Breaking Point

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A person can only take so much before reaching their breaking point. What happens when Esposito finally reaches his?

Tag: Angst, hurt/comfort

Warning: Suicide attempt, mental illness (depression)

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Esposito was driving home from work. It was late night but traffic was bad and he had lost track of time. His friends are all probably at home, settling for the night or just spending time with their family.

He glanced out the window and sighed when it started pouring rain.

"Great" he mumbled then ran his hand through his hair as he waited for the light to turn green.

He turned to the side again, only this time, noticing the car beside him. It's a family of 5. The father is driving with the mother sitting at the passenger seat while the kids are goofing off in the back seat. A familiar feeling started rising to his chest. It made it hard for him to breath.

He turned forward again when cars started honking impatiently. Realizing the light had turned green, he started driving again. The whole drive to his apartment, he was eerily silent.

He parked his car at his usual spot then made his way up to his apartment. The doorman smiled at him and he gave him a weak smile back before stepping into the elevator. Arriving at his floor, he went to his door and unlocked it.

He shut the door behind him and tossed his keys onto the coffee table as he dropped onto the couch.

He buried his face in his hands, trying not to groan. Today had been a long and exhausting day. He woke up feeling like crap, he actually considered calling in sick before forcing himself to get up.

Then at work, they worked on the case that was still on going. He had to interview the victim's wife again while simultaneously consoling her. She even snapped at him once and questioned if he had a family of his own. When he answered no, she told him coldly that he could never possibly know her pain.

It stung. A lot more than he showed. But he brushed it off and told everyone he wasn't bothered by it when they asked.

He leaned back and stared ahead. Trying desperately not to notice the dense silence that filled his apartment. His empty, hollow apartment.

His eyes fell shut.

Don't. Don't go there. Not now.

He opened his eyes and was disappointed to still find himself all alone.

He stood up then made his way towards his bedroom. He shrugged off his jacket and tossed it aside. He stopped in front of his mirror and stared at his reflection.

There were times where he would barely take a second glance at himself. Then there are times where he would feel confident enough to look himself in the eyes and feel good about being where he is. But now, he feels almost empty. Staring at the shell of someone who used to be more than a failure. More than a mistake. More than just a guy who's never gonna find love.

But yet here he is. Alone.

His chest ached as he his eyes started to water.

You're useless. Nothing you do will change that. Trying will only make things worst, so why bother?

His breathing picked up as his mind started to fog up his judgements even more. The aching in his chest grew until it was almost unbearable. Tears started falling as he fell seated on the ground, trying desperately to gather his thoughts. Everything hurts.

You're a waste of time and energy. No one cares enough to notice how pathetic you are. Stop trying.

Without realizing, he started sobbing. He moved away from the mirror without standing up, until his back pressed into the side of his bed. He folded his knees to his chest before burying his face, trying to shut up the voices in his head.

He's never felt more afraid and useless in his life. He just wants it to stop. He wants it end.

Why won't it end?

He cried into his knees for what felt like hours. He only raised his head when he couldn't cry anymore tears. His chest still ached. His mind was still a fogged up mess and he felt weak. Every part of his body screamed in agony. Begging for an end.

So end it.

He suddenly went blank. His eyes were glazed over as he stared blankly at his feet. He glanced to his night stand with nothing but a straight face and his fogged up judgement. Standing up, he opened his drawer and pulled out his back up piece. A small revolver. He inspected the ammunition and took out the bullets, all but one.

He sat down on his bed as he held the small handgun in his hands.

End it all.

He put the gun to the side of his head. His finger by the trigger, dangerously close. He was going to end it all. The pain, the agony, the loneliness. Everything.

But then..

"Javi" the familiar voice of his partner spoke.

He turned his head, gun still pressed to the side of his head. That was when he noticed Ryan standing at the doorway of his bedroom, a horrified expression on his face. A bag of takeout on the floor by his feet.

"Javi.." he spoke shakily "Jav put the gun down. This....this isn't what you want" he said as he slowly took a step forward.

He didn't say anything.

"Javi, please" he begged "If something is bothering you, talk to me. This won't solve anything" he reasoned "There's still so much you could do with your life" he said as he took another step forward.

His eyes began to water again as the gun stayed pressed to his head.

"Javi please, you can't do this" he begged "Beckett needs you, Castle needs you, I need you. Don't waste your life" he added.

Tears streamed down his face and all Ryan saw was pain. It hurt him to see his best friend like this. Especially now that he realizes just how bad things had gotten.

"It hurts, Kev" he finally said.

"I know" he said calmly "But we'll get through this, together. Just put the gun down" he said as he took another step forward.

He sniffled "It hurts so much" he said "She told me I couldn't possibly know how she feels. And I don't. But it still hurts" he admitted.

Ryan knew exactly who he's talking about "She was just upset. She didn't mean any of it" he reasoned.

"Maybe not" he paused, turning to look at his reflection, gun still pressed closely to his head "But I want this pain to end" he said as his grip tightened on the gun.

"No!" Ryan exclaimed.

A shot went off.

But by the time it did, Ryan had lunged towards his partner and pushed the gun to aim elsewhere. Missing him completely.

Esposito lost his grip of the gun and turned away from his partner. Unable to look him in the eyes. He was too weak to move, too tired in fact. Instead, Ryan grabbed him but the shoulder and pulled him into a tight embrace. Which he limply accepted, but desperately needed.

He began sobbing into his partners shoulder as he heard the Irishman whisper quiet assurance to him.

"I'll always be here for you" he promised.

Slowly, he wrapped his arms around his partner and relaxed against his embrace.

- - - - - - - - - -

*I don't condone suicide*

I've decided to write a-sort of-second part to this story. A what if, if you will. Still no major character death, I can't even if I wanted to, my brain won't let me. Anyway, how was it? Good? Bad? Lemme know!

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