Weak

His leg trembled as he stood there, wind whipping around him as if it was telling him that this was stupid, that it was wrong. He knew it as well, somewhere deep down there was a voice screaming at him that he shouldn't be here. Go back home.

Back to the life that he has known for the past six years. Six wonderful years, he added.

Because that's what they have been, right? Wonderful. Amazing. Of course it has been wonderful. His parents thought it was, his brother thought it was and there was huge part of him that thought it was, too.

However there was a part of him that screamed that it was wrong and that it wasn't amazing because how could something that hurt be amazing, it screamed, trying to get him to realise. To understand.

A sob broke from his lips as he crashed to the floor, his body trembled with the aftermath. This wasn't supposed to happen, he knew it shouldn't have happened. He shouldn't be here and he knew it but there was nothing within him that would physically make himself go back. It was like he couldn't bring himself to turn around and go back. Back to the warmth and the hugs.

Back to the lies. No, he shakes his head as if to try and rid that thought from his head. It wasn't a lie, it couldn't be a lie. If it was a lie he'd have to face up to all those years and he doesn't want to do that.

He knows what would happen if he had brought his phone with him. There'd be a phone call. Come home baby. We can just forget about this. Go back to normal. He knew them words would be spoken. He knew the tone they'd be spoken in. The same tone that convinces him that everything is alright every single time he's in doubt. And he knew who they'd be spoken by.

The same person who he had spent the six years with. The same person who tugs at his heart strings just at the mere thought. He loved him, he couldn't doubt that, but was that enough? It was for the last six years, he told himself. So why not now?

He didn't know the answer to the question he had been thinking about ever since he had left that house.

Another phone call would have been done now. Your mum is crying. She's worried baby. I'm worried. Please come home. And he knew, no matter what the small part in his mind would have said, that he would have listened. He would have sighed - a sigh that would have told the person on the phone that he had, indeed, convinced him back - and then told him that he was sorry and then would have said I love you.

I love you too baby, would have been the reply and it would have had his heart stutter for a moment and a small smile grace his face because it always happened.

A tear slide down his face and he couldn't stop it and fuck he didn't think this through. All the thoughts, all the phone calls that he would have received if he had brought his phone had broken him down. It was always the same. He could break him down any way, whether he was there personally with his words or whether it was just by thinking of him and the words that he would say.

He swore that he'd never end up where he was and he swore he'd never let the person under his skin like he did. His brother always did say he was weak.

Another tear slide down his cheek and he knew that if he didn't do it now then he never would do. He would go back and he would never leave him again. No matter what happened, he'd never leave. He wouldn't have the courage to do all this again. It was hard enough for him to get where he was this time around so a next time would be virtually impossible.

The fact that he would make sure that he wouldn't do it again. He'd sweet talk his manipulation of him to a new level and it'd make him unwilling to leave the house. Unwilling to speak to anyone but him.

He couldn't let that happen, no matter how much a part of him screamed it'd be the best for you. He would be taking care of you.

If he went back then he'd see his brother again and he knew just what his brother would say. It was because of him, wasn't it? Why don't you just leave him Jay? and then he'd tell him that of course it wasn't because of him and why would he want to leave him? He loves him. His brother would shake his head and then tell him that the day he decides to leave him, he'll be there for him. Because he's his brother and he loves him.

But he just couldn't leave him, not in the way his brother thinks. It just isn't something that he would be able to do. He wouldn't let it and he knew that even if he did, he'd be convinced to go back after a few days and it'd be like before.

It had run in his mind for several times over and he had planned out leaving a few times within the last three years but none had followed through because he had come home and told him that he loved him and they had spent the night together and he was lovely, as always, to him and it just made him rip up the plans he had made the next morning.

He stumbled back up to his feet, his legs shaking as if they were protesting over the fact that he was no longer on the floor. It was like they didn't want him to go through this as well. They just wanted him to go back to the house, back to his arms and never leave the house again so that they didn't have to be overused.

There was no indication of just how long he had walked for but he carried on going. His thoughts never stopped once and no matter how much he tried to convince himself that he was okay and that he would be fine, it was clear that he wasn't.

He couldn't remember ever being okay, if he was being honest with himself, but he could remember that back when he met him, he actually felt okay at the beginning. He made him feel okay and that was the thing that started this all.

It led to him staying with him for the past six years. It led to them being together for all that time. And inevitably, it led to him feel so scared and worried that he never left the house that much. No one loved him like he did, it was clear and it was drilled into his head all the time.

The wind seemed to pick up in speed as he approached the place. His arms were bare because he was only wearing a t-shirt when he had left the house. There was no thought of getting a jacket to cover his arms with. There was actually no thought at all when he left the house. He just needed to leave. That was all and that was what he convinced himself.

He tried to keep his thoughts to himself as he left the house, and he succeeded up until back when he let that sob escape. That brought the pouring thoughts that he just can't control. They just need to stop, he wants them to just stop. He doesn't want to cry but he couldn't control his tears.

The hold he had on them had broken.

It felt like a dam was threatening to break within him now. It was like it knew that his hold was broken so they were determine to break down their block. Break it down so that they could break him down. Make him break down and drown himself in his tears.

That's what if felt like everytime he cried. That he was drowning in his own tears and sometimes, he wanted just that to happened but anytime he felt that he wanted that he would always cry even more because he was too weak to have something like that to happen to him. They were all right when they said just how weak he was.

"I don't want to die," he found himself whispering as he stopped moving. He was only a few feet from the place where he could end this all but he just couldn't bring himself to reach it just yet. What if... he shook himself from the thoughts, not wanting yet another doubting thought. That wasn't what he wanted. He couldn't doubt himself so much otherwise he would be right.

He's just so fucking weak.

Pathetic.

He found himself moving again, heading towards the end. He couldn't help but think would anyone find him here? Only Harry knows of this place, he reasoned to himself. But why would he think of him to come here? He wouldn't, plain and simple. But he would do sometime. Whether it was soon or in a month's time, he would remember this place and end up coming here.

Reaching the edge, he looked over and couldn't see the bottom. It looked so high. Don't have to do this. Just go back to him, a voice nagged at him, fear inched into his mind and he almost felt himself agreeing with it. Just go back to him, forget all this happened and be safe, warm and content.

Because he was safe with him. Safe from anyone else and the cruel world. That's what and who he was safe from and for the past few years, that has been enough. He hadn't wanted anything else and now he has realised that he doesn't need anything else but he just needs to lose something that he has.

No, no, no. He didn't need to lose something he had, his thoughts were screaming and thrashing that he didn't. He needed John more so than he did breathing.

He hesitated, debating with himself about whether his thoughts were going to win, whether he'd go back to him like nothing had happened. But... could he do that?

There was something in him that was telling him that no, he couldn't do that because he had to get away. He had to stop being weak.

But the bigger part in him told him that yes, he could do that because it was what he needed to do. He had to go back because people were worrying for him - or at least, they will be once he thought it'd be the best time to tell them.

Play the worrying character card so well. No, no, no, he thought, he does care. He does.

There's no doubt that he does care because he actually does but it's blurring in his mind and the tears aren't doing much to make it any clearer; they're confusing and distorting it more than it already was.

It felt like reaching the end would be something that he just wouldn't be able to do. He kept stopping and hesitating, debating about whether he should just go back and then thinking about how he's upset him and that's not something that is good.

Though, that's his problem. He worries about upsetting him too much which means that he doesn't like doing anything that he doesn't say. Coming out at this time of night went against what he had said and he feels the guilt gnawing inside of him.

Don't leave me Jay, the voice of his brother surrounds him and he's close, oh so close to dropping to the floor once again. He feels the guilt weighing down on him even more and his fingers twitch to turn back around. They want to grab onto something.

They want to grab onto his hand.

Would they forgive him for doing this? Would his own mother and brother forgive him for this? His brother who had constantly told him to leave, that he would be strong if he left. That he would no longer be weak.

And his mother... his dear, sweet mother. She cared for him. She cared for him as well. He could never do any bad in her eyes so she wouldn't believe him, would she? No, he reasoned with himself.

Besides, he would never dare to tell her.

He stumbles and trips but managed to make it to the end. Looking down he can feel all his regret surging at once, trying to turn him back. Telling him that this is wrong. He shouldn't be here.

That he can't be here.

The guilt seemed to have collided with the regret which pushed forward at such a force that he feels himself stumble closer to the edge and then have his feelings almost tremble and draw back over the fact that they almost caused it.

Jay, baby, I love you, the voice whispers making him squeeze his eyes shut as if that would help shut it out. It sounded so much like him, like John. It felt like he was always with him. Watching. Commanding. Controlling.

He stepped closer to the edge and began trembling again. Could he do this? Could he really seriously do this?

The answer wasn't clear to him even though he was right there. It could be the false truth of him being there or it could actually happen. There was nothing inside of him that was telling him anything when he just wanted to know.

That's all.

He couldn't think. He wouldn't think. If he wanted to... or if he didn't want to. His mind wouldn't make itself up and he felt on the verge of breaking down. He doesn't want this, he knows that much, but he needs this.

It feels like he needs this and that is stronger than his want.

He feels dizzy. The wind rushes around him. He can't breathe. The surroundings are suffocating him.

And yet, he's alive.

He doesn't know how and he doesn't know whether it is weak or not, but somehow he finds himself stepping off the edge.

-

They forgave him.