I'm gonna tell you right now: this is pretty dark.

WARNINGS: attempting suicide, mentions of death, mentions of self-harm

I think that's it. Reader beware.


Gilbert shivered from the cold, pulling his jacket tighter to his body and wishing that he had worn something thicker. It was November for god's sake, yet here he was, wearing nothing but dark skinny jeans, a t-shirt, and a thin jacket, with a beanie sitting lopsided on his pale hair. At least there wasn't any snow on the ground.

He didn't know where he was going; he just needed to get out of the house. Even if it was past midnight, and damn near freezing. He just needed to get away from his family.

As he got closer to the train tracks just outside of his small town, he let his thoughts wander back to that night's incident.

"Gilbert, I will not stand for this kind of laziness in my house! Have you seen your report card?" He waved the offending sheet of paper in the teen's face, and proceeded to list off his grades. "You got a C in biology, algebra, and English, and a B- in German! You speak German; how on earth do you get a B-?! Not to mention your D in history! A D! This is absolutely unacceptable! Look at Ludwig's grades: all A's. Are you really content with your little brother getting better grades than you?" The older man sighed. "Why can't you be more like your brother?"

"Because fuck you, old man," Gilbert muttered, balancing on the tracks. Now, he didn't hate his brother; he highly doubted that he could ever hate him. That didn't change how much he envied him. He was always the favorite. Their grandfather and their parents had always adored cute little Luddy, while Gilbert was the problem child. Nowadays, he embraced the label: he was the literal embodiment of problem child. He got into fights, skipped class, didn't do his homework, snuck out, you name it. Once in a while, he'd even get drunk with the other bad eggs in his school. They weren't friends; they just got stuck in detention quite often. Really, his only friends were a couple other outcasts: Antonio, the cheerful Spaniard with bipolar disorder, and Francis, the fashionable French love expert that got picked on for "acting like a fag".

"Fucking assholes," the teen said, thinking of the way the more popular students antagonized he and his friends. "I don't need their bullshit; I don't need anyone's bullshit. So what if he wears scarves? Doesn't make him gay... I mean, he is, but that's besides the point... And just 'cause he's bipolar doesn't make him a psycho..."

"How long do you plan on talking to yourself?"

Gilbert jumped, looking around for the person addressing him.

"Down here."

He glanced down and saw a boy around his own age lying down with his head resting on the tracks. He had longish wheat colored hair sticking out beneath a red beanie, and amethyst eyes hiding behind circular glasses. His hands were inside the pockets of his red hoodie, which was emblazoned with a large white maple leaf, and his jean covered ankles were crossed.

"The hell are you doing down there?"

The kid shrugged. "Waiting for a train to come. You?"

"Just had to get away from my family... You trying to kill yourself, or...?"

The blond shrugged again. "Whatever happens, happens. I don't care anymore."

"Well that's depressing as hell," Gilbert remarked, sitting down next the boy.

"That's life," was all he said in response.

They sat for a while in silence before Gilbert spoke up once more.

"I'm Gilbert."

"Matthew."

"...Why do you wanna die?"

Matthew didn't answer.

"I mean, it's gotta be something pretty bad for you to lay on train tracks. I've dealt with a lot of shit in my life, but I've never wanted to... End it..."

"You've dealt with a lot shit? Try having your mom die, while your brother and dad are too wrapped up in their own grief to bother with you, and have your only friend move to a different school, so you're all alone and have to hear everybody whisper about "hey, isn't that the kid who's mom died?" "Yeah, I heard she killed herself." "I heard it was cancer." And you have to hear everyone gossip about the worst thing in your life, but no one ever asks if you're ok, or how you're holding up, or even what your name is, so you just go about your day without a single modicum of comfort, knowing that no one cares about you."

Gilbert didn't respond for a moment.

"Both my parents are dead. It's just me, my little brother, and my grandfather. My brother and I had to leave our hometown in Germany and all of our friends to move to this crummy town in America. My grandfather likes my little brother better because he gets good grades, and doesn't hang out with the gay kid and the bipolar guy. Joke's on him, though. Ludwig's gay as hell," he said, chuckling without humor. "All the other kids beat the shit out of me and my friends on a regular basis, especially that one time when they saw Toni's scars from when he used to cut. Fran gets called a fag; one time they wrote it on his locker in Sharpie; and I'm just the albino orphan who's completely fucking useless and can't even protect his friends."

"...Guess we both have it pretty bad."

"You know... I could be your friend. You seem really cool; much too cool to splatter your brains on some train tracks."

"Maybe if the world were different."

"The world's not all that bad."

Neither for several minutes, the sound of the wind rustling in the trees the only sound.

"I'll tell you what. If a train doesn't come by..." Matthew glanced at the time on his phone. "1, I'll get off the tracks, and we can be friends. If a train does come, well..."

"Splat," Gilbert whispered. He looked down at the boy laying next to him, his eyes serious behind his glasses.

"Deal."

He shifted so that he was laying down as well, his head on the track.

"What are you doing? You'll get killed too," Matthew said, looking at Gilbert in confusion.

"Yeah, I will. But if you're gonna go splat, so will I. How much longer do we have until 1?"

Matthew glanced at his phone again. "19 minutes."

They didn't move, simply looking at the stars above them and taking in the crisp, cool November air.

At 12:57, they heard the distant whistle of a train.

"There's still three minutes left, but that train sounds kinda far," Matthew remarked.

"Trains travel fast."

At 12:59, the train was nearly to them.

"Only 45 seconds left. 43. 42. 41..."

The train was close; they could both feel the vibration of the tracks as the locomotive got closer.

At 10 seconds left, Matthew took hold of Gilbert's hand, who squeezed it tightly.

They began to count down, as their death approached.

"9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2-!"


I'm gonna leave it up to you whether they die or not.

Until next time, dear readers.

Also, reviews are welcome.

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