I'm fine, until I'm not.

Don't Let Me Go

Authors Note: Graphic description of Suicide, Self Harm, Self Hatred lie within this chapter. Please read at your own discretion, and please remember to be safe in all that you do. <3

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The next few days didn't get any better, perhaps arguably worse than before. I had been running off of 2-3 hours a sleep a night, which wasn't too out of the ordinary except that I was doing it for close to a week now as opposed to the simple one or two off days I was used to. After having a similar dream the second night in a row, I was reluctant to try and sleep, and opted for power naps, no more than 1 hour at a time, and anything that contained large, perhaps excessive, amounts of caffeine to keep me going.

I thought i had been doing a good job at hiding both the erratic sleeping pattern I had adopted, as well as the nightmares that had forced me to, but there was always a look of worry in Jerome's eyes when he saw me, as well as a hesitation as if he wanted to help but couldn't. I hated it, but felt stuck between a rock and a hard place at the moment with no clear decision of which one to smash myself into.

I pulled myself out of my thoughts, reaching across the shower to turn the heat up, wanting to make the room hot enough to where the mirror would fog up. I couldn't afford to cover the whole mirror with Jerome around, but I couldn't find the nerve anymore to use the mirror anymore, not even in passing. I sighed loudly, leaning my back against the cold tile of the shower while the hot water in contrast burned across my body, leaving my normally pale skin a bright pink. After several minutes, I finally stepped out the shower and began to quickly run through my routine before the mirror could defog.

I was running a dry towel through my hair, my motions something akin to frantic, when I heard a soft, borderline hesitant, knock on the door. I quirked an eyebrow soundlessly at the door, usually Jerome wouldn't knock on the door when he knew I was in the restroom. "Yes?" I said, effortlessly putting a chirp into my voice to cover my tiredness.

"Hey Mitch, Ryan needs some help moving a couch in so I'll be back in a few hours." He paused before continuing. "Maybe we can record Hunger Games when I get back."

My chest tightened briefly, almost foreboding, before quickly releasing. "Alright, sounds good Biggums. Don't hurt your hand moving that thing." I called back through the door, now slipping on a pair of boxers and shorts before pausing in my motions. "Hey Jerome?" I paused for a moment, wondering if he had left, but a short cough on the other side of the door confirming he hadn't left. "Um, have you heard from Lachlan since then?" I asked, my voice quiet and worried, but taking care to still be audible through the door.

"Sorry Mitch, but I still have heart from him." I stayed silent, trying to figure out my next sentence- when did I become so hesitant and withdrawn? "But I'm sure he is going to come around eventually Mitch, I promise."

"You're right, thanks G." I said, faking my optimissum. He hummed, sounding just as convinced, before walking away. I sighed, finishing pulling on my clothes, shouting a final goodbye as he yelled once more about his departure before leaving the house, our front door shutting causing a tremor to shake the house.

I hesitated at the doorway, feeling a familiar prickle on the back of my neck. I hissed sourly, flicking the lights off and walking forward of the room, shutting the door with a definitive click.

I slowly made my way to our kitchen, a familiar pang in my stomach urging me to find something to eat. I flipped the lights on, padding toward the fridge and opening the doors only to be disappointed that the only thing in there were a few expiring vegetables and some milk. Guess that what happens when you let two young guys live together, nobody wants to go grocery shopping. I thought glumly before finally grabbing the milk.