Gilbert was glad that Ludwig was home. He didn't know what he would have done, unsupervised. This also meant having to be interrogated about the visit to the counselor's office.

"It went pretty well. We talked about how I felt, and what options we have from here. Of course, counseling is one of those options." Gilbert explained vaguely. But Ludwig far too intelligent for that.

"What questions did she ask you?" It was itself a clever question, and one with the intention of extracting more information than it appeared to. If Gilbert told him the questions she asked, he would be obliged to tell his brother what the answer was. I might as well have him come along to the whole thing if he's just going to pry everything out of me anyway.

"Umm...I can't remember everything. She asked about my insurance."

"Be serious, Gilbert. This is important to you, and to me." Ludwig said, in a reprimanding tone.

"Okay, so she asked about how I felt." Gilbert wasn't going to go beyond that if it wasn't necessary.

"And, what did you say?" Ludwig prompted.

Of course I couldn't evade it that easily.

"I told her the truth. I'm depressed, and I want out."

"Is there anything you aren't telling me."

"Yeesh, Luddy. You're so inquisitive. I don't think there's anything else."

"What about that girl that called here yesterday."

Always has something in mind. Never could be a normal conversation. Always a motive, Luddy. Did I teach you that? Please tell me I didn't. You're never going to get a girlfriend that way...

"Yeah, her name is Lizzy. She's really nice, and not afraid of strangers." he smiled.

"What did you do, brother?" Ludwig asked concernedly.

"I was kind of on her doorstep when I was looking for the bus-stop. And then she told me how to get there."

"Gilbert, you can't do that! You could get arrested. What if the person was less sweet-tempered, and pulled out a gun and shot you? Or called the police? Besides, I asked you if you knew where the bus stop was before you left, and you said that you did."

"Well that just shows how little you know. I'm way too awesome to be arrested. Besides, I didn't need her help. I could have found it with my sense of direction. It was just a nice thought."

"I can't believe..." Ludwig muttered.

Gilbert put extra effort into trying to sound like his ordinary self around Ludwig. He hoped that it put his brother at ease.

Within in him, worms of self-hate were writhing. They whispered terrible things. All he could do was tell his impressionable soul that they weren't true.

Before he went to bed, he prayed. "Dear God," his heart felt something deep, and fearful, "Help me. Help me. Help me. Help me. Please help me." He knelt, bleeding out words from his mind into quiet intonations. No one can hear you, something whispered. Gilbert was afraid that it was himself. And he knew that this was a someone he didn't want to be.


Ten minutes of traffic, and two radio songs later, Lizzy was at her job, and she hated it. She worked in the editing office of a local newspaper. Editing might have been an interesting job, but Lizzy was merely a secretary.

She entered the office, and waved to the receptionist. I hate all these people. Maybe she didn't actually hate them, but she wished that her interactions with them would be fewer.

"Have you seen the print-out that was on my desk, Lizzy?" someone named Annie asked.

"Sorry, no. I hope you find it." Lizzy kept walking.

She wasn't paid enough to be everyone's secretary, but she always seemed to be fetching prints or caffeine for the editors.

As she rounded the corner into the main office where she worked, she had a flashing thought. My job could be the reason I'm depressed. This revelation came with a certain hopefulness. It would give her a reason to quit. But she needed the money, and it didn't seem connected.

The week passed easily for some people, but for Lizzy and Gilbert, it was agonizing. Time was the most efficient and slow torture that could possibly be inflicted. Because it was patient, and it needed no tools of pain; only a victim and itself.

Lizzy thought more about how short her life would be, even if it was comprised of all these little seconds that held the weight of eternity, it seemed. Gilbert hadn't talked to his counselor or done anything in a week, and Ludwig was becoming suspicious.

Gilbert could have escaped, but he called Lizzy the next Saturday.

"Hi! How have you been?"

Lizzy considered, before remembering that he still thought she was in recovery. "I'm doing well. How are you?"

It was Gilbert's turn to lie. But it was unfair question to begin. "Normal-ish." he laughed slightly.

"Normal for depression, or normal for normal?" Lizzy asked.

"What does normal even mean?"

"I guess we'll never know." she said,"Have you felt any worse?"

"Not really."

"Well that's good." she said through a smile, "But you should still go talk to Michelle again. Even if you don't like counseling, she can arrange other options."

It seemed like a very deep friendship had taken root in a very small window of time, and Lizzy didn't stop to think. It didn't need to be long though. Something was there, whether it was only their shared tragedy, or some card-draw of fate.

They were friends because they needed to be. Without depression, each would likely have passed out of the other's life, and with it, neither could truly appreciate a meaningful companionship.


Ludwig corrected his posture. It had been an hour since he had sat down to do research, and he still wasn't satisfied with the results.

The computer screen glowed light into his eyes, as he meticulously glossed through a page with number listings. He rolled his eyes and closed it out. Unhelpful.

He had a row of tabs open on coping with anxiety, and another selection devoted to helping someone with depression. But nothing had delved into the methods.

The anxiety was for himself, and he hoped that solving Gilbert's problems would reduce his own. His real irritation came with the vagueness of the articles.

Of course you continue to be supportive. I already know that. I need physical solutions, not obvious advice.

A web page recommended open conversation. That would be great, if he'd actually talk to me about it. It's like he doesn't want help.

But as much grief as Gilbert caused Luddy, the brothers looked out for each other, as was obvious when Ludwig suddenly bought a lock box, and started putting away dangerous items, after reading an article about suicide prevention within the household.

Ludwig was efficient, not emotional. Depression was a problem, and it needed a tactile solution. Unfortunately, by nature it was not a simple, clear-cut problem with a corresponding solution, and this bothered Ludwig. It was taking his older brother away from him. The brother who had raised him, always obnoxiously cheerful, and arrogant, was quieter, and even forced himself to laugh.

He would have never believed that anything could have knocked out Gilbert's complete obstinance, but now he seemed ready to give in to any force, be it large or small. There had been a moment when Ludwig felt the wind almost knocked out of him as he realized how dangerous and real this was.

Gilbert didn't have the face or personality to hide depression. If Ludwig felt terrible, it didn't show much differently in his demeanor or body language. But every inch of Gilbert resisted and detested self-hate. It was unnatural for someone so prideful to be brought so low.

His next step would be to call their father. He would know what to do, even if communicating with him would be unpleasant. *

"Gilbert, come here." Ludwig called out to the house.

"Arghh." came the response from the upper room. Gilbert stumbled down into the living room. "What is it Luddy? I was sleeping."

"You were playing on your phone in bed. Just look at this." He pulled up a tab. There on a background of white computer screen was a photo of a young man, dressed elegantly in a suit.

"Eww, is Roderich sending us self-portraits again, or did someone photograph cat vomit?"

"Read it." Ludwig said grimly.

It took Gilbert a moment to realize that it was a news article, and that the headline was "Local Musician Attempts Suicide Jump Off Concert Hall Building."


Thank you for reading. Please Review!

Note: The term "Normal for normal" is one that comes from a real life discussion with a friend of mine. So, I thought it's be interesting to include it.