[CONTENTID3]Depression In Five Stages[/CONTENTID3]

[CONTENTID2]Acceptance[/CONTENTID2]

[CONTENTID1]

Sown in tears, the first few sprouts of the season had already begun under the watchful eye of Mir. So much empty time in everyday had given way to a surprising discovery of a green thumb. A talent, seemingly, for every seed he touched blossomed and bloomed at a faster rate than even his planting instructions promised. And he somehow doubted it was the thin, rocky, clay like soil the cottage was situated on.

Or perhaps it was because even the plants realized Mir needed this. Something to care for, to watch over as little sparks of life made their way in the world. Cupping a waxy red tulip in his palm, revived from a near-dead state from his careful ministrations, he gently sniffed. Finding solace in the light scent, he sighed, turning to plant the seeds that would give rise to rosy crimson tomatoes.

It was moments like this he could almost forget, forget about everything. The existence of anything beyond himself, and these tiny growing plants. He had been crying so hard when he’d taken his first step out, desperate to feel a ray of unblocked light upon his face. The tears had dripped into the soil as he’d planted the first of what would be many, unable to stop this newest obsession. Brocolli, the little green shoots already unfurling leaves. He hated it, but Joon hadn’t.

When he was here, playing make-believe farmer, he could almost believe that Joon was just inside, waiting for him. Or about to come down the road, wrap Mir in his arms. Kiss him senseless because five minutes apart had been just all too much. Here, with his plants, he was closest to Joon. Acceptance, the final stage of his depression. He began to stand, but a pain in his chest ripped through him and he gasped, stumbling, falling forward until --

A pair of arms slipped about his waist and Mir squeaked in surprise and terror. He had failed to consider that he was living virtually unprotected in the middle of nowhere – but what did it matter? Some thief had come for valuables he didn’t possess, and would kill him. That wouldn’t be so bad, to at last have that one final issue taken care of. All this dreaming of being with Joon, maybe he would be now. Whether above or below for his war crimes, he didn’t care, just together. His final plea.

But the other didn’t produce a knife from