Don't Let Go

Chapter 5

"I just want to understand." I said, innocently.

"I don't even understand." he whispered so quiet that I don't think I was supposed to hear it.

"I mean it can't be that hard to understand!" I said standing up. Tristan's eyes followed me.

"You're like a golden boy. You have everything any guy could possibly want! What messed you up?" I asked, shaking my head.

"Why do you think I'm messed up?" he asked, frowning.

"No - not like that." I sighed, my energy fading. "I just mean - who hurt you? What happened?" I pleaded with him.

"Nothing." he whispered, in a way that I knew it was most definitely not nothing.

"Tristan." I said quietly. "You have to talk to someone. Anyone." I said firmly.

"But you will destroy yourself if you just keep it in." I stated, wondering when I had become a certified psychologist.

"I'm fine Hannah." he said, trying to convince himself and me.

"When I asked you if you wanted to die you said 'I don't know.'" I said quietly. "People who are 'fine' don't say that."

"Oh God, I should have never said anything." he whispered, putting his face into his hands.

"No!" I said dramatically. "I'm glad you did." I closed my eyes. Tristan didn't say anything.

"I know you said that you don't want a shrink - but the reality is - you need one." I finished.

"I don't." he argued.

"Yes you do. And I don't care if you hate me for it but I'm not walking on eggshells around you anymore. You need help and you need help now." I said with confidence. I picked up the phone, unsure of exactly who I was going to call.

"Hannah please don't." Tristan pleaded.

"Give me one reason not to." I whispered.

"I'll kill myself. And it'll work this time." he said. I gasped.

"You're so messed up." I said, taking a step back from him.

"Why are you backing up?" he took a step closer.

"Are you scared of me?" he almost laughed at the thought.

"Tristan what's wrong with you?" I asked, growing impatient.

"No-thing." he stressed the two syllables. 

"Then why do you want to kill yourself?" I asked, frustrated and wide-eyed.

"Why are you asking me to live?" he glared back.

"What?" I didn't understand.

"You heard me." he said through his teeth.

"What's so great about this place - that I have to stick around?" he asked, angrily. I was surprised. I had no answer. 

"Exactly." he breathed.

"You can't just quit." I fought back.

"So things are hard? You'll live through it!" I pointed out. His eyes flashed into mine as he smiled insincerely.

"But I don't want to live through it!" he exclaimed.

"You can't quit." I pushed.

"Yes I can." he said shakily.

"It's not fair. It's not fair to the people around you. It's not fair to yourself." I said, tears rising in my eyes.

"How is it fair to make me live?" he asked. I stared into his worn out face.

"I don't - I don't understand." I closed my eyes and shook my head.

"If I'm not happy, how is it fair to make me keep living?" he asked sincerely.

"If everyone, who is unhappy, killed themselves, there would be too few people left." I pointed out.

"The point is to live through the bad times to get to the good times." I finished weakly. He tilted his head and his brown eyes locked with mine. They were dark, dangerous, but weak all at the same time.

He shook his head and looked down.

"Come on." I said quietly to him, gesturing for him to follow me. I walked upstairs, passed my room and to a guest room. I opened the door and turned on the lights, gesturing for Tristan to come inside the room.

"What?" he asked.

"You're sleeping here tonight." I stated.

"No, I have to go." he said, turning back towards the door. I blocked it. 

"If you think I'm letting you out of my sight tonight, you're crazy." I said firmly.

"Go." I said, gesturing to the bed.

"Hannah - I'm not staying." he pressed. I tilted my head and folded my arms. He sighed.

"Well are you waiting for me to strip down?" He looked at me and smirked. How did this kid go from suicidal to horny teenage boy?

"I told you, I'm not letting you out of my sight." I said. He rolled his eyes and took off his t-shirt. He left his sweatpants on and got under the blanket.

"Are you happy now?" he asked. I looked at him. I wasn't going to be happy until he was happy. But I didn't tell him that.

"Yup." I said, insincerely. I plopped down on the couch by the bed.

"What are you doing?" he frowned, turning to lie to down on his side and staring at me.

"Not letting you out of my sight." I repeated for the third time.

"So you're just going to stay awake and stare over me for the rest of my life?" he asked, sarcastically. I raised my eyebrows. I shrugged.

"Promise me you won't hurt yourself." I whispered.

"I can't promise that." he said matter-of-factly.

"Promise me, you won't hurt yourself tonight." I tried again. He looked into my eyes, and I felt him reading me. It was almost uncomfortable, how vulnerable I felt.

"Okay." he said finally. I stretched my hand out towards him, extending my pinky.

"What are you doing?" he frowned.

"Pinky promise." I said. He raised his eyebrows.

"Really?" he asked.

"You can't break a pinky promise." I said with a weak smile. He studied me once more. Then he lifted his hand and linked his pinky with mine. 

"I pinky promise." he whispered, as our pinkies were linked. His eyes locked with mine for a long time. Slowly, he weakened his pinky and I did the same. We both pulled away.

It was a silly gesture, but it felt real.

"Good night Tristan." I whispered.

"Good night Hannah." he replied softly.