Angst. Also, I have no ducking clue how suicide hotline people are trained to respond. It will not be very accurate.

"Hello, this is-"

"Hello! Is this the Suicide Prevention hotline?"

Rude. Chuuya supposed that he couldn't get too mad though, he did want to help, no matter how much of a jerk they initially were. Though this caller seemed awfully cheerful, too cheerful, perhaps.

"Yes, how can I help you?"

The other man laughed airily. "Well, in suicidal aren't I? Why else would I be calling?" He chuckled deeply. "I'm pretty sure I haven't dialed the wrong number~"

Oh boy, this wasn't a prank call was it? Lord, spare him. "No sir, this is the suicide hotline, how can I help, sir?"

It irked him to think that there was a slight possibility he was being so damn polite and restraining himself for an idiot that calls to waste the hotline's time when he could be helping someone who's actually in need!

"My, aren't you formal and polite," The man on the other side of the phone heaved a huge, long, big, suffering sigh. "My girlfriend left me. I can't believe she cheated on me, that bastard. I loved her, she was the only light in the sea of darkness."

A forlorn silence stretched out as Chuuya frantically tried to come up with a response.

"I'm really sorry for that, sir. She must have been a wonderful woman and I'm sorry that it happened."

Shit. Shit. Shit.

"I'm going to overdose tonight. You can't convince me otherwise."

Oh FU-

"Sir, please, reconsider, we can talk through this. I'm here to listen. Please, let me help you."

Silence stretched out. In that silence he could feel nothing but dread, dread at what that man might be doing to himself.

"Please! Don't do it, I will do my best to do whatever will help you!"

A wheeze.

"Mister?"

No reply, only the lonely beep beep beep of a hung up phone.