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

chapter 2: five-hundred bucks

I sigh and sit down. Basically, I'm a writer (what a shocker, right?) But, not completely. I only start promt ideas for actual authors.
I sign in on my computer, go to the website, randomize the prompt, and..

'Write a prompt on...
a love story with a tragic death.'

My breath gets caught in my throat. "Great," I whisper to myself. I dont know how to even start writing an entry. My hands are shaking. Every word I write, I think of him. I think of his blood on the floor, my legs, my hands. I think of his hair getting messed up as I desperately tried waking him. I think of his eyes, the way they looked at me like he was begging me to not cry without words. I think of the knife, blood trickling off of it as he pulled it out of himself.
  Stop it.
"Jayden," a hushed voice calls. I flinch, and turn around. No one is there.
  I shrug, completely unfazed.. I realize that I've been staring at my keyboard beforehand, not a word typed.
  "Jayden!" that voice repeats.
  Wait. I hesitate becore replying to MYSELF, my voice barely a whisper, "Hey?"
  "Heyy!" the weird, annoying voice snickers. I realize that it's in my head because it feels like I have earbuds in every time I hear it. If it's in my head...
  My boss taps on my desk, "Jayden?"
I flinch. Thank god, maybe it was just him. "Yeah?" I reply, my voice nearly a whisper. My boss gestures for me to follow him. I do as told, and I stand up and follow. "What's up?" I ask as we walk into his office. I sit down across from where he sits at his desk. That voice is still ringing in my mind. It had to have been my boss. It couldn't have been him.
"..Um.." he seems hesitant. No. He IS hesitant. "Look.. kid.. I.. don't take this the wrong way, because you are one of our best—you make the best ideas out of everyone, but.."
I nod. "Thank you, sir.. wait."
This day could not get any worse.
"..are you firing me?" I ask in a whisper.
"Jayden, I don't—"
"Why—why are you firing me?"
"I've noticed you haven't been—"
"You—you said I-I was—"
"Please stop interrupting me."
I nod and shut up. I really need to control that; interrupting. Why am I so bad at that?
"..You haven't been focused. You seem stressed and anxious all the time, and I'm worried." He sighs and hands me 500 dollars. In cash. "Take.. take the time off, kid. Come back in a month."
My jaw is dropped. "You're.. paying me to go home?" I mean, not gonna lie, five-hundred bucks for being in a bad state of mind is pretty good, but Jordan has been paying most because I keep getting fired.
"You need.. you seem so.. You're so young, Jayden—"
"I'm 19. Sir, I-I need this job—"
"No, Jayden. You need a damn therapist." Now that catches me off guard. I lean back in my seat slowly, stammering, trying to find an argument to fight back. I find nothing.
"Just take the money," he continues, "and come back when things are better. I'll be happy to rehire you then."
I want to argue. I want to yell. I want to tell him about Jordan, about how she's been basically taking care of me. But it's no use. I also don't want to take 500 dollars from a guy just because he thinks I need it. It makes me feel like I'm taking the money.
"You don't have to pay me," I whisper.
"No, I don't have to. But I want to. Take the money, Jayden. I don't need it."
I'm not convincing him to keep his own money. I nod my head and stand, taking the money reluctantly. "..Thank you," I mutter out as I leave.

"What? Why do you need me to pick you up?"
I roll my eyes, kicking rocks on the sidewalk as I answer Jordan, "I just do. I don't want to talk about it." She'd be pissed if she knew what happened.
I hear her sigh. "Fine. You're lucky I'm on my lunch break. But you're paying me back for missing my lunch later. Subway."
  Subway is expensive to me. "Yeah, yeah, whatever," I reply with annoyance. I pull my phone down and hang up.
A few minutes later, Jordan's car is on the side of the rod. "Get in loser, we're goin' shoppin!" she refrences. I roll my eyes.
"Fuck off," I snap as I get in the passenger seat.
"Okay then!" Jordan scoffs, "still in a mood, I guess?" I don't reply. She sighs and starts to drive. After a moment, I think the silence starts bugging her because she can't keep those glossed up lips together.
"So.. why exactly are you going home?" she asks. I shrug. "Come oooon," Jordan teases, hitting my arm, which just annoys me, as she drives, "tell me."
I hesitate. "He just.. told me to go home.. That's all."
Jordan hesitates, "..Who is he?"
"...My boss," I muster.
"..He fired you?!" Jordan yells, slamming on the breaks on the curbside in front of our apartment, leaving us both flung forward again.
"Oh my god. Stop doing that, you fucking idiot!" I yell in annoyance.
"Jayden, what the hell?! That's.. what? The second, third time?! Fourth time??"
"Can you shut up?!" I ask.
"No! What the hell, Jayden?! I've been real nice to you about all this, but you can't just go around losing your jobs!"
I sigh in annoyance and unbuckle my seatbelt.
"The hell are you doing? You need to explain yourself. I'm not done."
"Well, I am," I interrupt as I unlock the door. Jordan locks it again as if I can't unlock it.
"You're not leaving."
I groan. I'll give her some hope I'll stay. "Okay, tell me what you want to hear then!"
"Accept the fact, that you need some goddamn help!"
"Just—I—why is EVERYONE saying I need help?!"
"Because we KNOW, Jayden! You think I haven't noticed your wrists?"
Right when I'm about to snap back, that last sentence settles in. That took a turn. A turn I didn't want.
"Did you really think I didn't know?" She sounds like she's gonna cry. I made my sister cry.
I stammer out some quiet inaudible words, but I can't find any words in my mind that make a sentence. I open the door, get out, close it, and start walking away. I don't care what she says. She can't.. She just.. she can't possibly have known this entire time. Not the whole time.
I hear her follow behind me when I get inside our apartment.
"You need to get to work," I mutter.
"You need to understand that," she grabs my wrist to stop me from leaving, "I'm worried! Jayden, you've lost so many jobs, you RARELY eat—if you thought I didn't notice—you never talk to me, you're always staying up late, you're always tired, and you're literally hurting yourself!"
I bite my tongue to not yank myself away, glancing at my wrist she's holding onto. Her grasp makes it feel as if the cuts underneath will break open, and it stings. "Let go of me."
She shakes her head, which kinda sucks for me. I notice tears in her eyes, and I start to feel bad. I'm being selfish. "No, Jayden," she falters, "Talk to me. Please."
For a moment, I don't know what to do. I used to always know what to do in situations.
"..Please just let go," I repeat. Jordan sighs and lets go of my wrist. She seems to stay silent for a second. She looks at me, then my wrist, then me again.
"Please, Jayden," she once again pleads. For understanding. For knowledge.
  Knowledge I'm not healed enough to process myself, let alone provide.
"...You.. your break is probably almost over," I say, avoiding her question to my fullest advantage and backing away a few steps. Seven steps, if you're into specifics.
Jordan hesitates. "You're right. We're talking about this when I get home." She backs up, turns around, and leaves.
I'm speechless. Did she give up on asking? Was she scared? What.. did she just not care? As much as I wanted her to stop asking, I'm left feeling hurt on how easy it was to get her to stop. Am I bad for thinking that? I was the one who made her go. I should just stop; I'm stressing her out more than myself. I sigh and sit down on the couch, pull out my phone, and scroll through it.

  And maybe something else.