The school week is finally over and I'm almost home. The school week is finally over and I'm walking up my driveway. The school week is finally over and PJ just tripped over the mailbox because he was too busy staring at his phone. The school week is finally over and we're in the entrance hall racing to be the first one to have their shoes off and be dressed in our pyjamas for our "Chick-Flick" movie night. Mum and Jamie are going out, right into London, for Jamie's work thing and they're staying in a hotel for the night. When they told us they were going PJ made a joke about us gaining a baby brother, to which my mum looked utterly shocked… until she said,
"How dare you think I'm letting another boy into this house! There's already three of you! You ought to know that I'd be going to great lengths to make sure it was a girl, trading your games for gold to pay many witches to perform the ritual!"

We all laughed and suddenly I didn't feel like punching PJ anymore. My mum is so great. Anyway, so PJ and decided to have a themed movie night, unfortunately we weren't able to decide what theme, so we put a bunch in a hat and drew one out. Chick-Flicks was what was picked out and so we're watching Pretty Woman, Bridget Jones' Diary and a bunch of others that my mum pulled out from her apparent secret stash of DVD's. She seemed to like the idea that we were "getting in touch with our feminine side's", but was a little disappointed that we didn't invite her to join us. She said that she'd much rather eat popcorn and wish she was a prostitute or a socially awkward spinster with two gorgeous men fighting over her than go out to a "stupid work thing with lots of boring, old, white men in their fifties". Thanks for that mum. PJ found that comment of hers to be especially hilarious.

"DAN?!" PJ's calling me from his room, so I put down my pyjamas and drag myself into his room, letting out a huge sigh as though it was the most tedious task I'd ever performed.
"Whaaaat?" I whine exaggeratedly, and he looks up at me,
"Nice boxers, aren't they mine?" he larks,
"I don't know," I laugh back, "Probably. What do you want?"
"I found your bear in my wardrobe," he looks at me strangely, and hands me my stuffed brown bear,
"Don't look at me like that," I say, taking Teddy back from him, "You must've taken him the other day when I stole your laptop charger. That's when he went missing," I say before looking down at Teddy, "Isn't that right, Teddy? I missed you, did you miss me? Of course you did!"

I hug Teddy close to my chest and stare at PJ accusingly before bursting out into laughter, at my own exaggeration, closely followed by PJ doing the same. I step into the hallway and toss Teddy into my bedroom, quickly joining PJ back in his room, yawning upon re-entry and sitting on his bed. PJ shakes his head at my general laziness and continues rummaging through his drawers for his pyjamas, which may or may not be sitting in my room after being stolen by me…

"Dan? Peej? Boys, are you up here?" my mum's voice echo's up the stairs and PJ calls out to let her know we're in his room. She hovers at the open door way for a moment with an amused look on her face, "You two preparing for a fun night, then?" she winks.
"Yes, mum," I say sarcastically, getting up and wrapping my arm around PJ, "We're just so happy to have some alone time," I wink back before the three of us burst into laughter.
"Don't forget to actually put some clothes on, Daniel," she reminds me, still friendly, but her tone becoming more mum-ish.
"I will," I tell her.

PJ closes the last of his drawers, giving up on finding his lost pyjamas, I think I'll sneak them back in later so that he doesn't know I kidnaped them.
"Sweetie, your dad wants us all in the kitchen," she says to PJ, still in the doorway as to not impose on his part of the house. She's always so respectful of our rooms and privacy, so is Jamie, they trust us a lot, and because they do, we don't really hide much from them at all. It's a good system we have.
"Alright, thanks," PJ smiles at her, brushing his hand across her arm on his way past as a friendly gesture. The second he's reached the top of the stairs, mum gestures towards my room and I lead her inside. Here comes the mum-talk.

"Are you going to be alright here with PJ?" she asks, obviously trying not to sound concerned at all, but not succeeding.
"I'll be fine, I promise," I tell her nicely,
"How've you been feeling lately?" she continues with a nod and reassuring smile, she likes to check in on my moods every now and then, and I guess the idea of her and Jamie not being here worries her a little.
"Alright," I say, "Nothing bad,"
"Are you sure?" she asks me, a little more sternly this time,
"Yeah, why?"

"Dan," she sighs, "Your school called me this afternoon. They're worried…"
"What?" I ask, "Why? Who's worried? What did they say?"
"They said you had an outburst in class, stormed out and didn't come back. No one saw you for over an hour and a half," she says, her eyes searching my face for the slightest indication that I'm not okay.
"Oh," I breathe, "That. I'm sorry, I was having a bad day and some girl said something really stupid, I made a comment, Chris asked me about it and I got all defensive and snapped. I'm okay, though. When I left the class, my friend came and found me and we talked for a bit and then I went to my next class, I promise I'm okay."

"Your friend?" she asks, of course she chooses not to address the rest and goes straight in for information on my social life. She's such a mum,
"Yes, my friend," I say, apparently a little too suspiciously because mum has a look of excitement on her face. Oh no.
"Could this 'friend' potentially be more than just 'a friend'?" she leans in close and raises her eyebrows,
"Maybe…" I answer, a grin sweeping across my face.
"Does she have a name?"
"I've been known to address this friend as Philippa," I laugh and bury my face in my hands and mum stops to look at me.

"I know that face," she scans my features through my hands and speaks again, "You're not telling me something. Are you lying to me?" her voice is still light and playful.
"Mum, can I tell you something?" I start, and she nods at me expectantly. Just as I open my mouth to speak, Jamie's voice interrupts our conversation from downstairs,
"Come on, guys! It's getting late!" he calls out, and with that, I've changed my mind.
"I was just going to say that I think I have a crush or something," I smile, "I'll tell you more when there's more to tell, yeah?"
"Good plan, my baby," she says with a huge smile and hugs me tightly.

We're on our fourth movie and PJ's asleep on my legs and I can't feel my left foot. It's not even midnight yet and he's fallen asleep halfway through The Vow. I wiggle my leg a little and he murmurs something incoherently,
"Peej," my voice filters through his brain and he stirs a little, "PJ, I can't feel my foot."
PJ's suddenly shooting up, looking straight at my face with wide, green eyes, filled with concern and a little bit of sleep,
"What!? Are you okay?! What happened!?" he's frantically asking me, searching my face for any signs of distress. I let out a soft laugh and shake my head,
"You're on my legs."

He bites the inside of his cheek and pulls his hand up to his face in embarrassment,
"Maybe it's time for bed…" he chuckles, shifting himself and freeing my legs from their entrapment, "You alright?" he quickly asks me as he stands up and stretches.
"I'm fine," I breathe, stretching myself out on the lounge, "Night." PJ smiles at me and heads back toward the stairs to bed, leaving me alone. I could probably fall asleep here if I let myself. I wait a few minutes before copying PJ's earlier actions by standing up and heading up to bed, and falling asleep quickly.

OUCH! FUCK! What the heck!? …Oh. Only I could manage to wake myself by breaking the glass of water by my bed, covering half my body in water and cutting my arm! Jesus fucking Christ! I pull myself out from the covers, immediately feeling the cold hit my almost completely bare flesh, and turn on my lamp, and- oh god… it's worse than I thought. How the hell did I manage this? I open my top drawer and pull out the tissues – yes, I have tissues by my bed, shut up - and hold them against the bleeding scratches on my wrist and forearm.

I glance down at the remains of the glass, seeing a huge wet-patch next to my pillow where some of the water must've spilled. The edge of the glass is sharp and jagged now, three or four reasonable sized pieces laying on the floor. I must've hit my arm against the sharp edges more than once before waking up. How does someone do that?! Balancing the tissues on my wrist for a second, I lean down and quickly pick up the pieces of glass and putting them inside the remains of the clear cup before tossing it into the small bin – yes, there's a bin next to my bed, yes, it's what you're probably thinking - I look down at the balled up tissues in my hand as I hold them against my wrist, I hope it's not bleeding anymore…

I lift the tissues and notice that they're almost completely soaked with blood and what I thought were superficial scratches are apparently actual cuts. How the hell did I manage to do this to myself? I'm so goddamn tired. I toss the bloodied tissues onto the bed and grab a fresh one to hold over the cuts as I make my way out to the bathroom. There's some first aid stuff in there, so hopefully I'll be able to clean myself up a little better… I press the home button on my phone to check the time, I've only been in bed for two and a half hours. Great.

The florescent light of the bathroom stings my eyes a little as I turn it on and step inside, shutting the door. I should probably- oh right, there isn't a lock on here anymore. I drop the red tissue onto the counter and turn on the tap, running water over the cuts to soothe, and, I don't know, maybe clean them a little? I turn off the water and open the cabinet, grabbing an antiseptic, a large piece of one of those cotton-wool square things like on Band-Aids, and a waterproof dressing big enough to cover all of the cuts. The only problem I seem to have is that I can't clean it and dress it until it stops bleeding, at least not without spending the rest of the night worrying about it.

There's a noise coming from somewhere down the hall, but I don't really care too much. It's probably nothing. I dab at the cuts some more, soaking some toilet paper in the antiseptic and pressing it against my damaged skin because I know next to nothing about first aid and maybe this will make it hurry up and stop bleeding. This is so stressful, why won't it stop? I reach up and rub my tired eyes with my uninjured arm, my fingers putting pressure on my eyes and making me wish for sleep. I'd probably fall asleep right here and now if I weren't standing up. I reach down to put the lid back on the bottle of antiseptic and instead, in my tired state, I knock the bottle over onto the floor.

I can't take all this. I'm too tired, I want to go to sleep! I've broken my glass, I've spilled my water, I've cut my wrist and my fucking arm, I'm still bleeding, and now I've knocked over and spilled the stupid, fucking, useless bottle of antiseptic! I fall to my knees, feeling the cold writhe through my bones and the pain shudder directly through the joints, and I'm sobbing on the bathroom floor in a slowly reddening puddle of antiseptic and my own pathetic tears. It's now that I realise that not only have I spilled the antiseptic, but I've smashed that glass bottle too. Fucking GREAT.

"Dan?" I hear from outside, proceeding a light series of knocking, "Dan, are you in there? Are you alright?" PJ asks, his knocking is heavier and harder now. Of course I'm fucking in here. Who the fuck else would it be? The monster from the closet? From under the bed, perhaps? There is literally two of us in the house, one of us is in the hallway and there's someone in the bathroom. Logically, who the fuck else would it be?! Fuck. Don't say that, Dan.
"Yes?" I reply, sounding just as frustrated and stressed as I feel, and suddenly I regret saying anything at all because I'm just staring at the handle as he slowly turns it open from the outside…

PJ's obviously heard me crying in the bathroom and is coming to check that I'm alright. He opens the door before I can protest, I know how this must look, but it's too late and the door's wide open. He looks at my wrist and my crying, shaking form on the ground and audibly gasps, shaking his head and covering his mouth, taking a few steps back from the door frame. There are silent tears running down his face now, and I don't know what to do.
"D-Dan…" PJ stutters, "I…"
"Peej, no!" I shout, standing up on wobbly legs, "I didn't- I didn't do… this," I tell him, gesturing to myself and the scene before him.

"What did you do?" he whispers, trying to hold back his tears. He's terrified, "Dan, c-can- can I come in..?"
"Yes! Peej, it's okay, I swear," I say, but he shakes his head and takes a few steps over to me, lifting me to my feet and walking me over to the toilet, seating me on the closed lid in silence. It's a horrible, horrible silence.
"Just sit. Stay there. I'm going to- I'm gonna clean this up…" he says quietly, picking up the pieces of the brown bottle and lid, gently placing them in the bin before pulling a towel off the rack and using it to soak up everything I spilled. PJ tosses the dampened towel into the basket by the door and I close my eyes as he walks over and begins cleaning and dressing my wrist before silently taking me to his bedroom.

"Peej, will you let me explain?" I beg as he tucks me into his bed. He doesn't answer me. "I knocked over my glass and broke it, Peej. I didn't mean to cut my arm at all, I swear. I was in the bathroom to clean it up because it wouldn't stop bleeding and I didn't know what to do because it was scary and I was tired… And then I dropped the freaking bottle and started crying because apparently I'm an extremely emotional loser."
"I don't believe you," he tells me, his voice stern. He's trying to sound strong, tough even, but there's a tremble in his voice.
"Please believe me…" I quietly beg him, "I promised you, remember? I've broken your trust before, but I've never broken a promise to you, please, PJ."

He looks as though he's considering my pleas, and that's a good sign, right? Right. I've decided it's a good sign. He runs his shaky fingers through his hair and lets out a deep breath before nodding to me. Definitely a good sign.
"Dan…" he whispers, sinking into the bed beside me and getting comfortable, knocking against me a few times.

He pulls the blankets up over himself as well and turns to face me, slipping his arm under his pillow, "Don't get angry with me…"
"For what?" I ask, pulling the blanket over my shoulder a little more,
"I want a new promise," he whispers.
"I don't even know what that means…" I murmur into the pillow,
"Check in with me every day?" he asks, but I know it's not really a question, "And promise to be honest?"
"Okay," I nod, "I'll check in with you every day and I'll be one hundred percent honest. I need to tell you something…"
"Thank you. Good… What is it? Are you- are you okay?" he answers me.
"I'm alright, it's nothing like what you've been worrying about, I swear. I've been a bit… I've felt like crap a lot lately. Nothing too bad, I'm okay. On Wednesday I went to the doctor after school and so I've started on my medication again," I whisper, "I'm okay. I'm going to be okay."

"Alright… Is there something that, I don't know, is maybe causing you to feel down..?" he asks warily, taking in a couple small breaths.
"I think it's mostly just me and how naturally fucked up I am,"
"Shut the fuck up, Daniel. I mean if there's anything legitimate, not just you and your self-loathing," he snaps at me.
"Sorry…" I say. I'm suddenly feeling quite small and extremely stupid, "There is something… a couple something's."
"Yeah?" PJ asks, looking at me properly in the dimmed light of the bedside lamp. I have to tell him.

What do I say? Do I tell him directly? Do I lead up into it? Do I blurt out that I'm gay and hope for the best? No. No. No. I don't want to tell him. He'll hate me and I don't want that. I want us to be happy. If I tell him then it won't be long until mum and Jamie know, and I can't tear apart our family. I can't destroy another family. I just need to toughen up and get through everything and I will be fine. Everything will be fine. I'll… I'll water this down.
"I like someone… as more than a friend, I think. It makes me feel a little excited, but also a little scared because I have no idea what I'm doing or how people would react…" I explain,
"Why? Is she like, I don't even know…?" he frowns, "I can't think of what would render someone undateable, you know? Everyone has great qualities if you get to know them."

She. He said "she". Of course he did, I don't know what I expected.
"That's just something that's been on my mind, I guess," I finish off until he starts talking again,
"What about the other 'something's'?" he asks, and I'm not talking any more. I don't want to talk about my dad. He's been on my mind a lot lately, and I don't want the memory of him to waste anymore of my time, any more of my life. He's not worth it… except… I hate him. I hate him because I miss him, and- fucking hell! I'm thinking about him again! I can feel the warm wetness of tears down my face and now I know I'm completely screwed because PJ asked me a question and I'm crying in response. Fucking wonderful.

"Dan, I'm sorry… but, can you tell me what it is?" he slides his arm around me in comfort,
"No."
"You'll feel better,"
"No, I won't," I cry, "I won't."
"I thought we could talk about anything… We're best friends, Dan. We're brothers…"
"Fine." I say a little louder, and the word seems to disturb the entire feeling of the room, "Fine. It's my dad. Things are happening and I'm thinking about him a lot more. I'm trying to block it out, but it's really, really hard, PJ…"

"What things are happening?" he asks softly, running his hand through my hair and down my neck. I know it's a platonic action. I know he's not going to do anything, but the second his fingers reach the flesh of my neck, I flinch away with a gasp. Except now that I've opened my eyes again and I'm looking at PJ's scared and apologetic face, I'm suddenly painfully aware that it didn't come out as a gasp.
"Dan, I'm so sorry! What- what happened? What did I do? Shit, I'm sorry…." PJ's profusely apologising and I don't know what to tell him. All he did was run his fingers through my hair and touch my neck and I jumped from his touch and… and… I practically screamed and yelled out, "No! Don't hurt me!" I'm literally right on the edge of the bed now, as far away from him as the bed will allow. It's this. It's the setting. It's everything. I can't do it.
"I'm sorry, Peej," I breathe, my voice hoarse and higher than normal, and I project myself from the bed, shooting out of PJ's room, running into my bedroom and slamming the door behind me.

I can't breathe. I can't breathe. I can't breathe. I'm crying. My breathing, oh god… I can't… I can't stop it. It's too fast. It's too shallow. I'm breathing, but I can't breathe. I can't… there's no air. I take a few steps back and feel the wall meet my body behind me, and as I sink down toward the floor, my bedroom door swings open and PJ is standing in front of me. He keeps a distance and sits down a little bit in front of me, his eyes never leaving me. I can feel his gaze on me.
"I'm s-sorry…" I stutter, looking up at him, and his mouth tugs at a smile and he shakes his head.
"Deep breaths, okay?" he says calmly, "In and out, yeah? In… and out," he mimes, and I copy him, slowly calming down after a few deep breaths. This isn't the first time he's dealt with one of my panic attacks.

It's been a few minutes now of just breathing, and I think I'm alright. I nod my head at PJ and he stands up and grabs some tissues, handing them to me to wipe my teary face. I don't know why I went into a panic like that… It was weird and scary and I never want to experience that again.
"Dan… What happened?" PJ finally asks me again,
"I don't- I'm not sure…" I confess. I know there's a reason, I know there's one, but I can't wrap my head around my reaction.
"Are you okay? How do you feel?"
"I feel okay," I breathe shakily, "I just… I need to go to bed. I need to be alone. I'm sorry."
"No, don't be sorry… I'm a little wary of leaving you alone now though, can we work something out?" he suggests, taking the tissues and tossing them into the bin by my bed.

"Is this the glass you cut yourself on?" he asks, pointing into the bin, and I nod. "So, it really was an accident?" he continues, and I nod again.
"Are you okay?" I ask him this time, "Tonight is a bad night, and mum and dad aren't here, and it's just you, and I know that's overwhelming and I've really freaked you out… I'm sorry."
"I'm fine," he smiles, "I trust you, and I love you, and I want you to get some sleep," he says, and I smile at him,
"Thank you."
"Do you want me to stay or leave you alone? I'd prefer to stay, if that's okay?"
"Stay," I say, changing my mind. Suddenly I need him. Suddenly I'm glad he's as great as he is, and I'm glad he's here for me.