Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Depression is often assumed to be the result of identifiable causes. . . trauma, loss, chronic stress, or life altering events. And while these are valid and common triggers, there exists another form of depression that is less understood, more difficult to articulate, and often overlooked. . . the kind that arises without a clear reason.

"Here's your medication. . ." 

My eyes remained outside the window. The sky is blue. The clear road is calming. The humming birds, the barking dogs, the meowing cats are music to me. The green field is now blanketed by a light snowfall, each flake settling gently on the grass, making it shimmer faintly under the pale light. 

I closed my eyes willfully. . .  as if doing so could summon something real. Something has passed. . . something I know I can never reclaim, even if time itself longed to return to yesterday, even if time begged to rewind itself.

And for a moment, it did. I was back in that open field, breathless and laughing, running after snowflakes with outstretched hands, trying to catch them before they melted on my skin. Before all of this.

But the memory slipped through me like cold wind through broken windows. I swallowed hard. My throat burning, like I’d been holding back too many things for too long. My eyes began to blur as the memories sting badly. 

The nurse is now contacting me with a sign language which I don't know why people around me bother to use that. They clearly don't understand me. It’s not like they ever tried to know me. Not like it matters anymore. No one here recognizes me. Not my voice, not my silence. Not even the weight I carry just to stay upright. No one even bothers to witness the slow unraveling of whatever’s left of me in this institution.

They cannot contact my relatives because I have none. They cannot contact anyone I am related to, to file my documents. . . to make my diagnosis clear. So they'll identify me.

They only know my name. That’s the only part they’re allowed to touch.

I looked away, back at the wind. I heard the long deep gasp from the nurse.

"I'll come back once you're checked by the doctor, Geto. . ."

How annoying the humans are. They rely so heavily on their voices, as if constant talking alone proves their usefulness. . . as if words are the only function they know how to perform. As if they are, in the end, indeed helpful if the person didn't die. . .  even if the person lived. As if the soul had drowned beneath the shore. . . yet they still label them helpful- just because they once all stood for her. . . or for him. 

The next day, still the usual. Nothing's new. They'll serve me a tray of few slices of fruit, a small portion of rice, and rationed dishes, that even against my will, I'll eat them all. I don't wanna be skinny. It'll make me ugly.

I was served differently from others. I don’t think they knew what to do with me. I wasn’t the worst patient they’d ever had. . . but I was the one that made them worried and struggle a lot. Like I was the last person they wanted to be responsible for.

I sneaked out to steal something sharp from the private facility. I wasn’t supposed to be here wandering beyond the monitored corridors of the private facility, but desperation has a way of making silence feel sharp and necessary. Luckily, I'd been observant for so long that I'm enough knowledgeable about the patients, nurses, doctor's usual routine. I’d memorized the nurses’ shifts, the way the doctors took their coffee breaks at exactly the same time, the routes the other patients followed during their daily routines. No one noticed me much, and I used that to my advantage.

By now, they were probably all gathered in the private counseling room wherein they're in the circle to share thoughts to connect with other people. I couldn’t believe they were capable of doing that, especially after everything they’ve been through. After all the trauma, all the breakdowns, everything that landed them here in the first place.

I hate it. I hate people. I hate how dumb they are. . . how clueless they are. . . how helpless they are. 

I fucking hate it. 

"I heard there's a new patient admitted. His parents chose to abandon him. If his condition doesn't improve, and he didn't somehow manage to show a progress. . . have you thought about how you’ll manage his care in the long run?"

The blood stained my white partnered clothes. I stopped from cutting my wrist when a few doctors passed by my room. I closed my eyes, stopping myself to whimper from the sting I felt from the cut in my wrist. I watched it slowly flow down to my elbow. 

The conversation made my heart cold. The same situation made my mind drowned by painful memories. The similar event in my life made the cut that bleeds numb and pain-free.

"What is his name again?"

My heart nearly dropped to the floor as my vision blurred around the edges, a dizzying wave crashing over me. I could barely feel my legs. I could barely see the white long hallway. A cold rush surged through my veins, and my knees buckled beneath me. I could barely see how the light is steady before and now they're eaten by the darkness of my thought.

Just exact where I almost faint, my eyes dropped to the patient display name.

"Satoru. . . Gojo."

Satoru. . .  Gojo?

"Geto!" 

I couldn’t respond. My mouth wouldn’t open, as if it had locked itself shut. But I really won't. . . I don't ask for help, or even a hand. I don't ask anyone to be with me.

My hand nearly touched the wall for support, but I lost consciousness before I could steady myself. 

"Geto!" Other doctors shouted, horrified.

Most of the patient looked at me pitifully. But they're not one of my concerns anymore. Their eyes were full of emotions but but only his held me still.

Because just before the sliding door closed, his blue eyes landed on mine. . . emotionless.

The dawn. The daybreak. . . The enlightenment. 

I don't see any of it on his eyes.

Chapter Text

I never expected that I’d still be living life with this much fullness.

"Suguru. . . " Nanami’s stern expression made it clear that he had just diagnosed a serious patient.

Behind him is Haibara, busy scrolling through his phone but manage to greet a cheerful wave.

Istiffened as I watched the patients’ guardians file into the emergency room. Some of them greeted me, and I returned their kindness with a small smile and a respectful bow, my hand absently scratching the back of my head.

"Suguru! How's life? I'm glad the director didn't kick you out." Haibara giggled, still focused on his phone.

I went straight to the vending machine, searching for something to drink.

I shook my head as I pressed the button for a cola on the vending machine. Nanami shook his head understandably, since his usual go-to drinks are hard liquor and beer. I glanced at Haibara, still scrolling through his phone like an idiot. He doesn’t like sugary drinks, so I figured I wouldn’t bother picking one for him.

All of us went to the quiet lounging area.

I rested my head and eased the stiffness in my neck. Twelve consecutive hours on duty had taken a significant toll. It was a heavy-duty shift I had just pulled off. This one hour was all I had to eat my packaged bento, a small celebration of a rare break. Most of the time, I don’t even get a chance to grab a simple Subway burger or sip iced coffee to stay awake during the long hours. This is especially true at night, when urgent emergencies often come in waves.

"Good. . ." I simply replied.

"What the hell happened when you vanished?" Nanami asked.

I watched my empty cola.

"Nothing. . ."

Haibara sank into the lounge Nanami crouched down, searching for a pillow while massaging his furrowed forehead. Haibara’s own brow tightened as he watched Nanami’s movements. After a moment, he put down his phone and turned his attention toward him.

"I heard you went to the children's orphanage. . ."

I nodded.

"Yeah. I'm donating something. . . uh. . ."

He nodded. Haibara's still doing the thing. His eyes landed on mine.

“Didn’t know you’re into such a thing. We could’ve come.”

“I’m not allowed. I’m not Christian.”

“What a full of crap, Christian or not, if you have a heart, you’ll go. It’s not a church, it’s an orphanage.”

Haibara laughed at Nanami’s mockery.

After an hour break, my duty continued. Haibara waved his hands on us as he slowly stepped up to catch up in his assigned area. Nanami and I went to the emergency area, accepting admitted patients. After a long overdue day, we both had our way downtown to our apartment, and presumably tomorrow will be a hectic to deal.

I was on-call when Nanami contacted me.

Nanami was already inside, standing stiffly beside the bed. His back straight, clipboard in one hand. He was sitting with the boy who refused to speak for the past couple of days.

His body was still, as if he had already given up. His left forearm had been amputated below the elbow. The bandage was neat, but the absence was noticeable. He looked miserable, too. His right hand lay limp by his side, fingers twitching now.

Nanami glanced at me as I enter.

“You’re late.”

“Didn’t realize it was a scheduled sermon,” I said, stepping in and closing the sliding door behind me. “What’s the gospel today?”

He dismissed me with his silence.

I leaned against the wall near the bed. My eyes went to the boy who was in the bend. The boy’s awake but barely moves. His eyes were on the white ceiling.

My heart froze.

“I take it he’s not one of your miracles?” I said, voice low. “He hasn’t spoken much?”

“Not since yesterday,” Nanami said. “He refused to take his medication and threw away every meal that was served for him. We’re considering a feeding tube.”

“Wow, this boy has gthe uts to serve the death now.”

Nanami glared at me.

I tilted my head and shrugged. “And his family?”

“They left.”

I let a bitter smile touched my lips.

“Of course they did, how characteristically human. Present in anticipation of recovery, absent at the first sign of permanence.”

Nanami’s grip on the clipboard tightened, just a little. “Claimed they weren’t prepared for this. Assumed he’d be fine. One visit after the operation, then nothing.”

I clapped my hands.

Same situation, different timeline.

“What a noble humanity. . . So quick to run when there's no more benefit to staying. Always the first to vanish when things get inconvenient.”

Nanami finally looked at me. “He was working two jobs before the accident. Supporting his mother and little sister. Things went wrong—"

“And now he’s a financial sinkhole. Guess affection expires when the income stream dries up. Hard to love someone who can’t pay their way, isn’t it?"

Nanami stood up and faced me.

“Why are you here, Suguru? You hate this kind of case.”

"They’re all the same to me," I said flatly. "But this one doesn’t waste energy on false hope. That makes him easier to tolerate.”

Nanami’s eyes were cold. “You prefer the ones who are ready to die.”

I shrugged.

“Because they understand something you don’t.”

“And what’s that?”

“That not all lives are meant to be saved.”

He sighs. I put both of my hands in my pockets.

“I still think he has a chance,” Nanami said after a beat.

I scoffed at his hopeful thoughts.

“A chance for what?” I asked. “For a life of daily reminders that he’s now defective and unwanted? Waking up in a body that doesn't work, knowing the people who once relied on you don’t even care if you exist? His body is broken, and the people who were meant to love him have already moved on.”

I uncontrollably scoffed bitterly. Memories are at the edge of my mind.

“Sounds like something worth waking up for.”

“The boy can hear you. . .” He whispered sorrowfully. “I’ve seen worse. I’ve seen people with less find a way back.”

“You wish.”

I walked closer to the bed. The boy’s eyes flicked to mine for a second. I saw the hollow gleam in him.

“What’s your name?” I asked.

“Koji. . .” Answer by Nanami.

“You’re the one I’m asking now---”

“I wanted to die. . .” His unconsciousness cut me off.

He gained my interest.

Nanami set the clipboard down. “You think that’s the only option?”

“They left because I was just going to drain them. That I can’t work anymore. That I can’t provide. That I’ll empty their pockets for endless therapies and search for prosthetics. For the bills. They can’t provide that. . . so they left. So, what am I even supposed to do? Observing my situation, I know I won’t be able to wipe even my ass ever again.”

His emotionless eyes felt so familiar. . . as the way I could still recall what I was before.

“You’ll learn.”

Nanami’s optimism had always sounded more like duty than faith. I sneered. Just what a load of crap.

\

“You know,” I said to Koji, stepping closer, “. . . people are disgustingly good at leaving. It’s the one thing they never need training for. But since you’re here, that’s the best revenge you could’ve had. That will piss them off more than you think.”

The boy paid attention to me. I smirked.

“Live just to spite them,” I said as encouragingly as I could tell. “Survival is a middle finger to them.”

“That’s your encouragement?” Nanami asked, the end of his lips in the fall of beaming.

I stepped back. The boy’s eyes lingered on mine. I shot up my brow at him, and he simply looked away and cleared his throat.

“It’s more honest than yours.” I tapped his shoulders. “I’ll go now. Get yourself a drink.”

I was about to go outside when a nurse called me. My eyes narrowed as she approached me nonchalantly, but the worry in her eyes was visible.

“Geto-san, someone’s trying to contact you, but you’re not answering.” She said, gasping.

My brow rose.

“He said he’s your doctor. . .”

“Huh?”

“Geto-san,” she said. “He’s in your office.”

“You let him in?”

She nervously looked at me. I shook my head, dismayed.

I barged into my office in a beat. As expected, he was sitting in my swivel chair, his elbow resting on the table, chin propped on his palm, eyes glinting as they met mine.

But before he could’ve noticed my entrance, his playful tone toward the nurse caught me. What the hell? They think my

“After this little chat with Geto, I’ll make sure to head straight to your place.” He added a playful wink.

“This is a private premises, not used for some flirtatious antics you disguise with that provocative body of yours.”

I could still see how his blue eyes turned to me despite his round glasses with blue-colored lenses. His shaved undercut layered white hair was disheveled, so different from my neatly combed black hair, slicked back to maintain a clean, polished look.

My eyes flicked to the nameplate.

Satoru Gojo

Board Certified Psychologist

Satoru Gojo. . . ? It tickled something in my memory. And a psychologist. . .

“Oh. . . Suguru-san!” He waved his outstretched right hand to me, like we’re close. How dare this little shit call me confidently?

My brow furrowed, stepping forward intimidatingly. But his outstretched smile says he’s not intimidated otherwise. 

His smirk is annoying. . . like he was offering a fist fight.

“I'm afraid that's not permitted under current policy,” I stated, domineering.

“That’s why I’m asking her out after her duties. . .”

"Gojo, snap out of it and make it fast.” The young lady in a white clinical uniform boredly said. A psychiatrist.

"Aw. . . Shoko-chan’s impatient, eh?" He said, still eyeing me.

“Get out of my office.”

This is driving me nuts!

I heard a little teasing from the girl named Shoko.

"What a day," he said cockily.

He stopped me from standing up, his gaze locking onto mine with quiet amusement. He purposely licked his lower lip, knowing exactly what he was doing.

I clenched my jaw.

"Weren’t you taught how to give a proper greeting?”

His eyes didn’t give anything away, but they didn’t shut anything out, either. They lingered, just long enough to feel deliberate. Familiar in a way I couldn’t place, and yet distant enough to keep me uncertain.

“You’ll wave a hand or bow. . .” He pouted his lips. “Not barge. You greet them well.”

He quietly took a few steps to approach me. My eyes widened when he moved his face closer to the side of my cheeks, enough to whisper a secret so no one could ever hear it. His lips almost touched the back of my ears when he whispered.

I gritted my teeth.

“Suguru Geto, 27, lives in Tokyo, escaped from a mental health institution a decade.”

It made my brow furrow.

“Diagnosed with MDD.” He added.

Before. . .

“I don’t know what you’re talking about--”

“His family abandoned him right after his diagnosis, labeling him a burden and using it as an excuse to escape their responsibilities.”

A flicker of anger rose in me the moment I heard it. Before I could think twice, my hand shot out and grabbed his collar, tension tightening my grip as if my body was bracing to throw a punch.

He clenched his jaw, still smirking. Don’t you just fucking dare mention it. . .

"What makes you think you can fix me when you couldn’t even fix yourself? You're just a ruin pretending to rebuild someone else.”

Gojo’s lip parted. It seems like I have reached and pulled an inch of the trigger. But when a smirk formed on his lips, my heart almost fell.

What the hell. . .

"Interesting," his hoarse, cold tone shot back.

“I don’t think you’ll be much help to anyone if you already see yourself as a burden,” I added.

My fist itched before I let it go slowly, as if I was doing him a favor. Because apparently, restraint counts as maturity these days. He fixed his clinical gown and watched me intently.

“We’ve met before. . . didn’t we?” His raspy tone raised my brows.

I buried them years ago. I buried those drowning memories years ago. And no matter how visible the damage is, I won’t give them the satisfaction of killing me twice.

I remember how I fainted the first time I heard his diagnosis and condition. . . the same one I have. I just couldn’t believe how a psychologist. . . of all people. The fact that he endured what I did, while I remained frozen. I couldn’t even take a single step to run from mine.

“Too bad you’re as helpless as I,” I added fuel.

But when I was about to turn my gaze away, his low baritone echoed like an alarm in my ears.

I stepped back when he tried to get closer. I’m glaring so bad, as if my eyes were sharp enough to kill him.

"If I have to rip apart every thread that's keeping you here just to take you with me, then I’d do it. I'd do everything in a heartbeat." He whispered, raspy.

A chuckle escaped from his mouth, eyes still on me.

“What do you mean---”

“Your demons are still up into your tiny little head, hmm. . . Suguru?”

“Fuck off.” I gritted my teeth.

He laughed teasingly.

“Don’t be too pissed, you still have remaining days to feel them.”

My brow narrowed.

He smirked.

“I’ll see you, Suguru.”