"I leave you with photographs, pictures of trickery, stains on the carpet, and stains on the scenery. Songs about happiness murmured in dreams, when we both of us knew how the ending would be." - The Cure, 'Disintegration'.

Reno fiddled with the pistol in his hand. One bullet in the chamber. Click-click-click. He pointed the gun to his head. Eyes shut tightly, he squeezed the trigger.

Nothing.

"Fuck!"

He spun the cylinder again, shoving the gun to his temple - and nothing, still.

He tossed the pistol beside him on the bed with a cry of anger and grabbed his bottle of vodka. He stumbled to the bathroom, the vodka swishing in the bottle with his every movement. He took a swig and set the bottle on the back of the toilet. He looked at himself in the mirror: a shadow of his former self stared back at him. He could no longer see himself, really. The day that he had left home as a depressed 17-year old, he'd ended up on the streets, begging for food - and eventually, begging for drugs to escape his stark reality. He'd worked his way up: he got sober, got an apartment and a job. Now, at age 21, he was off of the wagon again. Hell, he'd destroyed the fucking wagon.

Depression was almost always forefront in his mind in his every day life, morning and night. Alcohol became a mainstay in his life again, and eventually he lost his job because of it. Pills followed, and then he was back on the blow. Now, the night found him playing Russian Roulette with a pistol he'd lifted from a pawn show earlier that day.

He was fucking angry. He was over it and tired of trying. His entire life had been a waste of fucking time. He'd failed at life, failed at everything. Now he was failing at offing himself - and that pissed him off even more.

He spit at his reflection in the mirror and yanked open the medicine cabinet door tucked behind it. A plethora of pill bottles and various medicinal syrups lined the small shelves inside. He grabbed a bottle of sedatives and slammed the door shut. Retrieving the vodka bottle, he made his way back to his bed and sat down. Tucking the pistol underneath his mattress, he settled onto the comforter and popped the top on the unlabeled pill bottle. He poured the white Benzodiazepine pills into a large pile and tossed the bottle to the side. Reno pushed them around with his finger, wondering just how many he'd have to take to end it all.

"Three mils a pop... five? Six? Twenty?"

Reno cupped one of the pills in his hand and launched it into the air, catching it on his tongue. He took a long drink of vodka and tossed his head back, swallowing everything in one gulp. A third pill followed the second. Three more went into his belly at once. He laughed to himself and shook his head, thinking to himself that no one was going to find him for a very long time. No one gave a shit. He scooped five more into his hand and tossed them into his mouth, chasing them with the vodka. Another five, then two.

As he was picking up another pill, his phone rang.

"Are you fucking kiddin' me?" Reno hissed. He placed the pill to his lips, opened his mouth to deliver it - and the phone rang again.

"God-fucking-damn-it!"

He clenched the pill in his fist and stood up from the bed. Grabbing the phone off of the receiver, his brow furrowed as he read the screen.

"Who the fuck is this?"

He clicked the phone on, staying silent. He could hear someone breathing quietly on the other line, and he rolled his eyes impatiently. Suddenly, the mysterious caller began to speak.

"Hello? Are you there?"

Reno raised an eyebrow. The voice was obviously very male, but the man was soft-spoken and seemed shy. "Who is this?' he asked.

"This is Cloud. Cloud Strife, remember? I met you at the club the other night."

"Nope, doesn't ring a bell. You've got the wrong number, yo," Reno said in an agitated tone. He was ready to get the show on the road and blow this joint - and this Cloud Strife character was interrupting him.

"Your name is Reno, yeah? You don't remember me?" Cloud said. "We did some lines downtown at Castle the other night and you gave me your number. Told me to call if I ever wanted to hang out."

Reno laughed. It was a small snicker that turned into a rolling laughter that echoed off of the walls of his sparse apartment. "Oh my God, dude. We did blow together, and you expect me to remember anything from that night?" He laughed until he was leaning against the wall, propping himself up. He vaguely recalled tripping on a handful of Benzos and going downtown a few nights ago... but the man on the telephone and the events he was speaking of? It sounded like a fairy-tale to him.

"I don't get what's so funny," Cloud said. "I'm telling you the truth. Otherwise, how'd I get your number? How in the hell would I even know your name?"

"Fuck if I know, Cloud, but I really need to go. I'm... in the middle of something important," Reno said, his laughter tapering off.

"What are you doing tonight? I wanna hang out," Cloud replied.

"I don't wanna talk about it, yo."

Silence filled both sides of the telephone line. The room began to spin. Reno moaned, then gagged. He gripped the phone and dropped the pill from his hand as he rushed to the toilet and vomited into it. He could hear the blood rushing in his head, and the faint noise of Cloud calling out his name as the phone dropped to the tiled floor. The room began to turn dark. He slid down sideways onto the floor and lay there, hearing the echo of the blood in his head - and Cloud.

"I'm coming over, Reno. I'm going to track your number so I can get your address. Just hang on!"

Reno closed his eyes. "Goddamn it, don't come and fuckin' try to save me. I ain't worth savin'!" he screamed inside his head. Then all was quiet, and Reno took his last breath.

Floating. Free. He was being lifted and carried, and voices surrounded him from all sides.

"Reno! Reno, it's Cloud! Can you hear me? You're gonna be okay, friend!"

He couldn't move, couldn't open his eyes. Was he finally fucking dead? Didn't seem like it. Someone was poking and prodding him. The sound of doors slamming; a siren.

God-fucking-damn-it. I'm still alive.