spinning webs

caught in the middle

['Warren, please, I'm worried about you.'

'I'm coming over.']

Warren jolted, blinking at the screen.

['no, odnmt come o ver i' m fine']

There was no immediate response, so the blond set his phone down and took a moment to observe himself in the mirror. Dark, heavy bags were settled under his eyes, which were red from crying and being rubbed roughly. His grey irises shone, glimmering with the hint of unfallen tears. Nearly-white blond hair settled near his jaw, where a trace of stubble was beginning to show. The ends were knotted together, having been pulled and yanked and hands run through all night long.

Warren glanced about the bathroom counter, gaze catching on a hair tie. He grabbed the elastic and quickly tied his hair up at the top of his head, small pieces sticking out at random. Another glance at his reflection showed he still didn't look nearly close enough to 'fine' as he'd said in his text, but he knew there wasn't much else he could do. Carefully, he made his way back towards his bedroom, tidying up the paper and pen on his desk and gently taking the glass in hand. He walked slowly to the kitchen, placing the glass in the sink as he heard a noise from down the hall. He made his way to the bathroom again, glancing down to see his phone's screen still lit up.

[Two new messages: Jordan]

['Bullshit.'

'I'll be at your place in five minutes.']

['no pelase im fine you dont have t o come']

['Like hell you're fine.']

Warren couldn't argue it, and he sighed, trying to run his hands through his hair and mussing the already messy ponytail he'd pulled up. I know I'm not fine, but I don't want this. I can't deal with this right now. I have to be alone. Without a second thought, the blond walked to his door and clicked the lock, then went about the apartment and shut the blinds, as well as turning off any remaining lights or electronics. The stereo was still running, and had stopped playing due to the playlist running out of songs. I wonder how many I missed, Warren pondered for a moment as he clicked it off.

He returned to his room, phone in his pocket, and chanced a glimpse at his desk, still seeing the paper and pen there. The anger that had arisen earlier had since subsided, and he looked dejectedly at the ruined sheet on the desk. He tried to read it over, but the words were so horribly scrawled; the tear stains and rips in the page didn't help in deciphering what was written there. He knew what he'd wanted to say, though, the thoughts swimming in his head. He took a look at the first few words, and the general idea of what he'd intended to write came back, slowly, and in pieces. He thought it out, and it read something like...

"I'm sorry. I know this is sudden, but I want you to know that I'm okay. I know I make dumb decisions sometimes, that I'm not the brightest or smartest all the time, but I promise that I'm okay. What's not okay is how much of a burden I am--to you, anyone around you, and everyone I know. I want to apologize.

I'm sorry. I know that I'm troublesome, and cause worry in near everyone I meet. I know that all I do is complain and whine, I know. I'm sorry. I didn't want it to be like this, but I've had enough. Again, I'm going to say that I may not be sober, but I am not going to do anything brash. I'm disappearing. I'm going away. I don't want to go, and I love you all so much, but I've had enough. I've fought it for so long, and I've made my choice. I'm going away. I'm not coming back.

I'm tired of feeling like a burden. I know this is going to hurt-believe me, it's killing me. I hope that this makes things better. What a useless endeavor if it didn't, huh? Just like everything else I do...  I'm tired of feeling like I can't trust anyone. I should be proud, and strong, but I'm weak. I'm lonely and sad and afraid. I'm afraid of being abandoned. I know it's shitty, I know it's not the right thing to do, but it's what I've decided I'm going to do.

I've been told that I deserve everything I've worked for, and everything I've been given. That I deserve nothing but the best in everything I do, deserve nothing but the best in general, but I'm not sure I can believe it. I know that everyone makes mistakes, but I feel like mine are constantly being pushed aside, like it's never a big deal. I guess I took it upon myself to criticize my actions.

I'm sorry. I'm rambling.

I'm leaving. I don't know when, or if this will reach you before. But I've made up my mind. I have to leave everyone, because I know it will be for the best in the end. No one wants extra bags to carry around that are filled with useless junk. Well, that's why I'm going. I'm just a weight pulling all my friends, if they even consider me a friend rather than some sad-sack they pity, and I don't want to be that anymore. I'd rather pull myself down than drown those around me who try to save me.

I know there must be a better way, or a solution. I'm tired of looking. I'm tired of thinking. I hope you all have lovely, wonderful lives without me. I'm sure they'll be brighter without this dark cloud hanging over you all the time, haha...

I love you.

Goodbye.

     -W. Stone"

Admittedly, it wasn't a great explanation, but he was never the greatest with words. His foul, depressed mood wasn't helping him either, nor was the unnecessary booze in his system. Certainly, he'd have a rough time the next morning, likely a headache and some body pain. I deserve it, though, He chided himself, laughing in a self deprecating tone. I deserve every shortcoming that comes my way. I've been dealt my cards, and now it's time to show my hand and reveal what a useless, unworthy sack of-- His voice was cut off by an odd sensation in his leg. Am I really that drunk? Am I passing out? What is this??

It took a moment to realize, but his phone was ringing. He pulled it from his pocket, glancing at the screen.

[3 New Messages: Jordan]

['Warren, I'm here.'

'Let me in.'

'Warren, please, I swear to God, please answer me.']

There was also a new missed call. His finger hovered over the option to call back, but he stopped himself. No. I'm done, right? I'm cutting myself out of the equation. He affirmed his answer to himself with a short head-nod before flopping back onto his bed. The soft, cool sheets welcomed him gently, pulling him in closer. He escaped their tempting clutches, and quickly removed his clothes, sparing himself no time to look in a mirror and add self-loathing on top of the already mixed bag of negative emotions that was his head. He buried himself under the covers, and was out before he could imagine what he'd dream of.

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AN: the conversation about deserving the best [in everything [i] do] was actually said to me by a friend while i was writing this chapter ;w;'