The blood ran into the bath water in rivulets of ruby red, and Castiel smiled.
Always across, but never up and down, had been his mantra. Up and down was for the worst day. Up and down was for when across couldn't make him feel anymore. Up and down was for when he was numb to even the pain.
And so his slashes were quick today. They started at his wrist and ran down halfway up his forearm and the blade didn't drag this time, the blade didn't dig into him this time, because he wasn't trying to feel anymore.
He was trying to end it.
And so he laid back in the bathtub, wearing nothing but boxers because heaven forbid he be found naked.
His vision was blurring already. It hadn't taken long. He wasn't scared at all, though. He watched with morbid fascination as the blood formed silken looking patterns in the water, saturating it and turning it pink and then bright scarlet and eventually deep maroon.
And he stared at the bathroom sink where the note rested and the floor where some of the water had splashed over and left tiny cherry colored drops.
His vision began to darken at the edges and he sank under the water. Not enough to actually be submerged, just so that his mouth and nose were under, and there he stayed until his lungs began to burn and he smiled as he faded because he was feeling something.
And then he heard a door open and a voice he recognized yell his name as the sounds got further away and he felt himself being yanked from the water and his chest stopped burning suddenly and he frowned.
"Stop," he slurred, cracking his eyes open just slightly to see who had taken away his feeling. "I was happy."
"No," the person said, shaking their head. "No, you weren't happy, you were dying."
"S'happy," Castiel repeated, frowning. "I felt something."
"You felt pain."
Castiel shook his head as something wrapped around his numb wrists. "No... I felt. I felt something. Made me happy."
Through the haze of dizziness he saw a shock of white hair and black tips and two different-colored eyes and he knew this person but he could've sworn one eye was red and not green before.
And then he was being lifted and he didn't protest because even though he wasn't feeling an actual feeling per se, he felt warm, which was nice because the water on his skin was cold and the heater had broken and so the winter was free to chill his apartment.
But the warmth didn't last long. He was outside suddenly and there was a blast of cold air and he was shivering against the warm body next to him and the person was clutching him tighter.
And he was lying down in a car, and he knew it was a car because he felt it bouncing on the cracked roads, and he was being lifted again and there was more bouncing because someone was running and he was taken away.
And then there was a pinch in his arm.
And it was dark.
The first thing he was aware of was bright white assailing him from all directions.
Someone was holding his hand.
Something was beeping.
It was warm.
Slowly he began to take in more and more.
Hospital, he thought, I'm in a hospital.
And Lysander was holding his hand and smiling hopefully and going on about how he would be okay and that he was finally awake and that they could get him help and he would feel again.
And he laughed.
He couldn't help it. It bubbled broken from his chest and escaped through his lips and then cracked into a fragmented sob at the end.
And he was still alive.
And he didn't want to be.
And when he was told he could get up to go to the bathroom he tore the stitches in his wrists and though watching the blood drip to the grey tile floor wasn't as beautiful as the bathtub it at least made a pretty sound.
And then he collapsed.
And they were too late the second time.