A/N: Trigger warning for this chapter for cutting that I have mentioned very briefly in earlier chapters. (Why it is rated what it is...) It is not that bad. Might as well be called now: Dave, are you sick? Ayo heads up that the story is taking a twist.
John POV
I opened my eyes, and stared up at the bathroom ceiling. What am I going to do with myself now? Dave might figure out that I have been depressed, or even worst-
Staring up, I started to wonder things. I got up. My journal smacked on the bathroom floor and I opened the bathroom cabinet. I gazed at the contents of the shelf and found the scissors right where I left them.
I looked at the blade.
I looked at my wrist, already scarred from other...incidents.
I looked at myself in the mirror.
Dave POV
My eyes were open; something felt wrong. For one, I was congested and two: there were two sandwiches by the bedside. I had no idea where they came from. I felt sick from even looking at them. They looked good though I... I really wanted to go home now, I was feeling heavy and like shit. We got nothing constructive done and there was miscommunication everywhere. John was sweet but man, Bro's playful yelling and light punches seemed like heaven now. I breathed a couple of labored breaths.
I felt a tension in my stomach.
Yep. I was officially fucked. I sprinted out of the room and slammed my hand on the bathroom door.
"Let me in I'm going to-"My hand flew over my mouth and the door was timidly opened.
I pushed myself inside the bathroom, past the small figure-probably John- and clutched the toilet. I threw up harshly and when I was done, I was shivering and groaning. My hand pulled on the toilet's lever and I slumped onto the floor in a ball.
"Sorry." I slurred.
"Oh my god-Dave?" It was John's voice.
"What?" I grunted, slightly annoyed at the light and sound.
My clammy hand went to my face to to adjust my shades. They weren't there. Holy shit. No. I had my shades to hide my feelings and even though I didn't have it as bad as my journal friend here...there was still a sense of hiding it well. My head was pounding but I looked up at him. John was clutching a pair of scissors and looked scared.
"John..." I looked at him for real this time.
Everything hurt but it dawned at me of what he was doing. For in the past all my scars weren't from dueling with Bro. John's journal told me more than I could ever get from looking at him. He was my friend first and my...
I growled, "John hey put that down fucking now."
There were tears in his eyes.
"John hey I know life is hard and that you have gone through some depressive episodes and that you like..." I gagged not on my words but started to cough so hard it hurt my chest.
"Woah woah woah Dave-?" John was angry, his figure was stiff, "Excuse me. What?"
John was visibly shaking; I realized that I messed up.
"Welp." I panned, my head was in my hands now.