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Please tag things involving me as 'theguybelowmesucks' so I can see them!. Hello! You can call me Kim! I write bad RT fanfiction and, once in a while, make bad art and gifs. I liveblogged Late night with Cry and Russ once upon a time, but I don't do it too often now. You'll see anime and/or video game posts too. Also--I'm really lame so don't get too excited ;u;
Anonymous inquired: ahh are you still taking prompts? Sorry if this is way too sad but, Michael walking in when Gavin is just about to attempt suicide and panics and comforts him and stuff?
Trigger Warning: Suicide Attempt
He’s going to do it.
Today’s the day that he’s going to off himself.
Rid himself from this world.
He looked at the gun in his hand. He remembered this gun.
“Use it only if you’re in danger,” Dan said. Dan gave him the gun one day when Gavin had gotten in trouble and nearly died. “You’ll have more power when this gun is in your hand. Do NOT mess around with it.”
Dan was right; he could feel the power—the responsibility of holding a gun—the ability to off anyone with it. He just kept it in his drawer under some clothes, just for any sort of purpose.
He never thought that this gun would choose his fate.
He grasped the gun firmly in his hand. He looked at the safety—it was on, so he was okay for now. But he planned to take that safety off soon enough here.
He looked at the time. 4:58 PM. In two minutes, he would take the safety off and blow his brains out with the same gun that Dan gave him—to protect him. He would note the time of death on the paper right before he shot himself. No reason in particular other than to give others the time of when he decided to kill himself.
4:59. Safety off. He took out a sheet of paper. Grabbed the pen, and wrote “Time of Death: 5:00 PM.” He paused. The time was ticking away. What else to say?
He grabbed the pen again. “Cause of death:” is what he wrote, and he held the gun up to his head.
5:00. He was getting ready to pull the trigger when Michael walked into the room.
“Hey, Gav—” He started, but he froze. Gavin’s eyes grew wide—like a deer in headlights. Michael looked really confused. It was as if he’s never seen this before.
“Oh God,” Gavin choked out and sobbed. “I’m sorry.” He shook his head and put the safety back on. He placed the gun on the bed and threw his head into his hands. “I’m so sorry.”
Michael frowned. He didn’t know how to act. He didn’t know what to do. He really was in a shock. “It’s not your fault,” He replied. He made his way over to the panicking Englishman and wrapped his arm around him. “It’s all right. Everything is going to be okay, Gav.”
Gavin sobbed louder and shook his head. “I don’t know what I was thinking—” he sniffled. “I didn’t think you’d walk in—”
“I’m really glad I did, though.” Michael brought him closer to his chest and hugged him tightly. “You wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”
Gavin nodded and gave a shaky sigh. “I’m sorry,” he repeated.
“I said don’t be, idiot.” Michael sighed and patted his back. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
And they sat there for what felt like hours, calming each other down.
Michael looked at the paper. He read it, and shook his head. He reached over with Gavin in his arms and took the pen.
He scribbled out the Time of Death and Cause of Death.