❝In which a celebrity dials a random number in hope of finding one last thing to make him smile before he commits suicide at the end of the month.❞
"I'm going to commit suicide in one months time."
"I think you have the wrong number."
"It can't be t...
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Shane used his need to stay out of the rain as a rather pitiful excuse to huddle closer to Cleo.
The umbrella itself wasn't exactly a brilliant shield from the sky's downpour. The rose patterned, waterproof fabric was occasionally upturned in the harsh wind. He had forgotten how many times Cleo had apologized for that particular issue, assuring him that the bus stop was not far away.
Despite the pathetic excuse for an umbrella, the pair were both soaking wet. This was both due to the small surface area of the umbrella and the cars that drove by obnoxiously fast, coating them with water in the process. "So...," Cleo's voice quivered from the cold as she rubbed her hands together in a failed attempt to warm them up, "would you say it helped? I mean...it looked as if you let out your emotions. That's a good thing, right?"
Shane sighed, taking the umbrella handle from her grasp and into his own. Taking her average height into account, he bent down so that she was more covered. "Honestly...I...I don't know. " As much as he didn't want Cleo to reconsider her faith in him, he couldn't quite lie to the unfurling guilt in his chest. The visit to the Adams family had both lessened and worsened his conflict. Whilst the empty corridor had only increased the emptiness in his heart he could not deny how forgiveness had somehow set fire to the darkness inside of him.
"Look," she took the umbrella from him and took it down, seeming to realize that it wasn't having much of an effect. Cleo had halted him in the middle of the pathway, soaked and facing him with the kind of expression that reminded Shane of himself when he looked in the mirror each morning. Exposed. No mask. Open. Raw emotion before the mask of the day was placed upon his face. "I know it's not easy and...and mental health isn't just like some wound. You can't just plaster it up and pretend that it isn't there before looking at it the next day to find it to be completely healed. I'm not stupid enough to think that it is something that can just be healed by one action. And...and maybe it's selfish of me to say this." She paused for a moment, biting her lip as if attempting to hold something back. Before he knew it his hands were in hers as she looked him dead in the eye. There was something in her eyes that he had never seen before. Fear. He could have sworn that all those eyes had ever held was courage.
It was the fear that alarmed him. She had faced everything with not so much as a single chip in her armour and yet here she was, staring at nothing and breaking before him. "Cleo...," he attempted to speak but could not form anything that was not a lie. He knew what she would ask of him and it was something that he could not promise.
"I know and agree with all you say. Like...like taking control, a...and releasing yourself from all the guilt you feel. I...I get that. I really do. And...and I do get it. But...you can't just...what I mean to say is that you...I mean, I won't allow you to...no. It's not right to- screw it. I'm going to be selfish here because if I'm not then I'll never forgive myself. I'm going to be selfish and keep one thing for myself in a world that keeps taking everything from me. I'm going to ask you- no. Beg you not to do it. Don't you dare take your own life Shane Caliente. Don't. You. Dare." Cleo's voice was breaking at every sentence along with her heart. It was something that she had wished never to say to him. All of the words that she had dreamt of saying to him were now static in the air around them. They were now silent but held just as much power as when they were spoken. Deep down she knew that avoiding the sensitive topic would do no good. She had known that she would have to face it head on one day. She had just been dreading it. Using the right words to tell someone not to end their life was no small task.
She had failed once. She would not fail again.
Shane stared at her, watching in complete shock as the emotion in her eyes melted into liquid fear, salt water mixing with the fresh that was already trailing down her face. "I..." He didn't know what to say. He didn't know what to think. How was he supposed to respond to that short monologue, with one of his own perhaps?
Fortunately for him, Cleo had taken it upon herself to continue the conversation. He felt more than saw the hands wrapped around his waist in a punishing grip. She had begun crying into his jacket as if he had already left the world; as if he was already rotting in his coffin. The sky wept with her, although he was too focused on her to notice. "Please," her plea we barely heard over the piercing whistle of the wind, "don't kill yourself. Don't leave me here."
