Jimmy knew that he never asked him for anything, really. All the others were practically banging down his door, begging to him, "Jimmy, I need help with this. Jimmy, I need help with that. Jimmy, Jimmy, Jimmy-"

But he never asked Jimmy for help. He just wanted a friend.

He probably didn't even realize just how grateful Jimmy was for that. Fuck if Jimmy could ever show that appreciation though. After all, he had learned the hard way to never show emotion besides annoyance and anger, because all it did was bite you in the ass in the end.

Watching him get picked on, get ignored, get stepped all over, made him sick. It reminded Jimmy of times before; times when he didn't know how to go about defending himself, times that he wasn't sure were easier than now, because he was suddenly left alone with no help.

Help.

Even now, Jimmy sometimes woke up on the verge of screaming, sweat beads rolling down his forehead and back as he remembered the first time his mom married an abusive man, the first time someone had beaten him bloody, his first fist fight with a kid at school, the first time he ever felt so completely alone.

Jimmy wondered if he felt alone too. Sometimes Jimmy wanted to ask him about his past, as he couldn't help but notice that whenever a voice or hand was raised around him, he flinched. Jimmy knew that wasn't natural born instinct. That was instinct embedded in you after you'd been abused, after any raised voice was meant to demean you and any raised hand was meant to make you bleed.

Jimmy wondered if he ever cried out for help.

Jimmy couldn't bring himself to get out of bed. Not today. He had no reason to. It was Christmas break, so there was no class to skip, no friends to meet, and all he wanted was to avoid those people pleading for help.

Help me.

Maybe Jimmy needed help.

When he heard a soft knock at his door, he immediately feigned sleep. He didn't open his eyes once as he listened to the door creak open and gentle footsteps pad across the floor. Jimmy didn't even think about opening his eyes until he heard his voice.

"Jimmy?"

Jimmy let out a fake sleepy mumble. There was soft laughter, and a quiet rustle as something was placed next to the bed on the floor. Jimmy waited until he heard the door close once more before opening his eyes and shooting out of bed, gazing at the package left on his floor.

It was sad to think that as soon as he saw the colorful wrapping paper, he didn't think of a present, he thought of a sick joke. Regardless, he swept the box into his lap, noting the lack of a 'to-from' tag as he went about swiftly ripping off the paper, but slowly peeking inside the box.

It wasn't a sick joke for once.

It was an actual present, a sleek leather jacket that Jimmy had been admiring on a town trip a few days ago.

Had he really gotten this for him?

Jimmy hadn't received such a kind gesture for a long, long time. He didn't even realize his tears until they fell to his hands. Jimmy didn't bother to wipe them away. He just scooped the jacket out of the box, swinging it around his shoulders like a blanket before kicking the empty box to the floor and collapsing back to the bed. He let the warmth of the coat ease him into a much needed restful sleep.

Jimmy woke with a smile, for once. He idly readjusted his new jacket, slipping his arms into the sleeves and popping the collar as he sat up. The smile didn't leave his face then, but it did when he tripped like an idiot over the discarded box on his floor. He cursed silently, angrily prepping his foot to kick the damn box away until he noticed a folded slip of paper sticking out of the box's corner. He took the sheet into his hands, delicately unfolding until he could read the message inside.

Hey Jimmy,

Merry Christmas! I hope you like the jacket I got you. I noticed you pining at it last weekend in town. I thought you'd enjoy it.

You weren't always the nicest, I'll admit, but still, thank you for being my friend…

Now, I don't know how much you care, about this or me, but you won't see me anymore. I'm sorry. I'm just not worth it. I can't speak out, I can't stand up for myself, so my only option is to give up, I guess.

I don't know what else to do. I'm sorry.

But thank you once again.

Jimmy could only stare blankly at the paper. His hands were shaking.

Please help me.

He didn't move until he heard a loud scream from the room next over. His room.

Jimmy raced out, heart pounding as he assessed and pushed through the crowd of boys at his door.

"Oh my god."

"Somebody get a prefect!"

"Is he…?"

Jimmy shoved through the shouting boys until he was able to stumble into the room. The first thing he noticed was the boy who had screamed, pressed up against the wall and shaking, wide-eyed. The next thing he noticed was him hanging by a rope tied to the ceiling fan.

All his organs seemed to drop to his feet.

The next few hours were a blur of flashing lights, cops questioning the students, and prefects trying to maintain order. Jimmy had gone outside, meaning to run and get his bike and rush the fuck away from this madness, but he had collapsed at the stairs.

He blocked out his surroundings until he saw a stretched gurney being loaded into a nearby ambulance. The lights on the ambulance weren't active. The hand hanging off the gurney wasn't moving.

Jimmy couldn't believe it.

He hadn't even been able to thank him for the present.

"Petey…"