calum
age: 13
his pov -
It was half past six when I peered into my sister's room and found her laying on her bed, staring at the wall. I followed her eyes, but found nothing but grey paint and a Lana Del Ray poster staring back at me; so I tilted my head and called after her.
"Y/N?"
She didn't turn to look at me, but with the way she'd been lately, it didn't surprise me.
"I ordered takeout," I tried again.
She just shook her head softly and stayed where she was.
It broke my heart to see her that way.
"You have to eat."
She shook her head again.
I moved to where she was and pulled her to a sitting position.
"Y/N, tell me what this is. I'm worried."
She only shrugged, taking my hand and drawing patterns into it like she always used to. It made me smile slightly, seeing her do something familiar after so long of unfamiliar actions.
"I don't know, Cal. I'm not happy. I don't want to do this anymore," she mumbled.
"You don't want to do what?" I asked, my mind growing frantic.
I shook her shoulder when she didn't respond.
"I'm just sick of life."
I shook my head, the familiar feeling of being sick running through my body.
"Don't say things like that," I breathed. "We'll get you some help, okay? Whatever it takes."
ashton
age: 15
his pov -
I heard a quiet knock on my door, looking up from my laptop, I called, "Yeah?"
"It's Y/N," came the quiet reply.
I smiled to myself.
I had been noticing how distant she had become lately, and any time that she wanted to spend out of her room without being forced was welcomed by everyone.
"It's open."
She slowly opened my door, peaking her head in and stepping carefully inside, avoiding numerous things strewn about the room.
I gave an amused glance as she made a small noise of disgust, but it faltered as I took notice of her red-rimmed eyes.
I placed my laptop aside, patting the spot on my bed next to me, but she shook her head lightly and took a seat on a chair across from me instead.
"Ash, can I tell you something?" she asked, her voice shaking a bit.
I nodded, raking my eyes over her, watching worriedly as she drummed her hand against her thigh.
"You know you can."
She took a minute before replying.
"I think I need help," she told me, looking up to see my reaction.
"With what?" I asked, suddenly feeling bemused.
"I think. . .I mean-I'm not sure, but I'm-I'm fairly sure I'm depressed," she murmured, her voice falling barely above a whisper.
