I stared longer than I should have. I should've acted immediately, but I didn't. It was like some twisted drama and we just gazed at each other. He looked at me as if he couldn't believe I had just interrupted him. I looked at him as if I didn't understand, and I didn't. I saw Daniel Fenton there, a junior who slept in class and laughed with his friends and had good parents and amazing people surrounding him, holding a gun to his temple. I didn't understand. I didn't get it.

His eyes narrowed at me when he noticed I wasn't leaving-maybe because I didn't stop him. His arm didn't lower the gun and he hardly moved. Danny's head turned back to look at himself in the mirror.

"Why are you still here?" Danny's voice rang out, sounding harsh and loud, and I flinched rather violently. The words echoed against the cold, blue tiles of the wall and reverberated against the linoleum and they just didn't go away. They ran circles around my head, and the words didn't stop.

"I-I don't know," I said after a long stretch of silence. My shoulders were tense and I didn't have the slightest idea of what I should say. "What are you doing?" I questioned and my voice sounded calmer than I really was, almost casual. I didn't know what I was doing. I didn't know what I should do. I took a step forward because maybe that would give me an idea. It didn't.

"I should just leave. This isn't my business," I told myself and I was almost convinced that was true. I didn't know Danny, I didn't know his life, and I sure as hell didn't know what was going on. I could've just walked out of the room because I didn't know this guy. Not really, anyway. Not where it mattered.

I took a step forward instead.

Danny laughed. Not happily, not full of malicious intent either, but just tiredly. He was just tired and sad.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" Danny answered with a question, his voice soft. He didn't look at me. I took another step forward. And another. And another. And suddenly I was beside him and I saw everything. I saw the rise and fall of his chest and it was consistent-deep breath in, slow breath out, repeat. I saw his outfit; a dark blue button up shirt and black jeans. He wasn't shaking. He wasn't breathing hard. My eyes widened.

"He planned this. This wasn't some 'Hey, let's go and kill myself today!' No. He's wanted to do this for a while." I thought. "How didn't I notice?" I chided myself, until I realized no one else did either.

I didn't think, I just jumped forward and grabbed his arm and Danny never realized I was that close. The gun clattered to the floor, skidding until it bumped against the wall. Danny let out a cry of surprise and my momentum brought us tumbling to the ground.

"No, no, no, no, no…"I repeated, not sure if I saying this more to myself or my classmate. I kept saying it, repeating it over and over, even when Danny tried to scramble away. I kept my hold on his arm and pulled him close, between my legs and against my chest. I leaned back against the blue tiled wall between the sinks and Danny still thrashed against me but I just wrapped my arms around his torso. I leaned my head forwards to press my face against his neck, whispering until he spoke.

"Let me go," Danny whispered and it seemed forced. His voice wavered and I could feel his body tremble. "Let me go," he repeated and his voice was more stable now, but he was scared. He raised his hands to try and pry mine away from him.

"No," I stated again. I couldn't let him do that.

"You don't want to help me," I was going to interrupt him, but he kept talking, spitting out his words. "You're only still here because you think it's the right thing to do. You don't want to be here to actually help me," Danny finished and his hands became still to rest on my arms. "You don't know me. You don't know what the hell is going on!" he yelled.

"Do you want to talk?" I asked-almost sarcastic-and my voice sounded hoarse, scratching against my throat. I shifted to raise my knee to somewhere more comfortable, but I saw the gun glint under the light and let my leg drop down to hide the weapon again. My stomach churned. I felt rather than saw Danny shake his head and his chest heave in a low chuckle.

"I think it's a little too late for that. Just a little too late."

It was silent for a while. We sat and listened to each other breathe, feeling each others' heart beat. I broke the calm with a question I regretted the moment it came out.

"Why?"

I could feel Danny tense up and I strengthened my hold to be prepared if he tried to run. He laughed instead, long and hard.

"Why?" He echoed. "Why, what?" Danny said and his arms crossed over his chest. "Why am I sad? Why did I lose my marbles? Why I just want to die?" his voice got louder and louder with each word until he thrashed enough to break my hold. He scrambled away and stood up, facing towards the empty stalls. My eyes widened up at him and I pushed off the ground and stood flush against the wall behind me.

I followed his arms as they twisted around his body, holding himself together. Danny's body trembled harshly and he drew in a deep breath. I tried to get myself to walk to Danny, to hold him again, keep him away from that gun, but no matter what I told my body to do, I stood rooted to the spot.

"You don't know me, do you?" He asked. His voice didn't give away anything, which only made it sound more like a statement than a question.

I shook my head anyway.

"I want you to know that I go through a lot of shit and nobody sees that," Danny drew in a deep breath again and I almost convinced myself this was a dream, until a loud and shuddered breath was exhaled. "I don't want anyone to see it, anyway. It's too personal. If I want to die, then I want to die. It's that simple," he explained, and it sounded casual. Danny kept his back to me so he never saw me run my hands through my hair or wipe them over my face.

"No, Danny, you can get help. You can talk to people. You don't really want to die," I started to sound desperate. I wanted him to see that he could get help because as selfish as this may be, I didn't want his suicide on my hands.

I started to let my mind wander when he didn't respond right away. I thought about what time it was. I thought about why no one else had come into the bathroom-because it was after school- and why I had to find Danny. Why couldn't his friends find him? They would know what to say to him better than I would.

"Destiny is a crazy thing," Danny stated and I saw he had turned to face me sometime in our silence. My eyes widened when I realized what he said, because I knew I hadn't said anything out loud, until I realized he wasn't talking to me, but rather at me. "Some people are destined to be great people. From the day they were born 'til the day they died, they were just talented. Like Mozart and his music, or Einstein and his inventions; they were both brilliant," Danny presented with a smile lazily draped on his face. He sighed. "Then, there are people who are destined to be evil. They're the people who're genius at creating chaos. Charles Manson. He had a whole cult of followers to kill for him!" he marveled and his hands unraveled themselves from the embrace to paint a picture with his hand gestures. "Could you imagine the influence he had? Has, still to this day?" Danny questioned and his eyes glowed with wonder.

I shook my head and croaked our a sore, "No." I wasn't sure what I was saying no to- his rant or this whole situation. He continued as if he hadn't heard me.

"Then there are the people who are destined to be static. They fill the space between the good and the evil and no one really remembers them after they died anyway. But, they made a difference while they were here, you know?" and this time, he really did look at me and his eyes searched my face to see some sort of approval of his theory. He looked away before I could decide and we just stood there for a long time. He didn't really move, no shifting or fidgeting, just like when I first saw him and I noticed his gaze was on the gun to his left on the floor.

"At least he isn't going after it," I thought. I didn't want to see the nine-millimeter, so I let my eyes rest on Danny's mop of black hair instead.

"So, which one are you?" I wondered aloud. He jerked up, his eyes locking on mine and he almost looked surprised. Danny had forgotten I was here.

"I haven't told you my part yet," he observed, and his voice sounded distant like our conversation was a buried memory from a lifetime ago. Danny's line of vision dropped back to the gun and I thought he had forgotten me again, but he spoke with his head still lowered. "Then, there are the people who are destined to die," Danny remarked and each syllable was punctuated to stand out. He glanced up at me before continuing. "There are those static people who try to help, but it doesn't matter." I felt like he was specifically addressing me at this point, and I shuffled from foot to foot under his stare. Danny squatted down to retrieve the gun I tried so hard to forget. "If someone wants to die bad enough," he looked at me, through me, as he stood back up, "they'll find a way." Danny concluded and pressed the gun to his temple again. His gaze turned to the mirror and he watched himself, almost as if I had never been there in the first place.

I stepped away from the wall, stretched out my hand like I was trying to grab him. "Danny…" I whispered and my voice trailed off, not knowing where to start my argument.

"You're not gonna change my mind. I've been pumped with lithium for years, and all I am is a ghost of that drug. This is what I am. I tried to go to Sam and Tucker, my best friends, but they never want to really talk and really listen. They like to speak and never really say anything," Danny explained and his tired blue eyes looked to mine as if trying to read me, before he moved his head away to watch himself again. "You're the closest to knowing who I am and we don't even know each other. We've never even talked before today, have we?"

I wanted so badly to interrupt and tell him he was wrong but in all honesty, he was right. I didn't know him. All I did was wave to him in the hallway, maybe smile. I fidgeted as my eyes roamed over him. Danny was calm again and had lost the tremble that had shaken his entire body before. He was perfectly still.

My stare dropped to the linoleum and all of the scuffmarks it wore. I tried to remember all those inspirational quotes from movies and books and those self-help assemblies, but they all seemed cheesy. None of them fit. I lifted my head again and stood straight and tall to look at Danny.

"I want to save you, Danny."

"You can't save a dead man," and he didn't even look at me this time like he usually did, didn't move for a long time until he cocked his gun, and suddenly it was all real again, not a dream.

My breathing got harsher and I could feel my hands start to sweat and "what was he doing?" because he was really going to die. I wouldn't see him in English class or pass him in the hallways and no one else would either because he wouldn't be here anymore. I heard my own gasps-not Danny's because he was ready for this-echo back at me and I wrapped my arms around myself because maybe that could stop the god damn shaking.

"Danny, please," I paused and trembled violently for a moment, waiting until it turned to tremors again, "don't." I pleaded, begged him. A sad smiled drew the corners of his mouth upwards, though only slightly. "Danny, please!" I yelled, voice cracking, and I hoped to God that Danny was hearing me and that I was getting through to him.

I realized I was crying. I wiped angrily at them because I wasn't supposed to cry. I never cried. They didn't stop after the first drops fell and the gasps didn't stop either, but Danny still didn't look at me.

"You don't care that I'm killing myself, you only care that I'm killing myself," Danny's words pierced me, driving a dagger through my chest and back out the other side because, again, he was dead on. "There's a difference, and yes, I know you know that," he spat out before he laughed and this time it was bitter. It was harsh and angry and Danny's entire body shook with the effort.

I knew what Danny meant, though. I knew and he knew that if I heard he had passed away on the announcements or gossip that would no doubt be going around, it would be sad, but I wouldn't cry. I wouldn't bat an eye, really. But there I was, sobbing in the bathroom while he held a gun to his head and it was suddenly different now, only because I had to watch him die.

My hands came up to block my ears and grasp at my hair, pulling it hard, trying to distract myself. I didn't want to hear him say anything, with his words taunting me. My ears were ringing with his laughter and it resonated long after he stopped, mingling with the sound of my shuddering gasps. I opened the eyes I didn't know I closed and fell back against the wall, my arms falling limply.

Danny stood directly in front of me, only inches separating us, with the gun lazily in his hand against his thigh.

"Listen, I know you don't want to be here. I know you don't know how to deal with this. I know," his eyes fluttered and he inhaled a deep breath, because who knew how many he had left. I didn't want to think about that. "I'm sorry you had to see this and I'm sorry you had to find me. But this doesn't change anything," He used the gun to gesture between us. "This isn't some movie with some happy ending because happy endings don't exist. Eventually, we all hurt and we all die, and that ends everything we ever knew," Danny stepped back and used his gun to wave around his head as he tried to prove his point. "I'm not gonna change because you happened to see me."

I nodded like I understood because I think I did. You couldn't stop him when he made up his mind. I stifled my crying, and I stopped shaking and Danny smiled at me and I thought it was beautiful and it was. It was beautiful because it was the last time Danny would smile and it was beautiful because it was really him. It was full on Danny, because in that moment, he was there and vulnerable and open and there was no way Danny could've smiled like that for anyone else because it was his goodbye smile, and I smiled back.

Danny rested his free hand on my arm, holding it there like he was debating on something. Finally, he lifted his other arm to circle around me and he pulled me close to him in a hug. I raised my arms to wrap around Danny, too, and we stood like that for a long while before either of us pulled away. I let him step away for me to glide out of my crevice between the sinks and mirrors and I walked to the bathroom door. I could feel him watch me as I did.

My hand rested on the door when I decided to look back one last time. I saw the blue and grey speckled stall doors, the same as always with the last door almost off it's hinges. I saw the sinks and how they always seemed to drip. I saw the tiled walls covering the old concrete bricks with the penciled in graffiti. I saw the floor, too, and none of it was any different than when I first walked in. None of it looked cleaner or brighter and there was no hidden message there that was suddenly shown to me, because it was all just the same. I realized what Danny meant then, because everything ends and the world just keeps going. Those small things can be beautiful or evil, but they're not noticed and they don't matter. That bathroom with those walls and that floor would be used again as if nothing happened. Things happen, and you can't stop them. I realized that no matter how hard you try, every person has their own path and they're going to follow it. You can try to guide them to somewhere else, but if they don't want to be saved, they'll walk the path they were destined to.

I looked to Danny one last time and I nodded to him. He nodded back and I opened the door and left and I didn't look back. I floated down the hallway in a daze and I noticed all the things I didn't before.

I glared up at the lights that quietly hummed. I waved to the few students who loitered in the hallway. I watched the ground as it hazily reflected back to me. I smiled to the walls covered with lockers and the trophy case that glorified the jocks and I wondered who else had done the same thing. I didn't look back to the bathroom though.

I didn't look back even when I heard the gunshot ring out. I felt my heart clench and the tears stung my eyes and it wasn't long until the drops started to fall and this time, I didn't try to stop them. I let the tears fall, stumbling after each other as they raced one another to the floor. I wrapped my arms around my body again and held myself when a sob escaped me.

I didn't look back when the loitering kids ran to where I left. I didn't look back when I heard a girl scream or when the senior boy yelled for someone-anyone- to call 9-1-1 because "maybe we can save him!" I just didn't look back.

After all, who can save a man who was destined to die?

Hi. This is the author, and I just wanted to say that yes, there aren't always going to be happy ending no matter how bad the American Dream wants us to believe that. Not everyone we meet will always be there. I know that no one wants to hear that, but sometimes it's true. We can't control how people think, or what they do, and we can only try our best to make them understand, though they may not ever get it.

"We will hope for better things though me may not ever get them." -La Dispute, 'Safer in the Forest/Love Song for Poor Michigan'