So all the cups got broke

Shards beneath our feet

But it wasn't my fault.

Team – Lorde

He woke up and realised that he had made a mistake.

He fallen asleep on someone else, and if he remembered right, he had cried.

Damn.

Distantly, Dylan figured that if Mr Carmichael was still here, it can't have been too bad.

But really, it probably had been.

He had punched him, and there had most definitely been blood.

So why had he stayed?

And why was still here?

And – wait.

Why was he still lying on his lap?

What.

Dylan sat up.

Well this was awkward.

(Goddamnit had he seen all the cuts and all the other - )

(shut up)

He didn't know what to do.

And by the looks of it neither did Mr Carmichael.

But Mr Carmichael was a teacher.

So he did what teachers do whenever things get awkward.

(No, he didn't ask about homework)

"Hello"

Dylan got off his lap.

And sat on his bed, covers up to his chin, and tried to act like nothing had been weird about that situation.

(shutup shutup shutup)

The voice was back.

He tried to ignore it, in the futile hope that, like before, it would go away.
The door opened, and Dad came in.

Dylan had never been so happy to see him in his life.

He crawled further into the corner between the bed and the wall, blanket covering him and watched as they whispered to each other.

His wrist and his stomach ached and

(no not his stomach shut up he wasn't hungry shut up)

so did his fists where he had punched Mr Carmichael.

They both glanced at him, then carried on, looking like two teenage girls sharing secrets.

Fucking teachers.

Fucking parents.

Fucking people.

He gave up, and rolled over, staring at the wall again.

It didn't have dents in it like his wall at home, but he would find a way to do it.

He knew he would, cause he knew he had to, cause he knew if he didn't, it would get too much and –

no.

It didn't matter anyway cause he would find a way.

He would, and he always would.

Doesn't matter, it doesn't.

(Yes it does it does)

Shut up

(It does)

shutup shutp shutup shutup shutup shutup

goddamnit

The door opened, then shut, and he glanced over his shoulder to check who had left.

Mr Carmichael had gone, and Dad was back in his chair.

Dylan wondered where Rosie was, but really, he decided that it was probably good she wasn't here, cause he didn't want her to be here.

Stay home, Rosie.

And try and forget me.

Don't worry, I'll leave soon.

He must have fallen asleep, because someone was shaking him and he almost bit his tongue trying to get them off him.

"The Doctor is here Dylan"

They made him take more pills, and put shit into his IV

Which they made him wear, cause he was 'undernourished', but really he wasn't, and he didn't need to eat.

Then they talked for ages with Dad.

again.

Whispering in the corner.

again.

Until he gave up, and went to sleep again, trying not to notice the looks they gave him or the notes they wrote on the clipboard by his bed.

He ignored them.

He was getting better at that.

*A/N

This took ages, cause it was really hard, but I did it so.

Here you are.

Also I have absolutely no fucking clue where this is going, so review!

I need another conflict. Tell what should happen. Please.