It wasn't the first time that Castiel had thought about killing himself, it wasn't even the second or the fifth or the twentieth. But usually it was a fleeting thought, something along the lines of 'Oh my god, I will just kill myself if I don't pass this test' that he didn't really mean and he would forget about almost as soon as he was reassured by his dad over the phone or one of his few friends that he studied enough and put so much effort into school that he had nothing to worry about.

When he dreamt about doing it, it was always the same dream. Castiel was standing on the railing of the Brooklyn Bridge, a lucid part that remembered the details when he woke up would provide that he was probably on his way either to or from school since his faded, vintage Schwinn was always leaned up near where he was standing and the only places he went anymore seemed to be the NYU campus and his apartment. Someone always stopped him, someone who cared. One of his old therapists once said that if you had one person who you could think of to live for then you really didn't want to kill yourself.

Usually in his dreams it was his dad or one of his siblings talking him down from the edge. Chuck fretting and worrying over his son, running his hands through his hair in that way that Castiel knew he had picked up from his dad, Gabriel using snarky comments ("What about your bike, Cassie? I wanted that bike.") and calling him a moron in that way that everyone close to his older brother knew meant he cared, Michael being stern in a way their father never could as he told him to get down or he would make sure the reference letters that Castiel wanted for grad school never made it to the admissions offices, Anna asking him softly and gently to think about what he was doing with those big, innocent eyes she had that got her everything she wanted.

Every now and then it would be Meg or Balthazar, his friends always together and unknowingly flaunting their perfect relationship in front of him, begging him to reconsider because it was really hard to find a roommate who wasn't a totally weirdo junkie in Brooklyn these days.

But this time, when he woke up from the dream he couldn't remember who it had been to talk him down and as he sat on the balcony of his apartment watching the sun rise over the jumbled, messy city skyline, drinking coffee and toeing at Meg's discarded cigarette butts, Castiel realized that this time there hadn't been anyone there to stop him. That this time the dream had ended with him actually hitting the steel gray, icy water of the East River and sinking, pockets full of something heavy to weigh him down even though he wasn't a very good swimmer to begin with. He had read somewhere once, probably for a paper or something that drowning was the most peaceful way to die so that's what he had always imagined doing.

After realizing that, Castiel got up, went about his normal routine like it was just another day. Like he was going up to campus to meet his GRE study group or to do some homework at the coffee shop near the library that was always quiet on the Sunday mornings after Meg stayed over. He liked to leave early on those days because it was weird for him to see the other girl walking around his and Balthazar's apartment in just the other man's V-neck shirts that were too large for her, but not large enough to provide full coverage when she would stretch up on tiptoe to reach the coffee mugs they kept on the top shelves in the cabinet.

Once he had seen a glimpse of smooth rounded flesh and red lacy material before the woman had spun around to snatch up the coffee pot, smiling cheerily at him like he hadn't just suddenly gotten the most lightening fast erection of his life. Ever since then he had made a point to be out of the apartment long before Meg or Balthazar woke up and if the pair noticed his absence then they either appreciated the fact that he gave them their privacy or they didn't care what he was doing.

He tossed his messenger bag which was heavy with half-written essays and blank applications for summer internships over his shoulder, pulled up the sleeves of his cardigan that he had decided to wear since the March weather was still nippy and took one last look around his apartment before setting off. Almost four years in the dwelling and it still felt like it belonged more to Balthazar than it did him and once during a party, someone had asked him who the enigmatic Brit's lucky roommate was and hadn't seemed very convinced when Castiel replied that he was it. Most people looked supremely unimpressed when they met him, especially when they learned who his family was and how little he had done to earn the name that had been given to him when he was adopted at age two.

Castiel took his normal route towards the school, cutting down the side streets and back alleys of DUMBO in order to reach the Brooklyn Bridge and the pedestrian walkway that spanned the length of the metal structure. As he rode, he wondered if anyone would miss him and how long it would take for Balthazar to notice that he was gone. It would probably take them running out of tea or milk or something since the foreigner didn't like to go grocery shopping, but Castiel had just gone a couple of days before so it would still probably take his closest friend a while to piece together what had happened.

He stopped in the middle of the bridge, at the spot where the water ran the swiftest and the deepest and just looked for a couple of minutes as he tried to sort out his feelings. But that was another part of the problem, besides the insomnia and the stress and the nausea and the constant crushing pressure of all of his responsibilities, Castiel hadn't felt much of anything lately. It was like he was covered in a heavy, wet blanket that just muffled the world and all of its sensations, the good and the bad until they all just bled together into one great big pile of grayish mush.

Even sitting with Meg pressed close against him last night as they had watched a movie on the couch, waiting for Balthazar to get home from a late seminar that he had, hadn't filled him with the usual thrill he got from being close to the small, assertive brunette. It had just left him feeling cold and empty and awkwardly hard, he hoped that was a good sign. People who were dead inside didn't get boners still, right?

His phone rang from inside his pocket, trumpeting out 'Paperback Writer' by The Beatles and letting him know without looking that it was his dad calling him. Weird, Chuck normally wasn't up this early on Sundays, he used to bat away Castiel's mom on mornings when she was trying to rouse the older man to go to church, saying if God wanted him to get up then he needed to come down and drag him out of bed himself.

Castiel pulled it out, steeling himself for an awkward, cryptic goodbye to his father that could act as his suicide note since he hadn't thought about leaving one behind until just now.

"Hello?" the younger man answered, pushing his glasses back up his nose as he continued to look down at the white-capped water rushing by underneath his feet.

"Castiel? Are you okay?" Chuck's voice was worried and confused and for a second his youngest son assumed that maybe something had happened with his little sister, Anna. Maybe she had twisted an ankle or something and would have to sit out the end of the year production that her ballet school put on.

"Yea, dad," he replied looking up at the horizon where he could see the Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island, the ferries already making the endless circuit between the tourist sites despite the early hour. "I'm fine. What's going on?'

"Your mother was worried about you," his father explained, making Castiel's heart squeeze painfully in his chest. "I told her I would call to check on you, she says she misses you."

Castiel cleared his throat, turning his back against the railing so that he faced the pedestrian walkway that he was riding on. His gaze fell on the love locks that were hooked to the suspension cables and he tried not to think about how Meg and Balthazar had put their own lock on the bridge last year when they all had been riding back from a concert, stopping and kissing in the middle of the bridge while he shuffled his feet and tried to fight back the swell of jealousy he felt. The one his mom and dad had put on when they were dating had been cut off by the city years ago and the idea to do it had been his before he let it slip to Balth how romantic and grand he thought the whole gesture was.

"Mom's dead, dad." Castiel choked out, hoping that Gabriel would burst into the call right about now, laughing over how easy it was to pull one over on him.

"I know that, son." Chuck groused at him through the phone, sounding insulted that his son had felt the need to remind him. "But I still talk to her and she talks back. The way that woman carries on sometimes, you'd think someone was about to die or something. Anyway, I told her I'd call. She wanted me to tell you that we all love you and to keep riding, you'll know when to stop."

"Keep riding?" Castiel asked, his skin prickling with goosebumps.

"Yea, are you on a horse or something? Maybe she means you should take a vacation to a ranch. You know she always loved horses. When does spring break start anyway, isn't that coming up? "

"Uh," the younger boy searched for something he could say to his father, this conversation was just too weird to be real; he had to still be dreaming. "Yea, spring break is this next week, dad. I think I may be too busy to take a vacation, y'know papers and stuff. I have to go, though. I was just about to do something before you called."

"Of course, all of my brilliant children are just too busy to talk to their tottering old dad. At least I still have Anna trapped for another year before she abandons me too."

"I love you, dad." Castiel blurted, turning back to the water and hefting his heavy bag onto his shoulder. "You and mom, you know that right?"

"Of course we do, champ. It would just be nice to get a phone call every now and then. You want me to pass the message on to your sister too?"

"Yea, her and Gabe and Mike. Tell them all that I love them. I gotta go now, dad."

"Alright, Castiel. Call me if you need any help with those papers, I'll give you some big fancy writer words to use. Bye, kiddo."

"Goodbye, dad." Castiel said softly as he disconnected the call.

He watched the water for a little bit longer, absently stroking the cracked screen on his phone and wondering if this was the right thing to do. Everything was just so overwhelming and the GRE was looming over him like this giant tidal wave that was going to crush him. It was this intense pressure on his chest that made it hard for him to breathe or eat or swallow. He had lost weight over the course of the last year and even though Meg joked, saying that sallow was a good look for him Castiel didn't know how much longer he could go without sleeping before exhaustion alone made him keel over.

It was the guilt that got to him and made him move, always the guilt. Ever since his mother had died it had come to dictate his every move, dominating his decisions of what he should do with his life and making him question every single thought that he had for the last year. It had never been as hard when she was still alive, telling him that he was special no matter what he did and saying that he didn't have to prove anything to anyone by running himself ragged in an effort to compete with his siblings' successes.

He got back on his bike and rode, going back the way he came over the bridge and down the bike lanes. Castiel didn't know where he was going, but something made him trust that he would know when to stop, just like his dad had said he would. He didn't really believe that the advice had come from his mom, his parents had shared a very profound bond, but Castiel didn't think it went much further than them being able to finish each others' sentences or read the other's moods. It certainly didn't extend to being able to communicate after death, no matter how long they had been together.

Castiel meandered through Hillside Park, passing by the playground where mom's were bringing out their excited children, little half-formed versions of himself and his siblings and his friends that hadn't been jaded by everything that life threw at them yet. He missed the days when he was a kid and life had been so blissfully ignorant and easy, back before school and dating and growing up became the questions that everyone asked him about, instead of just "How old are you, sweetie?"

After about fifteen minutes of riding aimlessly, he stopped his bike with a screech. The melody that he always had going in his head had reached a crescendo, something that hadn't happened with the music he made up as he rode in a very long time. Back before he had started obsessing over all of the choices he had made in his life thus far, comparing his failings against the triumphs of everyone else in his family and Balthazar who was pre-med.

Doctors were so much cooler than accountants, no one ever listened after he said something about math, they just looked at him like he was speaking a foreign language. Castiel even bored himself sometimes with it all, most of the time he just guessed on his final answers and got lucky. This last semester, his luck had started to run out.

The music was swirling, reaching a cacophonous state in his head as he locked up his bike at the bike rack and made his way towards the sliding glass doors of the emergency room. Long Island College Hospital was quintessentially Brooklyn in its appearance, all red brick and iron gates, imposing and professional without being gaudy like the shiny hospitals in Manhattan, those buildings looked like something designed by Frank Lloyd Wright with crazy angles and lots of brushed steel and glass.

He strode up to the reception desk where a bored looking brunette girl was chatting idly on the phone and filing her nails.

"So I just told her, girl you deserve better than that loser. Dude's a total scrub. You don't need a man to tell you how to live your life."

Castiel didn't know how to interrupt without being rude so he just resigned himself to standing there until she noticed him, his stomach clenching anxiously as he bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from screaming. After about ten minutes of being ignored he leaned farther over the desk so that he could make out the name on the girl's name tag.

"Excuse me? Krissy is it?" He said softly, giving her a little wave and a nonexistent smile in an effort to get her attention.

"Hold on," the girl said with a sigh into the phone, rolling her eyes at something the other person said. "Yea, I know. How can I help you sir?"

"Um, yes." Castiel said fidgeting with his glasses that had started slipping off his face as he broke out in one of the unexpected cold sweats he had started experiencing over the last couple of weeks. "I uh…I want to kill myself."