pretty brown eyes (a 3rd part to 'boyfriends ^^' but it's better grammar!!!)

chapter I: car ride

Blood soaked the floor as I desperately tried keeping my boyfriend awake. I stared into those pretty brown eyes, begging for them to not close.
But they did.
Blood fell from the boy's chest and his body went limp in my arms. I watched the boy with the pretty brown eyes die in my arms.
In my head, that moment repeats, and repeats, and repeats.. blood, knife, one last look at those pretty brown eyes, again. Blood, knife, another look at those pretty brown eyes..
I gasp and open my eyes. A ceiling.
Wow, great. Nightmares are giving me heart attacks now, aren't they?
  Y'know, I wouldn't care if a heart attack killed me.
I roll onto my side in my messy bed, hugging a teddy bear and staring at the photos on my nightstand. Two boys eating ice cream, and they're laughing their asses off. The picture was taken by the brunette boy's sister, my sister, Jordan. We don't exactly talk about the other boy. Wait no. I don't talk about him. I never talk about him.
Speaking of my sister, about three months ago, Jordan tried to help me afford a phalloplasty surgery, but remembered it was over 16,000 and she doesn't have the money for that. I'm okay with that in a way. I'm still a guy, even though I go through daily torture; sitting on the toilet to piss, not seeing a dick in the shower, and not getting boners. Well, who would even give me one at this point?
  Aside from my dyshoric urge for a dick, Jordan wants me to go to therapy. For other reasons. Well, mainly to talk about him; about everything that's happened. But I know no one would believe anything. I don't want to anyway. I tell her I don't need to. That's a lie, though. Ever since the incident six months ago, I can barely think straight. I crashed my car because I zoned out while driving, I hasntven't gotten good sleep in forever, I somehow forget to eat, and I've been fired from 3 jobs for being shit at paying attention.
...God dammit.
I have work today. I stand up, opening my closet and skimming through the clothes to find what to wear. Of course, I choose a green hoodie and ripped jeans that are 10x more ripped than they were when I bought them. I fluff my hair up with my hands and throw on a beanie. Jordan is probably pissed. Since I don't have a goddamn car, I have to ride with her. I'm probably making her run late right now. Not my fault. Well, yes it is. Maybe I shouldn't have stayed up until three in the morning distracting myself by jerking off to stop being depressed.
Whatever. Before I leave, I pick up a ring on my nightstand and put it on.
"Took you long enough. And, why the hell are you wearing long sleeves in 80 degree weather?" Jordan laughs fakely as she leans against the door.
"Please shut up," I mumble as I grab my shoes, pushing them on without ACTUALLY tying them. I'll tie them in the car. I push my sleeves down over my palms. I grab my wallet.
Jordan replies, "Geez, someone's grumpy today. You look like you haven't slept." She looks at my sleeves. "Are you in your Ariana Grande phase or something? Maybe I should expect a slick-back ponytail next with a side part?" Jordan puts her hand in my brown, blonde highlighted hair and ruffles it. My hair did have green highlights, but they faded. I groan and push her hand away.
  "Just stop. Can we PLEASE just go? You're being annoying or whatever."
Jordan laughs at me. "Okay, okay, whatever!" she says as she opens the door and walks out. I follow behind. Once we get in the car, we're both silent. I pull out earbuds and put only one in my ear, turning on a specific playlist.
"So," Jordan starts, and I immediately roll my eyes at the sound of her voice, if it wasn't obvious I'm in a bad mood, "Jayden.. DID you sleep well? Your eyes are more droopy than normal."
Well, talk about something ELSE that should be obvious. Also, thanks for the indirect insult. I know I look like shit. More than I usually do. I don't answer. Silent treatment always works. Right?
  She pokes my arm. Ouch. "Heyy?"
  Maybe it doesn't always work.
  I sigh. It's not that I want to be mean; I hate being mean. I just.. don't want to talk. "No, I couldn't sleep."
Jordan keeps her eyes on the road, deathly unresponsive for a good minute. I watch as her long, red acrylics tap the wheel. How does she even do anything with those? Did she sacrifice wiping her damn ass for those things? Wouldn't be surprised. She does anything to look good. Maybe I should start trying on my looks. Would that make me any more of a pretty boy like I wanna be?
  "Why?" she asks. I'm usually not a pain in the neck—neck because somehow she's not hurting her neck turning her head that far to look at me while looking at the road—for her, so she must detect something's wrong.
I shrug, trying to get my mind off the topic of "How do people wipe with such long ass nails?" because it's actually disturbing me. "I just couldn't." That's a lie, but it's okay. She's used to my bullshit.
"So, it has nothing to do with him? I mean, Noa—"
"No," I answer sharply, interrupting her. Alright, it's getting annoying. "It has nothing to do with him."
"Are you sure? I mean, you cared a lot about No—"
"Don't talk about him around me."
She sighs, and seems to try changing the subject as if her voice will de-irritate itself, "You know, you're different. Quieter. And you're always shaking. What's up with that?"
"Shaking?" I ask. I look down at my hands. Jordan is right. My hands are shaking. Because I don't wait to accept that I'm mentally fucked, I start making excuses to myself: I haven't eaten lately. I'm tired. I'm just anxious as hell. Maybe I'm sick.
"Yeah," Jordan pauses, as if she's trying not to piss me off, "You're different. You never talk to me, you barely leave your room... And you're usually way nicer than this. Are you okay?"
I roll my eyes in annoyance, but I continue to look down at my hands. I'm sweating, too. "Yeah. I'm fine."
Jordan sighs. "Don't lie."
I shake my head. "I'm not lying, Jordan."
Jordan presses the breaks in the middle of the parking lot to my work, which she does a little too hard, and we both fall forward a bit. "Sorry," she mutters, locking the car doors, "but you're not going inside until you talk to me."
Again, I shake my head. "I'm fine."
"I won't judge you, Jayden. It's normal to—"
"I'm fine!" I raise my voice.
"No, you're not! You're quiet, you're acting like someone you're not, and no one should be fine after the love of their life dies, Jayden! You spent every day with him! There's no way he means nothing anymore."
I don't reply. I'm staring into her eyes, shocked. I want to ask why the hell she'd say that. But, I know it's true. There's no point in arguing over something I know the right side to.
  "Please. Talk to me."
I unlock my door and get out. I slam it shut.
I hear Jordan yell my name, and turn around. She pulls down the window.
"I'll see you at three."
I turn around and walk away, feeling a little guilty for being like that. I should say sorry, but I'm already inside.