Frienship/pre-slash; takes place during college time-frame; warning for depression and suicidal thoughts

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"Y'know why I went into psychology, Spengs?" Peter asked idly one evening, pulling Egon's attention from the textbook he was currently bent over.

The blond was thrown for a moment by the question. He hadn't put much consideration into Peter's major, to be honest. Though they'd known each other for the better part of two years, and been friends a little less time than that, it had never really occurred to Egon that Peter might have had a reason for going into psychology. "Perhaps so you can go into private practice one day? Make plenty of money as… how did you put it, once? Being a head shrink to crazy, rich people?"

Peter snorted in amusement and took a sip from the can of soda he'd been rolling back and forth in his hands. "Well, there's that," He admitted, "But I don't… I mean, I don't think that's really why I picked it."

"Oh?"

"Nah."

Peter offered nothing further, studiously avoiding Egon's questioning look. A few minutes passed and only when Egon returned his attention to his studies did Peter speak again. "I thought about going into theater, actually." He said, airy and nonchalant, "Always wanted to be famous."

Egon couldn't help the small smirk tugging at his mouth. "I could see how that would suit you."

"Wouldn't it, though?" Peter grinned in return, but faded back into something more serious, "I decided to be a doctor instead, though, for some reason."

"For some reason?" Egon pressed.

"Yeah… I'm not gonna say my reasons are totally unselfish. I mean, it does kinda sound nice to… I don't know. Help people, maybe. But I think I picked it because I wanted to understand."

Finally, Egon's textbook was completely abandoned and his full attention turned to Peter. "Understand what, precisely?"

Peter shrugged. "What makes people tick. What makes them act the way they do. What makes them…" The younger man trailed off there, suddenly looking up from his soda can to Egon, "Do you ever get the urge to do something you shouldn't?"

Surprise at the sudden change of subject was well hidden behind Egon's unusually strong ability to keep a straight face, but his voice betrayed his confusion. "How do you mean?"

Peter shrugged again, sitting forward in his seat. "Just. Something… I don't know, something stupid? Not like going to a party and drinking too much and getting caught stupid or not studying for a test you have in the morning stupid, but something you really, really shouldn't."

Egon opened his mouth and closed it again, unsure of how to respond. Peter didn't seem to notice, though, and continued speaking. "And you know, I never got depression. Why people get like that. How a person can just want to sleep for hours… all day… I don't know, maybe forever, when they have shit to do. How they can look at the world and see nothing worth being around for. The world is… amazing, Egon. It's amazing and I," Peter paused for a moment, "And sometimes they can't see it, no matter how much they want to. Like nothing makes it through to them anymore and all they want is to just… stop."

"Peter…"

"I don't get it, Egon. I don't!" Peter glanced up and Egon was startled by the intensity of the look, "I don't get why some people's brains do that, and some don't, and I don't know why some people want to kill themselves even though every base instinct we have goes against it, and I don't…"

Words ran dry and Peter looked away again, turning his attention to the way his nails were now biting into his palms. Egon's well of speech also seemed to dry up at that moment, and he was left wondering what on Earth had brought on the sudden outburst. He rewound to the previous days and realized he hadn't seen much of Peter at all. He searched further back, through the past month, and considered what he had thought to be a new bout of lethargy and disinterestedness from Peter from a different angle.

Egon was beginning to get the shape of a picture he did not like.

Had he allowed his friend to carry on this way for, upon further consideration, perhaps two months, without even noticing? "Peter," Egon spoke at last, just as the person in question quickly stood from the couch.

"I think I should go," Peter said, "Should get out of your hair. You're trying to study and I… have practice in the morning, I think."

"Peter," Egon reached out to grab Peter's wrist as the younger man walked past, "Are you thinking about doing something stupid?"

"Hey, this is me we're talking about," Peter attempted to grin, "Define "stupid"."

"To quote a psychology major I know: something you really, really shouldn't do." Egon replied.

Peter glanced away and tried to tug his arm away from Egon, who refused to loosen his grasp even a fraction, then sighed. "I'm real bad at keeping my mouth shut, y'know that?"

The open opportunity to tease Peter's inability to stay quiet passed Egon's attention completely. "You haven't answered my question."

The apartment was quiet for a few moments. "I think about stupid things a lot, Egon. Not like I'd ever… I wouldn't. I don't actually think I could…"

It was rare that Peter spoke in fits and starts; Egon had only seen it happen when the psych major was made very uncomfortable. "Stay here tonight. I can study tomorrow, it's nothing pressing."

If there was one thing Peter had never liked, it was being ordered to do something, but he sank back onto the cushions of the couch with definite air of relief. "I really do have practice in the morning." He said quietly, even as he settled in.

"Miraculously, I don't think you have ever missed a practice session, despite the early hours. I doubt missing one day will endanger your position." Egon replied.

The two sat quietly for minutes after that, until Egon cleared his throat uncomfortably. "You must realize that there is so much for you here. And that there are many people who would miss you." He said quietly.

"Yeah."

"You shouldn't- Do not think about doing stupid things anymore, Peter. Never again." Egon attempted to sound firm in the face of a problem he had never considered.

Peter was quiet for a moment. "Not that easy, Egon."

"Well, try."

An amused huff escaped the younger man. "Always holding others to your high standards, aren't you?" There was no ire in the words, but barely any of the teasing tone Egon had come to expect.

"Only," Egon replied, reaching over to grasp Peter's wrist once more, "When I know they are capable of meeting them."

No reply met Egon's insistence, but Peter did twist his arm in Egon's grip until he could reciprocate the hold and wrap his fingers around Egon's own wrist in a tacit sort of agreement.

Egon supposed it was enough for now.