Suicidal Thoughts{Finished}

My hand started to shake as I raised the tip of the gun to my temple. I quickly found a pencil, all of the pre-written suicide notes came to my mind, pages and pages say who exactly made me feel this way- but only a few words were written; I love you, Luke. * TRIGGER WARNING *


17. 16

Chapter 16

(I am so sorry it took so long for an update! I've been in the hospital so I just haven't been motivated enough to be updating but I'm good now so il be updating for now on.)

I listened to the message one last time, then deleted it in a hurry. No, he couldn't do this all the time. Why did he have to do this all the time. He would tell me he's been waiting months to go on a break with me- then mope around and call me relentlessly. It didn't add up. Luke always told me I was crazy, but now I'm just beginning to realize he's been the crazy one all along. I wanted to get over him, so that's exactly what I planned to do. Even if it meant detaching my self from the rest of the band, it had to happen. Calum was supposedly in love with me, and I didn't want to get tangled in with another band boy. Ashton wanted something so unrealistically impossible to happen. Michael was there when I needed to get my mind off of things, and with out the others- I wouldn't need that kind of thing.

I deleted the voice mail, and didn't text Ashton. I left the bathroom, seeing how where the lock smith was. He was beginning to pack up his tools, writing out a form of the doors he had changed the locks on. I grabbed my check book, a pen and wrote out a check for one hundred seventy dollars. It was fifty dollars per door, and nine in tax, with an eleven dollar tip, so it would even out to a flat one hundred seventy. I'll admit, it was a lot, but I'd pay any price to keep strangers with a key to my door walking in on me. He handed me the new key, while I handed him the check. He nodded, and we thanked each other. I walked him to the door, closing it behind him. I grabbed a bottle of water, and made sure my other doors were locked before I headed to Luke's.

The door to Luke's house creaked open, and I considered telling him to changed his locks, too, or at least give back his key. I hada classic red pickup truck, I had no doubt all my clothes and items would fit in. I had brought plastic trash bags, so the whole thing would be easier. I shut the door behind me, then started with the basement and decided I would make my way up.

Luke's pov

I waited for the longest time, unable to remove my phone from my pocket like the security guard wanted me to. We were five minutes away from going on stage, our opening act had just ended and they need to set up for us. All of the other boys had already put their phones in their dressing rooms so they didn't loose it when we we're jumping up and down everywhere. I couldn't put my phone away, though, not just yet. If Ariana called me back when y phone was in my dressing room I wouldn't be able to get back to her until after the show- a long three hours. By then, she would be busy and unable to speak right then.

I waited with my phone, unable to fathom having to give it up for the concert. Michael joined me in front of the mirror that shone the reflection of a boy who had his hair so high a skier would be afraid to ski on it. I laughed at the thought, my eyes adverting to Michael.

"How long until we're on?"

"A few seconds," he replied, eyeing my phone.

Calum came from behind, grabbing it with both hands and running. I grumbled, trying to reach up and grab it- failing to do so. I swore under my breath as I realized she could be calling right this minute and I wouldn't be able to get back to her for another three hours. I pulled out my wallet, flattening a picture of the two of us between my fingers. I started to think that maybe there's a gap between her reality and mine. For instance, what I found to be absolutely morbid, she found it to be absolutely beautiful. When I saw something with out flaws, she could find flaws like an astronomer could find stars.

I found her to be beautiful. I guess you can tell what she saw.

Ariana's pov

I had around three and a half bags with only the upstairs left to do. I was making good time, also. I had about forty five minutes to get my glasses fixed. I started to stuff the half full plastic bag with my clothes, realized how I had basically wiped my existence from the face of his house. I cleaned up a little in the basement, making sure to grab every single last thing that belonged to me. I didn't even bother to consider if I'd given it to him or not. I was going to make this break up as painless possible. Well, for me anyway.

I fixed scarce amount of his tank tops that were in his closet, hung the few up that were scattered from him last-minute packing. I made his bed from his hasty leave, and then moved onto the bathroom. I grabbed my depression pills and anxiety pills, that I had stopped taking a while ago. Though, it seemed like I always needed them. I threw them in a half-full bag, and grabbed the rest of my stuff from that cupboard. As my eyes scoured the cabinet under the sink, I saw a few of my blades and a bloody cloth. Seems that I was already disappearing from his life. These blades were in plain site and he never said anything to them about me.

As I sat on the dirty bathroom floor, with my back leaning up against the tiled walls, I realized the entire reason of my attempt. It only took me a whole year to figure it out. I closed my eyes, taking in all that used to be me, and all that still is me. My mind staggered to grasp the whole memory of the time. It was a Monday, July 15th 2018. He had just gotten back from their second tour, six lonely months of me, myself and my mind. There was no words shared between us, more like an inadvisable grey cloud above us. Neither of us could actually begin any conversation- we just spoke the necessities. Even though he held me close at night, we were as far from each other as could be. I remember thinking that if I just disappeared, he wouldn't notice; he wouldn't care. I remember knowing that my pain was never greater than it was then. My heart heart with every step, my mind lagged on, my feet dragged over the pit of hell. He knew about my past problems, but that's the thing. Past. He never knew about my current problems. No matter how hard I tried to convince myself to stay- I had never wanted anything more, then, to die, to leave. It wasn't even the fact that I was going to die that enticed me; it was the fact that all the pain was going to go away. I wouldn't be left sobbing alone in my room with no one to care. I wouldn't be left with nothing to love and no one to care. So, that night, the 15th, I woke up in the middle of the night. I was ready to go, ready to die. Disappearing felt so... right. I had already dreamt of a hundred ways to do so. But, instead of doing it that night, I decided to save it for his birthday. It would have been the ultimate birthday present.

My phone went off, sending me straight into oblivion. I didn't know where I was, just blinking in the light. I quickly answered the phone, not paying attention to the caller.

"Hello?" That voice, so vaguely familiar. Hauntingly familiar, actually.

"Um... yes?"


"Yeah, uhh... who is this?"


Megan. Megan Lipman. She was my best friend through out high school, but then she went to college. I, well, I still haven't found which career I'd like to take on. That's another story. But, I still didn't understand why she was calling me. e never even talked anymore. I licked my lips, then bit the bottom one. I knew why we drifted apart, and it wasn't the prettiest fight we ever had. I had been spending more time with Luke than I ever did with my family. Even when I was in the hospital from my attempt, she didn't come. She sure as hell knew about it, but she didn't care.

"Why are you calling?" It came out a little harsher than I had intended, but fuck it.

"What are you doing later today?" I rolled my eyes. She could not be suggesting this.

"Not hanging out with back stabbing friends who think they can call me two years later and think I don't give a fuck."

"Ariana..." she sound exhausted, needing this.

"No. I don't care. You only came to me when you needed me, and I wish I had saw that before we were attached at the hip because I would have never talked to you after that."

"You're overreacting."

Now, I was standing up, I had drew the trash bags to a close, walking to the stairs and throwing it to the others. "Overreacting is when your friend finally finds happiness- and you get in a fight because she's 'too happy'. Overreacting is getting into a giant fight over something that can be resolved over coffee. Overreacting is not visiting a once close friend at the hospital from almost committing suicide. However, overreacting is defiantly not the response I have towards you."

"That was a long time ago, Ar. Besides, you weren't with Luke every second because he made you happy, you were with him every minute because you were never ending obsessive with him and his band."

"Yeah, Megan, I'm sorry that I hung out with the only thing that kept me holding on so long. I'm so fucking sorry, because if it wasn't for that boy I would probably committed a long time ago. But, I understand, because me living is a bad thing; and I don't blame you one bit for wanting me dead."

With that reply, I hung up the phone. She wasn't someone I wanted to deal with right now.

I thought about my words, wondering if what I had said was actually true. Luke was one of the reasons I had gotten sad and committed the first time. But would I have really committed before my first year of college, if he hadn't entered my life with his clumsy perfection? I didn't know. I do know that I had never known loneliness than that moment. I had been so devoted to Luke, I shut everyone out. I didn't have my family, or my one friend, just Luke. But, then, he was gone to.

I turned off all the lights upstairs and walked down the stairs. I'm not going to say I miss him, but I do. I was sitting in a starbucks, waiting for my black coffee to be called. I had enough time to get my glasses fixed, and drop off all of the bags.

"Black coffee for Rhiana"

I rolled my eyes, knowing they'd never get it right if Ariana Grande walked through the door and ordered. I grabbed my black coffee, turning to get a napkin, and finding the black coffee all over my white cardigan and white top. My eyes rolled, this was the second time in two days. I was getting tired of being coated head to toe in black coffee. I looked at the thing in front of me, gaping only slightly.


"Sorry about that coffee... and your shirt..." he laughed slightly, probably trying to lighten the mood.

I started to dab my shirt with napkins, telling myself not to feel guilty. Luke and I were over, done, I could like or date whoever I wanted.

"Did you want another coffee... Rhiana?" he asked, reading the name off my cup.

"It's Ariana, hah, and no, there's enough in here." I told him, shaking what was left of my cup.

"At least let me help you clean you up," he smiled, tugging off my cardigan and drying it with napkin.

His eyes grazed over the bandage I kept on my arm, and the light white lines that I had forgotten to cover with concealer. Before it got too awkward, I grabbed my cardigan back, slipping it on. Thank God I didn't have anywhere else to go.

"Want to sit with me?"

"What? Yeah, sure," I smiled, trying to seem at least a smidgen bit friendly.

He led me to two seater table, and pulled out a chair for my, like a gentlemen. That in it's own made my heart swell, just the tiniest bit.

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