45.) "You're beautiful." Skytato, suggested by: IsolationTheory
(Warning: Content in this one-shot may be extremely triggering for certain individuals. If you suffer from depression, please be advised that this may not be suitable for you, and that you should proceed with caution.)
Is it wrong to watch someone, without them ever knowing? Is it considered stalking, if I start to hang out at the same places that he does? Is it weird that I do these things, so I can see him more? So that hopefully, he may see me…?
But why would he see me? Why would he care? It's stupid and yet, I keep coming back… I keep sitting in the same lunchroom as he does, and I hang out in the café that he does, and I know his school schedule like the back of my hand… Is it pathetic that I go out of my way, risk being late to my classes every day, in hopes of walking near him in the halls?
Although, who am I kidding? I am pathetic. I'm, weird, and at this point even I'm starting to think all of this is creepy. Though of course, who else thinks that? Why would they care to think that I'm creepy when most people could care less about me and my day and what's going on in my head…
But I still do it, even though I could I always stop myself… At this point, I know his locker combination too… even though our lockers are on opposite sides of the school. I know the route his bus takes, where he lives… He has a dog, too. I'm pathetic…
Another school day, another day spent in a torturous hell. How do you focus on your classes, your studies, when all you can think about is the person your heart aches for? I've never even spoken to him. How could I? He's… perfect. And I'm nothing more than broken glass, bits and pieces scattered across the floor. How do you get someone's attention when they don't even know you exist? Or maybe he does know. Maybe he thinks I'm weird. Maybe he thinks I'm creepy.
Seven classes and a lunch period. We share the same lunch period… but he's always with his friends. Who bothers to introduce themselves to someone that makes their heart pound, in front of a group of that's person's friends? It's a social suicide mission. Instead, I sit in the corner, just… hoping that maybe he'll be alone at some point, so I can speak with him. But that'll never happen. He's too perfect to ever be alone. He's not even popular, geeky if anything. Yet as geeky as he acts, he's a beautiful human being, and his smile… his dimple when he smiles…
And now, class is over, and its lunchtime. And I'm in the corner, watching, waiting for him to enter the room. Eventually he shows up, laughing, smiling with those dimples… but he's got three friends with him, and three others who are already sitting at a table. Is it pathetic, that sometimes I start to cry? Is it pathetic that I make myself feel so miserable, for a fantasized dream of him noticing that I exist?
My sister thinks it's stupid. My parents want to transfer me to a new school, because of my poor grades, my lack of focus, lack of motivation. The three of them say I'm depressed. Unstable. My teachers think something is wrong with my home life. They've sent me to the guidance counselor a few times in the past, so she could ask me if I were being abused. If I were in an unhealthy environment. If there was anything they could do to help me. It just makes me feel worse, knowing that people think something's wrong with me. And maybe there is something wrong. But what would I know?
Lunch is over in the blink of an eye, and he's gone with his friends. The more I think about it, maybe my family is right. Am I considered unstable, if I scar my skin? Am I considered depressed, if I cry myself to sleep most nights? If I don't like what I see in the mirror? If sometimes, I'm just not hungry, for days on end? It's truly pathetic, my life is.
It's truly worthless.
And maybe, he knows that.
And maybe that's why, he doesn't see me.
Because I'm not worth anything…
To anyone.
And now school is over, and I leave my class, a class that's right down the hall from his locker. His last class is in this same area. He'll be here soon… and there he is, laughing with a classmate, like he always is. Part of me wants to stay, in hopes that his friend will leave. I always end up staying, always missing my bus because I'm so far away from my locker, always walking 5.2 miles just to get home, always wasting two hours of my life, walking back to a family that doesn't do anything to make me feel better. A family that doesn't call me, when my bus doesn't come by after school. A family that never notices the scars I've created. A family that calls me unstable, and does nothing to help me.
But I don't wait today. I don't stay to watch, to hope. Because it's hopeless… he'll never notice someone as imperfect as me. And I don't blame him, because maybe I am unstable. Maybe I am depressed. Maybe I need help, and my family doesn't care. Maybe I don't have friends, because they didn't like my personality. And maybe that's why, I just wish Tyler would notice me. Because he sees all of the people I used to call friends, my best friends that I did everything with. He sees all of them. He likes all of them. And they all like him, because he's perfect. He's not unstable. He's not depressed. He hasn't needed help since fifth grade. He's not broken.
Today, I walk away. I don't wait. I don't watch him. I cross the entirety of the school, to my locker. And I put away everything, because I know I'm not getting the work done. I leave school, and I get on my bus, and sit in the back, not the first one here, not the last. And I stare out the window, and I see him, and it's as if the universe just wants to taunt me. Because he's finally alone.
We leave, and my stop isn't first, but at the very least my house is a 35-minute drive from the school. It goes by rather quickly; I suppose in that aspect, I'm lucky. Some people spend much longer on the bus each morning and afternoon, going to and from school. But of course, when you constantly miss your bus, what does that matter? When you work for so long, at something that's fruitless, and the moment you stop suddenly it's bore fruit, what does it matter? Nothing matters.
Not anymore. Not ever again.
When I'm dropped off at my house, I wait for the bus to leave before leaving myself, because what would my family care if I were home on time? If I were an hour and 25 minutes late getting home? If I never came home in the first place?
I go to the park. I love this park. It used to be so wonderful. Because when I came here constantly, I had friends waiting. I had happiness. I had people who cared. I had things to do. I was never ashamed of myself. I never disliked the mirror. I didn't have scars. And then slowly but surely, one by one, friends would stop showing up. And one day I found myself alone, waiting for hours, for anyone. It hurt. It really hurt. But what hurt most was seeing all of them hanging out, doing the things we'd all do together. They were all still best friends. They were all still hanging out. And I was the only one that was never told. I was the only one abandoned.
My memories here are bittersweet. Memories of a time that everything was alright in my life… and memories of the times I'd cry, because my friends didn't want to be around me anymore. Memories of spending my afternoons out here, because I didn't have friends anymore, and I tried. I tried to move on. I tried to find new friends. To surround myself with better people. People who wouldn't mind that, just maybe, I was a bit broken inside. And the more I tried, the more that pieces would break off, and the more I'd break. And eventually, I was too broken to be fixed, and broken things that can't be fixed are never touched again. They're thrown away. Forgotten about like the trash they are. Forgotten about because they're worthless. I'm worthless, and the universe has done everything in its power to remind me of that.
So now I sit, on the ground in the middle of the park, surrounded by trees and grass and some medium-sized rocks. It's quiet, calming as the birds sing, as the squirrels dance around throughout the treetops. If I could only enjoy such a relaxed environment, I would, but my mind is swimming in a sea of thoughts and memories, and images of Tyler. His voice, his smile, his laughter… because it's stupid, the more I think about it. About my efforts, to find a friend that wouldn't abandon me. Tyler is perfect. Loyal, and honest, and kind, and easy-going… and I don't know what I was thinking. Because he's perfect. And people like that shouldn't be brought down by broken little things like me.
And I suppose, that's why I'm here now. The world doesn't want me. Nobody does. Because if people wanted me, then maybe they'd have given me a chance. If my family wanted me, they wouldn't ignore how mentally unstable I've become, and they'd get me help. And if Tyler wanted me… maybe he'd of noticed the broken boy following him everywhere, too ashamed of himself to speak to him, too afraid to approach him when he's with his friends, because he was more afraid of the things they'd say, afraid that you would see how broken he was and decide that he's not worth any time.
Because that broken boy, is shattered to the point that it's no longer worth the pain of going through each day, alone. He's been alone for years now… all of high school, most of middle school… Almost seven years, I've been alone. I could scar myself, but what's the point? It doesn't fix anything. It doesn't make me forget. It doesn't change how the next day will turn out. All it's ever done is cause me more pain and suffering that I have to endure.
And it's been an hour now, that I've sat here with my pocket knife in hand, working up the nerve to cut my stomach open, or run the blade straight through my heart. I don't think I could slit my throat. I'm too pathetic and weak to have enough nerve to do it. And then there are the scars. I could reopen them, all 81 of them on my arms and legs, in hopes that they'll rip open enough to connect themselves, to create long gashes that cover the lengths of my arms and thighs.
There are so many things I could do, to end everything. The suffering. The pain. The loneliness. The easiest way would've been pills. So easy to swallow, but I'd feel pain because my stomach is empty, because I haven't eaten the past two days. The quickest way would've been a noose… the trees are tall enough… there's plenty of drop, and nothing to catch me. But I don't have a noose. Or pills. Because I'm stupid, and pathetic, and didn't think about it until now. I've left myself in the middle of a forest with nothing but a knife; no phone, no bag, no wallet… though of course, I don't have money. I couldn't buy any pills, or any rope, so I suppose that's why it never crossed my mind, either of those options.
If I keep sitting here, doing nothing, I'll never have the nerve to do anything. But where do I start? Where do I end? How do I want this to go…? I never thought I was capable of this, but then again, who does? But I need to start. Before it gets dark, and dangerous things come out. They might just be the only things that are grateful for my existence… former existence, by that point. My family isn't expecting me for another 25-ish minutes. If I start now, maybe I'll be dead by then. Maybe they won't notice until sundown. Maybe it'll take them until tomorrow to realize I'm not there. Maybe it'll take a week. Maybe they just won't notice, until someone finds my dead body – or what's left of it, by that point.
My wrists. I start there. The blade is sharp – the same blade I've used to scar myself for years. I've done it in school before, in the bathrooms. I didn't do that often, but sometimes I couldn't help it. I needed something. I needed to make sure I was still real, because by that point I didn't feel real. I felt like a ghost, because no one ever saw me, and no one ever spoke to me… no one was ever my partner, and no one cared whether or not I was there. My skin opens easily, as the blade slides through it like butter. The more scars I reopen, the deeper I convince myself to go, my arm beginning to warm up as blood spills to my fingertips, staining the grass, and my skin.
And then I remember that I'm still wearing my pants. I'm pathetic. Idiotic. I forget about my thighs, and roll up my shirt to start scarring my stomach, instead. It's more painful, because the skin isn't scarred here. It isn't used to being cut open. There's more to harm here. I make vertical cuts, making sure to go deep enough to bleed. I still don't have the nerve, to fully cut my stomach open with a horizontal slash. But I keep making smaller cuts, hoping it'll be easier to make the horizontal slash that opens everything, once most of my stomach is already opened by the vertical cuts.
But it's painful. It's really painful. There's a lot of blood now. My left arm is numb, and my skin is red in both areas. It's getting harder to breathe, harder to think, because despite everything I've told myself and everything I know is true, there's still a part of me that doesn't want to die. That fears death. The sloppier the cuts get, the more painful they are, and now my hand is shaking. I'm crying, because I'm pathetic. Because I'm hurting myself. Because I feel nauseous from blood loss. Because everything hurts. Everything always hurts, but it's ten times worse now, and I knew it would be painful and yet now I'm regretting everything.
I'm regretting it. I can't regret this. I can't spend another day being a ghost. I can't. I can't. This isn't a life. It's not. It's really not. And yet I can't stop crying. I can't move the blade anymore. I can't do this. I can't do anything. I'm worthless. I'm disgusting. And I continue to cry, sobbing as I continue to bleed, as I get dizzier, fainter. Because this is bad. This is bad. I'm going to die. I'm actually going to die. I've done this. I did this.
And I question why no one likes me. Why no one will give me the time of day. It's because I'm disgusting. I drop the knife into the blood-stained grass. I think I'm paler. I can't tell. I can't see. I'm crying too much. All I can smell is blood. The iron. I can't feel my arm anymore. I can't do anything right. I don't want to live another day but I'm too weak to kill myself. Why can't I do anything right? Why do I always cause myself more pain? Why couldn't I just talk to him? Why couldn't I make more of an effort? Why couldn't I ask for help? Why? Why…?
I don't have my phone. I can't call anyone for help. Who would even come to help? Who would care enough, that I was dying, to come and save me? No one wants me; the calls would be in vain. And it hurts. Because I want help. I don't want to die anymore. And I'm not near the playgrounds, or the parking lot. No one is around. I'm in the middle of nothing. Of the park, the forest, far from any house, far from any person. I continue to sob, because it's the only thing I can really do. I wrap my arm around my stomach, but the pain is extreme. I cry out, loudly, because I regret this. I regret everything. And for once, I wish I were home, even if my family doesn't care. I'm in too much pain to move. I want to go home…
I don't notice them at first, the sounds of the leaves, of something lurking. Because I'm sobbing too loudly. I can't hear anything but myself. My thoughts. But the noises get closer, and I hear them when I'm gasping for air because the sobbing is taking away my breath. I don't know how long I've been bleeding. 20-minutes? 30? Or has it been less? Something's found me. The blood. I'm going to die. It's going to kill me. It's going to eat me. I pick up my knife. I don't want to die.
But it's not an animal that soon appears around a tree. It's him. It's Tyler. Because the universe hates me. It wants me to suffer. Haven't I suffered enough? He's just standing there, hand on the tree, staring at me. At my disgusting mess of a body. I close my eyes, and continue to cry, because this isn't what I wanted him to see. I didn't want him to see how broken I am. Because no one stays. No one wants to deal with my jagged edges, my instability, the darkness in my heart.
I'm still bleeding. The grass no longer has any shade of green. It's a dark red. My arm is red. My hand is red. The knife is red. And I can hear him move, calm, because he's always calm. I keep sobbing, because he's going to leave. He's not going to care. No one cares.
"Hey…" He's next to me. Why is he next to me? This is cruel, this joke. "It's going to be okay." His voice is gentle, and I can feel his fingers pull my right fist apart, taking the knife from me. "I'm going to call the police now." And he pulls out his phone, and he stands, and he wanders away. He's not going to call the police. I'm going to die. I don't like this joke. It's not funny. "Yes, hello, uh, I've just found a friend of mine, and I think he tried to commit suicide. He's bleeding a lot. He needs a hospital… We're in the Jefferson park, um, the nearest entrance would be the one off of Pike Road… alright. Thank you." This is horrible. This joke is horrible. The universe hates me. Haven't I suffered enough? Isn't what I've done to myself enough for you?
"Hey," I'm still crying as Tyler takes a knee next to me. "An ambulance is coming. We should get closer to the Pike Road entrance. Did you cut your legs?" I'm trying to swallow down air and cry at the same time. I don't answer him. "It's alright," Tyler mumbles, gently placing an arm around my shoulders. "It's going to be okay. Can you walk at all? Should I carry you?" He pulls his arm back, and a bit later when he's suddenly wrapping his shirt tightly around my arm, I cry out. "I'm sorry. We need to keep pressure on the wounds, to slow the blood flow. You're really pale. I'm going to carry you. Can you keep pressure on your stomach?" If this is a joke, he's being very serious about it. If it's not… I nod. "Okay. I'm going to pick you up now." I can feel him wrap his arm underneath my armpits, and his other arm hooks beneath my knees, and he lifts me. It's horrible, the pain. I nearly scream. "I'm sorry."
Tyler is clutching me to his chest, and we're moving through the forest. It's a fast and bumpy ride. It's awful. I keep my arm tightly pressed to my stomach, trying to distract myself from all of the pain by, uh, causing more pain. I don't know how long Tyler runs for. I don't know what time it is. And I feel faint. I'm going to faint. We're at the Pike entrance, one of three entrances. I came from a different entrance. There are people here. I think someone screams something. I can't hear much. Just my breathing. My head hurts. My throat is dry. I want to vomit.
"An ambulance is going to be here soon." Tyler mumbles, above me. When did he lay me down? What am I laying on? "Hey," He's shirtless. He has a nice body. I wish I had his body. I'll never have his body… "Adam, focus on me, okay?" His hands are really warm. Or am I just cold? His hands are on either one of my cheeks. "Adam, you need to stay awake, okay? They'll be here soon." I can't feel my stomach. I can't feel much of anything. I'm going to die… but the thought doesn't sound so bad anymore. Because he's here. If this is real, then an ambulance is coming. He cared enough to call an ambulance. He didn't leave me there. I feel really cold. Everything hurts, but most of the pain is numbed. "Adam, you need to stay awake." I can't see him anymore. "Adam." He sounds worried. Should I be worried? My stomach starts to feel tighter. Am I doing that? Is Tyler doing that? Where's my other arm? "Adam, I need you to look at me. I need you to stay awake." When did he start calling me Adam? How does he know my name? Did one of my friends tell him? Why would it matter? Nothing much matters right now. I feel like I'm sleeping. Everything is warm, and it's dark. I can hear Tyler talking to me. But he stops talking. I don't remember when.
I don't remember when I got to the hospital either. The pain is back. I can't move my arm. My stomach hurts. I can hear a beeping. There's a clock. Its hands are kind of blurry. I think it says one something. But school lets out at three. Did I faint? Is it one in the morning? What day is it? The beeping is giving me a headache. Memories start coming back to me, about what happened. Tyler called an ambulance. He helped me. Did he call my parents? My mom is here. She's asleep. How did he call them? Did the doctors call my mom? Where's Tyler?
My head hurts from the amount of questions I have. So, I stop thinking. I just lay here, and breath for a while. I think I fell asleep again, even if it only feels like a minute has gone by. It's nine now. The window blinds are open. It's sunny outside. My mom is gone. Her jacket is here though. I'm hungry. Is she getting food? I feel so nauseous right now. My stomach hurts. I think it growls. It probably hates me, like everyone else. But my mom was here. Maybe she cares. I think Tyler cares. But he isn't here. What day is it? In the park, I think it was Thursday. Is it Friday? Or have I been asleep for a few days? A doctor comes into the room. He smiles at me. It's gentle.
"How are you feeling, Adam?"
"Hungry." He chuckles.
"I imagine you would be. You brought yourself up to class two hemorrhage."
"What does that mean?"
"Class two hemorrhages involve losing up to 30% of your body's blood volume."
"Did I die?" It's a weird question. I've heard of people dying and then, being brought back to life again.
"No." Oh. "Our bodies can sustain blood loss, to a point. Had you lost over 40% of your blood before the ambulance arrived, you would be dead right now. Though, any deeper into your stomach and you would've severed one of your major arteries. You would've died before your friend found you. You're very lucky you missed it." I try to swallow some spit, but my mouth is dry.
"Can I have some water?" The doctor sets his clipboard down and fills a small plastic cup with some water. He doesn't attempt to sit me up, but he does hold my head up. And the cup. He holds the cup. I'm pathetic. The water is nice. It's not cold, but it's not super warm either. My stomach feels even more empty when the water gets there. The doctor begins talking again, about stitches and how they're going to treat me; he mentions that he's already told my mother all of this. He talks for a while. I zone out. My head hurts. He starts to check some needles I hadn't noticed. They're connected to fluids. He does a few other things but before he's finished I fall asleep again. When I wake up, it's the afternoon. My mom is reading a book in the chair she'd been sleeping in. My sister is here. She's on her phone.
"Mom?" She looks at me, and sets her book aside before hurrying over. My sister keeps messing with her phone.
"Hi, sweetie…" Mom mumbles, gently holding my right hand. We're both quiet, mom messing with my hand as I close my eyes and lean my head back on the pillow. "I'm sorry." I open my eyes again. She looks distraught.
"Why?"
"Because we couldn't find help in time." Holding my one hand with both of hers, she places her head gently against them. "No one would take our insurance. We've been trying to find someone for you and your sister. We've been trying for months, sweetheart. I'm sorry…" I want to say something, but she's crying now. I can feel the wetness against my hand.
"… Have you really?" My voice is soft. Mom looks to me.
"Yes, sweetheart. Our insurance is coming from veteran's benefits, because of your father's time in the army. It's a weird insurance. A lot of people won't take it, and we just don't have the money it takes for a regular therapist. Just seeing a psychologist to get diagnosed with something is hundreds of dollars… Seeing someone like that regularly, even just once a week… by the end of the month, we'd be out over a thousand dollars from you and your sister combined, and we just don't have money to spare right now. The house still has mortgage bills, and the cars aren't paid off… and now that your sister's going to college, and has her own car, we… we just don't have money sweetie. I'm sorry. This isn't what I wanted to happen." Her tears are silent, and she's playing with my fingers now. She looks tired. I didn't know. I wish I'd known. This hospital visit isn't going to help. I've just made everything worse. "The doctor's here are working to help us find a therapist that'll take our insurance."
"I made things worse, didn't I? With the money, I mean." She smiles softly, shaking her head.
"No, sweetie, it's alright. The doctors here take our insurance. Most hospitals will take any insurance. If they're getting paid, it doesn't matter where the money is coming from. Don't worry about money. Your father and I are working things out. We've been trying to find ways to save money. It's going to be alright. You don't need to worry about any of this. None of this is your fault."
"Did you stop drinking coffee?" She furrowed her eyebrows. "You look really tired. You don't normally look tired." She smiles.
"Well, I'm not normally up half the night with my baby boy in the hospital. But that's a good idea. Coffee is pricey." It's nice, to talk like this. I still feel horrible. I'm a terrible son. Why wouldn't they care about me? My sister I understand; we're supposed to hate each other. I guess they have been out of the house more. I didn't pay attention…
We talk for a bit longer, but then she has to leave, for work. My sister leaves with her. But mom says that dad should be here after his shift ends. For the meantime, I'm alone. It's a little past three now. I can't help but wonder what Tyler's doing. I wish he were here. I don't think I'll be seeing him a lot anymore. He probably thinks I'm weird, for trying to kill myself, and then deciding not to finish. I wonder if mom and dad are going to transfer me to a different school. I don't know how that works. If it requires money, I don't think anything like that will happen sometime soon…
The doctor comes to check on me again. He checks a bunch of different things. I don't know what they're called. He asks me some generic questions; I try to answer honestly. Eventually he's gone again. I'm alone again. But I don't feel so alone. No, I feel sluggish. There's a TV mounted on the wall. Do all hospital rooms have a TV? I look for the remote, and eventually I find it, but I can't reach it with my right hand. That sucks. There's a knock at the door, and when it opens, it's not the doctor. It's not my dad, either.
"Tyler?" He softly smiles, but he looks tired.
"Hey," He shuts the door. I let my right arm hang over the bed railing, watching as Tyler moves to sit in the chair my mom had dragged to my bedside. "How are you?"
"Why are you here?" The question hurts to ask, but I don't understand it. Why is he here? Why would he come back? Tyler seems hurt by the question, his smile falling.
"I was worried."
"But why?"
"You were dying, Adam. Why wouldn't I worry?"
"But you don't know me." Tyler doesn't answer that one. "You never talk to me at school." I look down at my stomach. "So why do you care? Why did you save me?"
"I wasn't just going to let you die. And…" Tyler makes an adorable face, looking away. "Well, I see you a lot. But you always look so sad. I didn't want to bother you with… well, with me. I didn't want to make things worse."
"But I was following you everywhere because I wanted you to talk to me." I mumble, softly frowning.
"You were following me…?" Tyler seems surprised, and yet, he doesn't seem weirded out. "I-… I just thought…" He doesn't finish, making that face again.
"I've never bought anything at the café you go to… and most of our classes are an entire school distance apart. My locker is on the other side of the school from yours." It's embarrassing, listing these things off. But he's here. He didn't leave. "I've been missing my bus all year long because I don't get to my locker in time."
"How far of a walk is your home?"
"It's down the street from the park." Tyler stares at me. He looks worried again.
"Y-you've been walking 5 miles home every day? Why would you do that?"
"I wanted to talk to you… but you're never alone."
"I was alone yesterday."
"I gave up on you yesterday." Tyler seems hurt by that. "I-I gave up on everything. School is a living hell. I don't have friends. All of my closest friends abandoned me in middle school, a-and I haven't had a friend since because no one wants to put up with me…" I inhale. "B-but then I saw you, and I didn't think anything much, b-but that first day I saw you, you just… you sounded so nice. All of your friends adore you. I-I just thought, that maybe if you were my friend, that… that I wouldn't be lonely anymore."
"If you wanted to be friends, why didn't you say anything?"
"Because you're never alone." I repeat. "I-I thought that, if I tried to say anything, that your friends would…" I pause, and sigh. "Some of your friends are the same people that abandoned me in middle school. I-I just thought, that they might…" I inhale. "I thought they'd start telling you about how broken I am."
"Broken?" Tyler is weird. It's like, my every word has an effect on him. Is that just, how he is? A good listener? That would make sense. People like to talk about themselves.
"I'm unstable. Depressed. Suicidal too, apparently." I shake my head, not looking at him, my eyes beginning to water. "I'm pathetic. I can't do anything right. I couldn't even kill myself properly. I-I did all of that to myself for nothing. I'm disgusting."
"Hey," Tyler's voice is soft, and it reminds me of yesterday. I can feel him gently take my hand, rubbing circles against my palm. "I don't think you're broken, Adam. I think you're human. Everyone has something they struggle with. I struggle with things all the time."
"But you're so perfect." I look back to him. He blushes. "Everyone loves you at school… You've got an amazing body… Lots of friends… and your house is really nice. You have a big backyard. A dog. I just, I don't know how you could struggle. You have everything I could ever want." Tyler gently smiles.
"I suppose I do. But I'm not perfect." He looks back down to my hand, still rubbing circles. "My parents aren't around anymore. My aunt and uncle take care of me now. We do have a dog, but the dog is only fond of my aunt. I suppose I have a good body, but I've spent years working hard to get it." He chuckles. "I do have a lot of friends, but most of them aren't around much. We're just school buddies. When school lets out, it's as if we don't even know one another. And I don't think everyone loves me."
"I'm sorry," Tyler looks to me. "But, I… I still don't quite understand why you struggle. I imagine losing your parents was hard. I understand that. Even still, being a hard worker isn't a bad thing. And even if most of your friends are just school buddies, at the very least, you still have those people around. You have people to talk with. People who spend time with you. And, most people adore you… maybe not everyone, but, most people."
"Well, I suppose you do have a point." Tyler looks back down to my hand. "But, I do get lonely, even with all of my friends. They all have partners… lovers. I don't have that. I want that, but I struggle with finding the courage to express myself."
"I know 43 different girls who would die of happiness if you asked them. Do you want a list?" Half of me is joking. The other half is being serious. If anyone at all, Tyler deserves happiness. He chuckles.
"Thank you, but it would be pointless. I already have my eyes set on someone, but… I don't think I'm ever going to be able to say anything."
"You could bring me along." Tyler returns his gaze to me, giving me a curious look. "I'm pretty disgusting. You'd look a million times hotter if you brought me along." Tyler frowns again, looking sad.
"You say such awful things about yourself. I don't understand it…" He looks back to my hand, but he isn't rubbing circles anymore.
"But the things I say are true."
"They aren't."
"They are."
"They aren't to me." Tyler says. He still looks upset. "I don't think you're disgusting. And I don't think you're broken either. I think you've been hurt so many times that you just can't see yourself in a different light." I shake my head, looking away from him.
"I am disgusting. I did all of this to myself. I hurt my family. And I'm useless, with everything. I just wanted to get one thing right. And at the very least, if I could've killed myself, it'd be one less thing for my parents to worry about."
"Well, that's not what I think."
"And what do you think? That I'm weird? Creepy for basically stalking you? Pathetic?"
"You're beautiful," I wasn't expecting that. "That's what I think. And you have scars, but everyone does, whether or not you can see them on their skin. Your parents love you, and if they're worried about you, it just means that they love you even more than I think you realize. And, maybe there are a lot of things you can't do. But there's a billion things on Earth for people to do. And there are probably thousands you can do that others can't." Tyler looks really sad. He's watching me now. I'm watching him. We're both quiet for a bit. I look away from him.
"I don't understand you. You basically ignore me at school. I still don't understand how you know my name." I softly chuckle. "And then, you show up out of nowhere in the park, and you save my life, a-and suddenly we're friends. And you're here now. I just… I don't get you. You don't make sense. You don't even live near Jefferson. What were you even doing there?"
"I have a friend that lives near there. I'm supposed to spend the weekend at his place. He wanted to hang out in the park, so I went home with him yesterday since this weekend is supposed to be stormy. We did some homework, and then we went to the park." Tyler's voice is eerily calm now. "I saw you there. You seemed sad… but, it was different from the times at school. It was like you weren't conscious of your surroundings. You went into the forest, and my friend and I hung out, but you never came back. A long time went by. I think an hour and 17 minutes. I was worried about you, so I asked my friend if we could go make sure you were alright."
"How did you even find me?"
"You were walking through mud. The grass cleaned your shoes off after a while, but there were still partial tracks for a bit. That gave us the general pathway you were following." Oh. Of course. I would be stupid enough to do that. "My friend thought it was pointless. That the forest was too big. That we wouldn't find you… but, then we heard you scream. It was a bit distant. And the farther we travelled towards where you'd screamed, the more we could hear you crying. You sounded very distressed."
"I don't remember seeing your friend." I mumble, and Tyler gently smiles.
"Well, when we finally found you, we were behind a bunch of trees. You were covered in blood. Soaked in it. There were even smudges of it on your face." Did I touch my face? That sounds like me. I was probably trying to stop the tears. Do I still have blood on my face? "My friend is pretty squeamish. He said he was going to go get our stuff. That the Pike Road entrance was close by, so he'd drive the car over there and pick me up." Tyler falls silent for a bit, and neither of us say anything. This topic seems to upset him. He gently chuckles, shaking his head. "Seeing you like that was a living nightmare..." Tyler quiet mutters. "I didn't know what to do. And then you picked the knife up again, and I didn't want you to hurt yourself even more."
"Actually, I thought you were an animal attracted by the smell of blood."
"An animal?"
"By that point, I didn't want to die anymore." I confess. "I was scared. I left all of my stuff in my locker at school because I just decided that, when I killed myself, I wouldn't need it. So why bother bringing it? And then I started regretting everything… and when I heard you moving around, I thought you were an animal, and that I was going to get mauled to death. I was really scared."
"I didn't mean to scare you." Tyler mumbles, beginning to rub circles on my palm again. "My phone said it was about 4:37 when I called the police." He shakes his head. "By the time the ambulance arrived, my chest and arm were smeared in blood. A bunch of people were freaked out. There was some guy that I didn't know; he took his shirt off and replaced my shirt with his, since mine was soaked in blood by then. You were passed out by the time the paramedics were there. They took you to the hospital. I made sure they knew your name, so they could contact your family. Then my friend took me back to his place."
"You didn't go with me?" That hurts a little.
"I didn't have a shirt. It would've been indecent of me to sit in the hospital shirtless, smeared in blood." Oh. That's true. "I showered at my friend's place, and he gave me one of his shirts, and then we drove to the hospital. Your parents were there by then."
"Was my sister there?"
"She was on her phone."
"She's always on her phone." Tyler quietly laughs. But soon it's quiet again, and eventually something that he said comes to mind.
"Seeing me covered in my own blood, that… was a nightmare for you?" Tyler looks back to me. He seems surprised. His face flushes.
"Did I say that out loud?"
"Yes."
"Oh." He looks away, making that face again. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say that."
"I don't understand." I mumble, watching him with half-lidded eyes. "You've never cared about me before yesterday."
"I've cared about you for a while, actually." Tyler confesses. "But you were so sad. I didn't want to make your life worse with my own… struggles."
"How could you have possibly made my life worse?" I ask, closing my eyes because hell I feel tired. Tyler doesn't answer, but I can still feel his thumb rubbing circles on my skin. But then, he's kissing me. Tyler's kissing me. I don't open my eyes. I'm not sure what to do. But he pulls away, slowly, after a little bit of time has passed.
"I… I could do that." I don't answer. I didn't know he was gay. I suppose that makes sense. I've never seen him flirt with any girl before, or ever, for that matter. "I-I'm sorry. That was stupid. I'm sorry." I slowly blink my eyes open, my eyelids feeling heavy as I look to Tyler. He's making that face again, looking towards the end of my bed. His face is red. His ears are red. It's really cute. Am I gay? I don't know. People don't like me. I've never explored romance. "Maybe I should go." Tyler mumbles, and he goes to stand, but I wrap my fingers around the thumb that was rubbing circles on my palm.
"I've never been kissed before." I mumble, blinking slowly. "It felt nice." Tyler's face seems to get even darker, and his eyes are confused and scared looking, but there's something else in his eyes too. My heart… just wanted a friend. "Could… Could you kiss me again?"
But I think I've found something better.
