Touch The Sky (Christian Novelli fanfic) (In editing!!)

Chapter 12

Tristan's POV

I sit up at night, phone in hand. Time to help some people...

As I'm looking through the self harm tag on tumblr, seeing all those cuts, I get an urge I haven't had for almost a year. Stronger than I've ever felt. An urge to... Self harm.

I react right away, grabbing a knife from the kitchen and hurrying to the bathroom.

Once I'm done, I grab a striped long sleeve shirt and put it on. Hopefully it won't seem too weird, as it's the middle of summer.

"Tristan?" I unlock the door, smiling my best fake smile.

"Hey Christian. What's up?" I shove my hands in my back pockets, rubbing my thumb over my smooth IPod.

"Not much... Why are you wearing long sleeves?" I should have told him because I was cold. But I stayed silent, completely silent. "You didn't..." He trailed off, grabbing my arms. I flinch in pain. Before I know it, he's pulling my sleeves up. Fresh cuts scatter both my forearms messily. "Tristan..." He stares at my cuts for a long time. "...Why.... You.... Just... Nevermind." Christian brings his lips to my newest marks, pressing them lightly there, and repeats this on both arms, letting his lips linger. "Please don't do it again."

"But... Christian... It's hard. I already am having more urges..."

"We're in this together."

"Maybe... How about this? Every day we show our newest cuts, if we have them, and talk about why we did it, and... Track progress, I guess." He nods. "Alright... So you've seen mine... Your turn."

Christian sighs and rolls up his sweater sleeve. There are more than I did. And deeper. Much deeper. Much, much, deeper. It's obvious.

"Christian that's... Bad... How did you even get that deep?"

"Scissors, Razor Blade... Anything. I use whatever I can find. Scissors go the deepest, I've found." I hug him. I just... Hug him. I wish he was happy. I wish we were both happy.

"I hate this." I whisper. "I hate that neither of us are happy. I wish we could be happy together." Christian nods.

"I agree... These antidepressants don't work too well. Instead of being happy or sad, I just feel dead..." Christian said, pulling his sleeves back down. "They also make me tired... Goodnight..." Christian passed out on the floor. I screeched and ran to find the bottle.

Side effects: Drowsiness, Passing Out, Nausea, Headaches...

Oh. Okay. I sigh and walk upstairs and carry Christian to his bed, tucking him in. "Goodnight, Christian..." I mumble, walking downstairs and flipping on the TV for background noise.

I roll up my sleeve to see the newest cuts. I know the pictures on tumblr weren't the only thing making me do that. As I run my thumb along my scarred skin, I wonder when I should tell Christian I'm leaving. I decided to go to accept the full scholarship to my dream school, how could I not? I know leaving Christian is the worst idea possible, but he'll understand... Right?

"What're you thinking about?" Christian's voice brings me to reality, and I pull my sleeve back down, shaking my head.

"It's nothing..." I answer quietly, looking at my hands in my lap.

"Please tell me, Tristan... Please?" Christian puts his hand under my chin, tilting my head up to meet his gaze. (A/N: I'm sorry but I am fangirling so hard about that. Imagine Tristan is you and Christian did that ASDFGHJKL REALLY!)

"I... I got a full scholarship to the college I want to go to... And I... Accepted it... I'm leaving for the airport tomorrow... I'm sorry, Christian... I'm sorry, but I've been dreaming of this college since I was a little girl! You know how much this means to me, right? Please forgive me..."

Christian's P.O.V

I feel my whole heart break, but put on my best fake smile, "Yeah, no, I understand! Don't be sorry! I... Can I drive you to the airport?" Tristan nods.

"Thanks so much for understanding. Thank you." She kisses my cheek, then continues talking, "I'm gonna pack... I've already started." She starts throwing everything into her bags, and taking them to her car while I sit on the couch, holding back tears.

"I-I'm going to bed." I choke out before running upstairs and sliding my back down my bedroom door. Tears start streaming down my face. I don't want to leave the room, so I start rummaging through my drawers for my secret stash. I finally find it, a small velvet box containing all my blades. There are four, all shiny and silver. Beautiful. I grab one and pull my sleeve up, instantly sliding the blade gracefully across, beads of blood trickling out.

Once I'm done, I wash the blade with some antibiotic wipes, and place the box at the bottom of my dresser.

After not being able to sleep on my bed, or my floor, or even the bathtub, I sigh and walk to Tristan, who's sitting awake on the kitchen floor. The first thing I know is wrong, is her voice. Her voice is hoarse as she speaks out loud, to herself. She's sitting on the floor. She is holding a knife. I listen in for a minute, curious what she'd be saying.

"So Tristan. You selfish bitch. You deserve this- I deserve this. You're leaving Christian! How could you do this to him? He's probably upstairs doing the same thing, and I'm packing stuff to leave him! Selfish. Here's another, for being selfish." She brings the knife to her wrist, and slides it across, sobbing quietly in pain. "Let's see here... Weak! Yes, weak. All it took was some stupid pictures to make you do this! It's been months since you've done this, and here you are! And everyone thought you were over it too! Lying. That's another. So two, for weak and lying!" She made two more cuts and I couldn't stand seeing her like this. "There has to be more... Ugly. You have nasty scars all over you. Your hair is frizzy. You are disgusting. So three. Ugly three times." Tristan presses the metal to her skin.

"Tristan, stop..." I whisper and she drops the knife, sitting still as a statue.

"Christian. I don't want you to see me like this. Please leave... Just... I'm almost done. Please go. Let me finish. Let me get cleaned up. I look bad." I sigh and tell her fine, walking up the stairs. I know I wouldn't want her making me stop in the middle of a good session.

Half an hour later, Tristan is curled up on the couch, and I'm there next to her, one arm placed around her waist. Soon enough, I fall into a dreamless sleep.