Vik said he loved me. That caught me completely off guard. He wasn't the type of person who would constantly remind you how much you mattered to him, like Preston was. It wasn't that it felt like Vik wasn't appreciative of what he had, you just knew that he cared without him having to say anything.
So that's why I started freaking out. No one had ever said that they loved me, besides my family. Preston had told the Pack, collectively, that he loved all of us, but that wasn't the same as now. Did he just mean it in a friendly or brotherly way? Or did it mean more? And which option did I want to be reality?
Was I even gay? Or bisexual? Or something else? I didn't know. I had never thought about it. It wasn't like I one hundred percent believed that I was straight, I just always had a bigger problem. I never had girlfriend or boyfriend, either. Everything was getting more and more frustrating.
I started frantically looking for my blade. Where could I have put it? I could have sworn that it was in my room last. I didn't want to have to deal with anything but that stupid piece of fucking metal. I hated myself even more when I found it in my hoodie pocket.
Rob was right. It was my fault Preston cut. If I hadn't made the stupid decision to self harm last year, none of this would have happened. I never actually had a legitimate reason to cut. My self pity got me nowhere. I was useless. I was a nuisance. No one should have I deal with me. I was better off dead. That made me smile.
Sorry, Vik.
Out of everyone I knew, Vik deserved an explanation most. He genuinely cared for me, and I owed him for that. But how was I supposed to get my suicide note to him? I had finished it a few days before, but I think I mainly used it as a way to vent out the emotions that I could express to other humans.
Maybe I should let them find out themselves. After all, if I failed it'd only make it worse in my part. They'd never know that I attempted suicide if I failed and lied. It wasn't like they would care anyway.
I glared at the vein in my right arm. Sometimes when I was cutting, I was tempted to cut into it, but put the thought aside and told myself I'd do it later. That was a new level of procrastination. A few tears fell onto my arm. Fuck it. Fuck it all. I was done. I placed my blade vertically on the vein and pressed as hard as I could. I dragged downwards. But it wasn't bleeding much. It was definitely bleeding more than a normal cut, but, let's face it, it'd never be enough to kill me. I threw my blade onto the ground and pulled my knees to my chest. No one was there to witness it, but I was embarrassed. I was weak.
I was crying. I was stupid to actually think that I would be able to go through with it. I was still scared. I didn't want to have to wake up another day, but did I actually think I was strong enough to cut into my blade? Today was just too much. I just needed to give up on everything for the day. I just needed to try again tomorrow.
Before I knew it, I found myself with my phone hugged to my chest. I wanted to talk to someone. Someone who would listen. But at the same time, I knew it'd be horrible idea. What was I supposed to do? My question was answered as Vik called. I just answered and started crying harder.
"I-I'm s-sorry, Vik," I stuttered.
"What did you do? Oh god, I had a feeling something was wrong," he asked.
"I- I just... I'm horrible..." I mumbled.
"What did you do?" he repeated, almost harsh.
"Do you think I'm better off dead?" I whispered, avoiding the question.
"Lachlan, you're not... considering..." he tried to say.
"Tell me, do you think I'm better off dead?" I said with a shaky breath.
"Why would you ever think that? I need you here, Lachlan. The Pack needs you. Can't you see that?" he replied, his voice desperate and sad.
"I can see that I matter to you, but that's it. It's just you, and I'm sorry, but that's not enough," I told him. It was probably the meanest thing I could've said to him at that moment, but I didn't feel bad saying it. I was a horrible person.
"I'm sorry, too. For not being enough," he mumbled. I heard a quiet sniffle.
"I thought about committing suicide today," I blurted out.
"Lachlan..." he sobbed. I made him cry. I made Vik Barn cry. Only more reason that I couldn't do anything good.
"I'm s-sorry, Vik," I repeated under my breath.
"Lachlan, don't tell me you think you're actually going to do it. You can't leave me alone," he begged.
"Alone?" I gave a bitter laugh while crying. "What do you mean alone? You have the Pack and the Sidemen. You're anything but alone."
"They're not you, Lachlan. When I texted you saying that I love you, I meant it in more than a friend way. Do you think I'd be okay if you were gone?" he admitted. So he loved me in more than a friend way. What was I supposed to do? I'd never even had a girlfriend or boyfriend before. I hugged my knees to my chest. What was going on?
"I… don't know what to say," I sighed.
"It's fine, I didn't expect you to respond at all," he said, his voice shaking.
"I'm sorry, I just.. don't know-" I started.
"It's fine. I-I'm fine," he insisted. "What else have you done? Have you relapsed?"
"Yeah…" I whispered, ashamed of myself. Vik was crying even more now.
"I-I said that I'd visit P-Preston. I honestly think that you'll n-need more company than he will. I'm s-sorry," he stuttered.
"It's fine, Vik. Go visit Preston and don't worry about me. He's never self-harmed before, he needs your help more than I need it," I insisted.
"Skype call me, right now. Show me the d-damage and I'll decide from there who needs h-help," he demanded.
"Vik..." I trailed off. Did he think I'd be able to be that... exposed? My life revolved around my blades and my scars, I couldn't just show him everything. Yet I did.
"Lachlan," he said, sternly. I gave in, hung up, and called him from my computer.
"Vik, I'm not comfortable. With myself," I mumbled.
"Please, Lachlan. Just the scars, nothing else," he begged. His voice almost made me break down. By the sound of it, he seemed to be in worse condition than I was. Was he?
"Fine..." I turned on my camera and lifted up my sleeves. I put my arms in front of my face so they were in the camera frame.
"Oh my god, Lachlan. I-I... This... I-it's my fault. I-I should've kn-known..." he cried.
"It's not your fault, Vik, stop. Stop blaming this on yourself," I said.
"I-I'm a shit f-friend. I'm so sorry... I- you deserve a friend who is smart enough t-to see that something is wr-wrong..." he continued.
"There are still more on my thighs..." I admitted. He let out a quiet, shaky breath.
"I'm sorry," he said over and over again.
"Vik, please calm down," I whispered. He still hadn't turned on his camera. I was worried for him.
"H-how am I supposed to be c-calm?" he asked.
"Stop caring about a waste of space..." I mumbled.
"You're not a waste of space!" he shouted. I flinched at his sudden outburst. "I'm sorry..."
"Stop trying to make me feel better by lying to me, I know what I am," I snapped. He let out a small whimper.
"What do I need to do to show you that you're wrong?" he sighed.
"It'll take a lot to change my mind," I warned.
"I'll do what it takes," he promised.
"I take it that you're going to go to Australia and not Texas then?" I asked. He hummed what I was assuming was a yes.
"I-I don't know how I'll tell Preston. Rob will kill me for sure," Vik told me, giving a broken laugh. I felt responsible for it. I was sure I was a tiny bit responsible, at least. I had personal experience with unrequited love, but I could only imagine what he was feeling.
"Do you think that, while Sara and Chelsea were secretly together, Preston and Rob hooked up at least once behind their backs?" I thought out loud. He gave another small laugh.
"Who knows, maybe," he replied.
"Vik… I'm sorry," I said, suddenly changing the topic.
"Don't be-" he started.
"No. You… you told me that you loved me… and I didn't say anything in response. I'm so sorry, I'm so fucking sorry," I apologized.
"No! It's not your fault. It's mine. Don't worry about it," he murmured. I could hear him turn away from his mic.
"You can't just brush this off as something small-" I continued.
"Why? Do you have a problem with me? Is there something wrong because I'm gay? Oh, I knew I shouldn't have said anything. Fuck, fuck, fuck..." he rapid fire asked. His breathing sped up.
"Calm down, Vik. I don't have anything wrong with that. I just… don't know what to do. I've never dated anyone before and I never even thought about my sexuality. I just never cared. Now I'm questioning how to act, and if I'm gay or bisexual or-" I ranted.
"Take a breather, Lachy. Don't pass out trying to say everything in one breath," he joked.
"I'm just so confused," I breathed.
"Aren't we all," he agreed.
"Vik, I'm so confused," I repeated.
"It's okay," he assured me.
"But when has it ever been truly okay?" I asked, staring at the blade I had thrown to the ground.
"Never, but we just have to pretend that it is to get through it," he sighed.
"So, erm, flights?" I muttered, after a long period of awkward silence. Vik turned on his camera. The video loaded on my screen and I saw him curled up in his chair. His legs were hugged to his body, inside his baggy sweatshirt, and his hood was pulled over his head so that only his eyes were peeking out.
"Sorry, I forgot it wasn't on. And I'm looking right now. At least I didn't already buy tickets to the States," he replied. "To Brisbane, right?"
"Yeah. What are the available flights, so far? And their price - I'll pay for you," I offered.
"Lachlan, I'm not letting you pay for my flight. Besides, you said you couldn't afford a flight to America," he said.
"Sure, it's a bit much, but I should have enough-" I insisted
"A bit much? You know how expensive these tickets are. The cheapest are around seven hundred pounds. Thats over one thousand dollars, for you," he continued.
"I can pay," I continued, just as stubborn. He sighed. The part of his hood that covered his face blew upwards a bit.
"Oh, look. I already bought the tickets," he sang in victory.
"I'm going to force you to take my money when you get here," I threatened.
"And I'm going to find ways to give it back to you," he finished.
"Vik..." I whined.
"It's fine," he insisted. "It feels like you're paying me to be friends with you. You don't need to pay for my ticket." It was silent for a few seconds.
"I really don't deserve to have you as a friend..." I mumbled.
"You deserve the world, Lachlan. Other people just take you for granted," he told me. I saw him wipe away tears.
"You deserve better than me. I'm the weight keeping you down from being happy," I said, looking at my keyboard.
"But I chose to become friends with you. I ran the risk of developing feelings for you, and I did. But it's okay," he promised. He looked into the camera and gave a small smile. I burst into tears. I pulled my hood over my face.
"It's not okay. It's not fair. Life's not fair," I cried.
"We'll be fine. I'll see you in three days." Then he ended the call.
I had to pull myself together. For him.