PLL Preferences

Hurting

warning: sad preference because I'm sad and contrary to popular belief; im allowed to be. *gasps*

Jason- "Y/N! Jason's here!" your mom calls from downstairs. A groan escapes your chapped lips. They're chapped from not talking, eating, drinking or doing anything productive besides breathing.

Assuming your mom will send him up, you stay wrapped in your cocoon made out of blankets and pillows and sheets. The ends of your sleeves are wet from the pointless tears you have shed over the past couple of hours. Random spurts of crying have taken place. Random.

"Y/N?" Jason asks confused while stepping into your room. It seems like his energy should have been taken away, the color drained from his face and his smile wiped away because your room just has an aura filling it.

He walks over to the your bed where you have stayed for the past 3 days. You'd be surprised if you weren't permanently stuck to it. Your gaze is fixed on the rain that is hitting your window. "Baby?" he asks while nudging you.

"Hm?" you hum. It hurts to talk, to move, to breathe, to think. "What's the matter?" You don't want to pull Jason into this dark place you and him both struggle to climb out of so, you lie.

"I think I have a virus or something." you tell him. He sighs and begins running your back. His hand is so warm against your body someone could mistake you for being dead you're so cold.

"You're not warm at all." she smiles sadly. You know it hurts him to see you like this. You wonder why your mom would even let him enter your room. You don't have a response to Jason so you continue staring out the window at the rain, hoping you could somehow evaporate with it. You're already falling.

"What's the real reason you're like this?" he asks. A sigh escapes your lips and you feel it echo within you, bouncing off of each one of your ribs.

"Well, we'll just say I'm 'down in the dumps' because my mom refuses to believe that her daughter could ever be depressed." you croak, your voice barely audible.

He lays down next to you and you still feel dead. Usually, even the mere presence of Jason could make you feel free and happy and alive. But not now and that's what worries you. That's what causes your palms to become sweaty and your chest to feel likes its collapsing on itself. "I'm sorry." To be honest, you're shocked by his response.

Your mom just gives you advice and how to fix it-- which you love but sometimes, sometimes you just someone to sit down next to you and say, "That sucks."

For the first fine in awhile you turn over. You swear you can almost hear the creaking of your stuff limbs as if you were walking on a old, hard wood floor. "What?" you ask in disbelief.

"I'm sorry. It sucks, I know." he states. Suddenly, things start hitting you. Like really hitting you. You begin crying, no sobbing, and smiling and laughing at the same time. A sea of emotions has brought you under and you are letting it drown you. You're letting it fill your mouth with water until you are no longer able to breathe.

Jason just holds you. He knows that is what he needs to do. He knows that when you fall back into this dark and scary and empty place the only thing he needs to do is hold you until you find your way back.

Mike- It was another day at school. You wake up exhausted, go to school exhausted and come home exhausted. Your life was nothing special and maybe that was the root of the problem. You didn't do much. There wasn't much excitement. You're not asking to go somewhere every single night but you just want some variety.

You usually pick Mike up from school like you're doing today. You didn't mind it. You liked driving as much as you can. The roads of the neighborhoods of Rosewoods were really pretty this time of year, colorful. But the roads were so long and endless, just like your days.