest just above my ear. What happened next stunned me.

"Mattie, I'm so fucking sorry I brought you this much pain." A voice that wasn't Francis reached my ears. Two arms that obviously didn't belong to my cousin either wrapped around my midsection and upper arms, rendering movement useless as I melted into the warmth. "Mattie, please don't do this. I love you. I didn't want to do something stupid and hurt you, but I ended up causing you so much pain. I'm not expecting you to forgive me, but please don't pull the trigger."

My mind finally registered the familiarity of the voice and embrace. It was Gilbert Beilschmidt, my first and only love, apologizing and, possibly, begging me not to kill myself. I dropped the gun and turned in his arms to bury myself into his warmth. God how I missed his arms around me. But I had it back now. All to myself. "Gilbert, I missed you so much! Please, don't ever let me go! I love you with all my heart and don't want you to ever leave me! I'm so sorry I doubted your love! Lars didn't mean anything, I swear it! I always loved you through these last four years, and I never want to be without you! You're the only reason I've gone this long. The hope and my wishes. Everyday on the same star I wished you would come back and save me from my hell, and now you are!"

Gilbert was rubbing my back calmingly. "Matthew, I'm so sorry about the last four years. I hate myself for doing this to you. I'm no good and don't deserve your love. You should've moved on. I would've never forgiven myself if you had died today."

I looked up at him to see tears. Gilbert was actually crying. I hadn't seen him cry since he told me about Veit*. It was almost endearing that he cried for my well being. I ran my hands up to his cheeks and kissed him. The electric shock that occurred as our lips touched practically welded us together, our tongues tangled in a dance of passion and longing. His arms pulled my body flush against his and my hands tangled in his silver strands. We separated and I grabbed his shirt, pulling it onto me to cover my scarred chest as we left the roof at walked down the five flights of stairs and out to Francis' car. As we got in back he whispered into my ear. My face went bright red and I heard Francis chuckle in the drivers' seat. I knew there was a lot of explaining to do once we got to our destination. His words repeated through my mind the entire time, creating a chant in his smooth voice.

"Lars, huh?"

Alright, I have experience with the electrocardiogram (heart beat monitor) and counseling shit. Here's your *'ed crap.

CC- Critical Condition, also could be Intensive Care

Veit- Veit is the name Cygrus and I use for Holy Rome in our RPs.

So fave and review! Hope ya'll know that flames vital regions will be invaded by Cuba!