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The exhilaration that washes calmly over Virgil as he gazes at the pills in his hand could almost be interpreted as fear, but he tries to morph it into a type of excitement or relief. Of course, he’d much rather live a happy life that’s not muddled with mental health issues and he can feel his heart beating out of his chest as if his fight-or-flight reflexes are about to kick in and have him give up on this attempt entirely, but this is what he’s been planning for some time. He’s actually made it, he can’t just bail this time.
Each of the planned attempts he’s made in the past have always been unintentionally interrupted by his friends (or maybe they were intentional, a small voice in the back of his head suggests, but he highly doubts it). A few months ago he was on the rooftop when Logan came out too, saying he wanted to study the sky as it was a clear night, and he stayed with him as they both stargazed together. A while before that he ran into Patton on his way to the bridge downtown and they ended up getting coffee together before walking back to campus. Perhaps it was a year ago by now when he was going about trying to take apart a disposable shaving razor when the twins decided to invite him to see a movie and then play video games back at the dorm. It was a nice movie. Virgil remembers poking harmless fun at Roman for crying during the emotional parts, how Roman then returned the teasing when Virgil sneezed at the sudden sunlight upon exiting the cinema. He remembers the taste of salt and toffee dissolving in his mouth. The sound of the brothers arguing over a Smash tournament as he very easily beat them both in each game they played. The smell of Belgian chocolate at the quaint cafe that Patton took him to. The sight of Logan’s relaxed smile and the reflection of the stars in his glasses. The feeling of contentment every time someone made him forget about what he was about to do.
The feeling of blood trickling down his arm and bruises on his collarbones. The sight of his teary face in the mirror as he tries countless times to pull it together. The smell of his room during a depressive episode when he can’t even begin to try cleaning up. The sound of his muffled, hitched breaths at night when he suffers through panic attacks alone. The taste of nothing but chewing gum and metal.
Where there’s good, there’s more bad, and Virgil will never understand the optimism in some of his friends. They all have their passions, the things that will always make them smile, the will to push through the hard times like it’s as simple as swimming through water. But while they all swim expertly through clear water, Virgil struggles through a thick bog with no swimming abilities at all.
The idea of death has always frightened him, but perhaps it’s time to face that fear head on.
The knocking at the bathroom door doesn’t even phase him this time around. He’s aware that he’s crying but ignores his core impulses as he raises his hand to his parted lips, tastes the bitter capsules in his hand, about to swallow maybe six or seven of them. But then, suddenly, his movements falter and his body shudders all over, because of course his anxiety would stop him from doing this, and whoever’s on the other side of the door finally manages to unlock it from the outside and break in to see the sorry sight.
“Virgil!” The shout sounds all too familiar. Janus rushes over and immediately takes hold of the wrist connected to the hand that’s clamped over Virgil’s mouth; the fear on his friend’s face counters any coolness that he usually exhibits, looking shocked, almost guilty. “Virgil, spit out whatever’s in your mouth.”
How did he know? For a moment Virgil’s clueless, but then remembers just how perceptive and observant Janus secretly is. One of his courses is about psychology, he’d know if someone’s showing concerning signs. Brief memories of brightly coloured posters in doctors’ offices flash through his mind about signs that someone may be about to commit suicide: a sudden change in appearance (Virgil had told Roman he was thinking of growing out his hair, but really he was too nervous and unmotivated to visit the hairdressers), becoming withdrawn or detached (Patton gave Virgil a hug one time that he doesn’t quite remember feeling; he felt like he was watching his body from across the room), prolonged sadness or mood swings (he still feels guilty about reacting with annoyance when Logan pointed out that he seems a little more melancholy lately). Janus would know these things. Those posters are probably all over the psychology textbooks, he’s probably read that list of signs a hundred times.
Apparently he’s taking too long to react, because Janus taps him lightly on the cheek with his other hand. "Don’t act like I can’t tell what you’ve got in there.” He tugs at Virgil’s arm gently, his voice strict and serious sounding while his movements are delicate, not violent or made out of anger like Virgil had expected. "I’m not leaving you until I know you’re okay. Spit it into the sink.”
Fresh tears well up in his eyes as he removes his hand from his mouth and spits the pills into the porcelain bowl. His plans are all over. Again.
"That’s better.” Janus’ voice immediately softens, although still maintaining a serious and concerned tone as his eyes stay fixated on Virgil’s face. "Much better. Is there anything else you’ve done?”
Virgil shakes his head and inhales sharply as his brain finally catches up, he’s failed yet again but this time it’s different because he’s been caught, caught by the psychology student of all people, and now he’s going to tell everyone else - a string of breathy sobs steal the rest of the air from his lungs. "I’m sorry—“
"No, none of that. No apologising.” Removing his grip on Virgil’s wrist, Janus instead moves to hold his hand comfortingly. "Do you think you can talk to me about this? I'm not going to pressure you, but I will ensure that you talk to somebody, at least.”
"Don’t you— don’t you have a class soon?” Virgil uses his free hand to rub the tears from his face, but the action doesn’t really do much as the old tear tracks are quickly replaced with new ones. This is the first time in months that he’s let himself cry uncontrollably like this in front of someone else; his cheeks feel warm with embarrassment.
Janus notices this and raises one eyebrow, his expression appearing almost hurt. "You think I'm going to prioritise a class over a close friend of mine who just tried to kill himself? That I've found you trying to swallow the pill bottle and now I'm just going to leave you alone?” There’s a beat of silence as Janus examines Virgil’s face, seemingly finding something amongst the chapped lips and avoidant eyes that proves, perhaps, deep down, Virgil really did expect for him to leave for a class in which he could easily ask for notes from someone who’ll actually show up. His voice drops, almost to a whisper. "Really?”
Virgil’s throat feels scratchy and dry as his breath hitches again. "I…”
Memories start to flood his mind again, but these are different. The side glances that Janus would give him that Virgil passed off as nothing - people look at things and other people all the time, right? The hushed whispers to their other roommates, him telling Logan that tonight’s a great opportunity to stargaze, telling Patton that there’s a new cafe in town that sells amazing Belgian chocolate with its drinks, telling Roman and Remus that he thinks they’d love the new film coming to the local cinema. He probably also suggested to them, when Virgil wasn’t there, that they should take their reclusive friend too. That he deserves a sweet treat. That he’d love to know about the upcoming meteor shower.
And now that Virgil thinks about all those events, when plans were unintentionally interrupted by stargazing or platonic coffee dates or movies, he remembers the soft looks, the carefree laughs, the gentle touches. Remus really went out of his way to make sure Virgil had easy access to his favourite snacks during the film while Roman congratulated him with hugs when he won the Smash tournament. Patton paid for the entire coffee date despite Virgil’s protests and seemed to catch his eyes with a fond glance as he kissed him on the cheek playfully just to see him smile. Logan caught him looking down at the traffic and the streetlights below him and cupped Virgil’s face with his hand, lifting up his chin so he could see the breathtaking array of constellations that shone despite the light pollution of the ruthless city.
How would they have reacted if they didn’t distract him from his plans in time? If Janus wasn’t there to see the signs and alert them? Virgil pictures their faces, solemn, tear-stricken, in agony of losing a friend. And then he makes eye contact with the man in front of him again, the one who just saved his life, and amazingly, this isn’t even the first time.
"I’ll tell you about everything.”