A/N: So this just...happened. I really just...yeah. Not much to explain. But sometimes it's really really hard to grasp the fact that Kendall Schmidt, a man I love SO much I can't possibly explain, doesn't even know my name. Yeah yeah, so James knows my name and has said it.
But.
But these men are my idols, the ones who keep me going, the ones who help me be proud of who I am. And I just wish I could thank them for that.
BUT I CAN'T. So I write :)
And I pretend that I know them.
Anyway... I will always love them, even when they grow up and start families and move on with their lives.
I just...sometimes it's hard to feel like there's really a guy out there for me. (insert mental AW) "The one". Like hell. Where is he? I don't really know. I wish I did.
Anyway, it's hard to feel appreciated.
So for those of you who don't, here it is. A one shot dedicated to all of you who don't feel appreciated. You are. And you're loved.
If you made it through that, ^ I applaud you XD Now FINALLY, on with the one shot!
Because you don't appreciate me, I thought angrily as I ripped open a new packet of razors.
Because you don't understand who I am, I yelled inside my head as I pulled a razor out.
Because you don't care to try. I threw the razor against the wall and it snapped. A satisfied grin grew on my face as I picked up the blade.
Just one, I promised myself. Just one.
Ha. Isn't that what I say everytime?
The real question is: Do I even care anymore?
And the answer...No. I don't. I really, truly don't. Because who cares about me?
No one.
I pressed the blade to an old cut that was slowly fading away and hissed at the cool sensation on my burning skin.
Just one.
Just one.
Just one.
Like a chant, I've built myself up. Just one. It's not a big deal.
I'm not that emo freak that they call me.
I'm capable of love, I really am. I mean, I believe I am.
But nobody cares to try and love me.
The bathroom door slammed open and my boyfriend of five years stood in the doorway, panting. "Lana, what are you doing?"
"Just go away, Ken!" I shouted back at him. "I don't need you here!"
"Clearly you do. What are you thinking?"
"I'm thinking that I'm done with everything. With being the wounded dog that everyone likes to kick to feel good about themselves. I'm just done."
I pressed the blade deeper into my skin and a single drop of blood leaked out. "You wanna stay here and watch?" I shouted at him.
"I'm not letting you do this to yourself," he growled. "Honey, give me the blade."
"No," I shook my head. "No, this is the only thing that helps."
"No, it's your safety net. I never...I never thought about what you were doing when you would leave. It never occurred to me that you would do this. But this time-"
"This time what?" I demanded. "You finally heard? You finally heard what they say about me?"
"Lana..."
I lifted my head up and stared at him. "I'm a freak, Kendall. A depressed, useless, emotional freak. I'm only bringing you down. You don't need me. Just go."
"I'm not leaving you. We can talk through this and-"
"No we can't!" I shouted, pressing it even deeper into my skin and biting my lip at the pain.
I know it will feel better soon.
It will all be better soon.
"NO STOP!"
"Walk away," I insisted. "Tell them I jumped or something. They'll be happy."
"No, baby, no."
"Stop it!" I shrieked. "Don't call me baby! You don't know who I am!" I lifted my hand that was holding the blade and pointed an accusatory finger at him. Kendall took the chance to swat at my hand, and the blade went flying into the mirror, cracking it. "LOOK AT WHAT YOU'VE DONE!" I roared.
"No, look at what you've done," he said gently, lifting my arm.
I gritted my teeth and turned my head away. "Lana, look," he insisted.
"No," I refused.
He would make me give in. Make me keep fighting, keep trying.
I'm just tired. So, so tired.
"I wondered why you stopped playing volleyball," he said softly.
"It's because I'm not good at it," I whispered.
"Not good?" he laughed. "You have offers from so many different college teams!"
"That means nothing," I cried. "I'm a failure in life. Ask anyone!"
"Who the fuck is anyone?" Kendall asked sincerely. "Your family?"
"That's not a family," I growled, yanking my hand out of his. "Just leave me alone, Kendall."
"Never," he whispered. "I will never ever leave you alone again. I'm sorry I couldn't take you on tour. I'm sorry I left you at home to deal with them. I'm sorry I-"
"Just stop it!" I yelled, smacking my hands into his chest and pushing him backwards. "You have nothing to apologize for. You're so goddamn perfect, that's a whole other problem!"
"First of all, I'm not perfect and you damn well know that. And what do you mean that's a problem?"
"Before you showed up," I sighed moving to our bedroom and sitting down on the bed, "I was always compared to my older sisters. They were perfect. I was...well, I was me. Never good enough. And then I found you. Or you found me. And it was ok for a while. I think that was the first and only time in my life my mother complimented me. She said, and I quote, 'At least you have good taste in men'. Then it became an onslaught of insults, about how I wasn't good enough for you. I had to fight with my sisters to keep you. Do you know that? They insisted that they were prettier, better, more loving...all this shit and that you would love them more. And- And I believed them."
"Lana, I could never love someone more than I love you. And I really mean that."
"You just- You don't understand Kenda-"
"No, you don't understand. I- I want you to see something. I was waiting till your birthday, but you really need to see this now."
"Ken, I don't want to-"
"Be quiet. Just look."
Kendall went into our closet and rummaged around until he found what he was looking for. He pulled out what appeared to be an old book or...picture album?
He set it down in my lap and gave me a reassuring nod. "The um, the cover's not done yet," he shrugged. "I haven't gotten much time to work on it."
I flipped it open and found a picture of our first date, when we were thirteen. "I had to sneak out to go with you," I murmured, rubbing the old photograph. "I remember that."
"Yeah?" he laughed. "It was pretty funny watching you climb out your window. A regular Rapunzel."
"Shut up," I smiled, even allowing myself a little giggle.
I continued thumbing through the pages, going over all our memories.
"Five amazing years, Lana," Kendall said as he took the book back. "Five years with my love. I just wish I had known you were doing this earlier. How long has this been going on for?"
"Since a month before you left for tour," I mumbled.
"I can't believe I didn't know," he shook his head sadly. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart."
"I used to um, I used to sneak out of the house at night when I was younger. I'd go to one of those club kinda places where they let you shoot bottles to get anger out. It felt good. Really, really good. And then like six months back, my sister said something about me being an emo who probably cuts and...yeah. That's how it started."
"Bunch of bitches," he spat angrily.
"Why are you doing this?" I asked, crossing my arms and going to the window. "I was trying to fix it for everyone. Without me, your lives would be so much easier."
"Lana, baby, please." Kendall walked over and stood beside me, staring out the window. He gently took my hand and lifted it to his chest so I could feel his heartbeat. "Do you feel that, baby? That's all you need. Us, together. I love you and I can't live without you. You're my purpose. Live for me. Be my girl."
"No, I-"
Kendall held my hand tighter against his chest. "You are my purpose. This heart right here- this heart beats for you."