dear you || why don't we

Dear you, 87

"Ah, there you guys are," Noah smiled at them, gesturing for them to sit on the small bed against the wall. "So, what we are gonna do now, Corbyn, is let you undress and make sure there has been no more self harm in the past day," The teen bit down on his bottom lip, a sign of anxiousness that radiated off of his body quite easily.

"It's nothing to be scared of, honey. You're beautiful in every way," Shawn pecked his cheek with a smile, seeing Corbyn let go of his bottom lip, having drawn the littlest of blood, a shy smile forming with his lips. "I will go first if you want to, so you can see everything that occurs," Corbyn nodded and Shawn stood up with a smile, he had done this at least a thousand times, if not more, he didn't actually know how long he had been in the facility and how much longer his stay was going to be.

The brunet felt the tingles in his stomach, he knew Noah would be mad at him. Shawn lifted his shirt over his head, it sliding down his arms as Noah took it from him, already frowning at the new lines he saw. "Pants down, too," He spoke without many emotion, following the many, just carved, lines on Shawn's arms; it had to have been done yesterday night, or this morning.

Noah took the file from his desk, seeing how many lines there were in the last 'gone wrong' checkup. "That's sixteen more," Noah sighed softly when he counted, his hand cupping Shawn's cheek softly. "No leaving your room, until i say so," The brunet nodded, looking down at his feet; he knew Noah would be mad, if not disappointed, with him, but still he let the blade carve through his skin— it relieving the pain he felt, but only for seconds.

"Come on, muffin," Noah spoke gently, gesturing for Shawn to stand on the scale to weigh him. "You're hundred-eighty-four centimeters, so eighty kilograms is good. Good job on that," Shawn smiled, at least he did something right. "Okay, then i'm done with checking on you, but we need to talk after this. Now, Corbyn, do you want him to stay, or go?" The blond looked up at the mention of his name, seeing Shawn start to dress himself again. "I want him to stay," The small voice was heard loud enough, even though it was said just above a whisper. Noah nodded, holding his hand out for Corbyn to take.

"It's okay, lovely, we're not going to judge you," Corbyn hesitantly rose the warm sweater, that hung loosely around his figure, over his head. "Since this is your first check, we're going to have to count the lines. Is that okay with you?" The blond looked down, shrugging, he didn't have anything to say. He slid the sweatpants off of his legs, more lines visible to their eyes. "That's thirteen scars and eight recently carved," Noah mumbled to himself, writing the information down in Corbyn's file.

"Come on, we have to weigh you now," Noah smiled, even though he could see the outline of Corbyn's ribs clearly through the skin. "You're height is hundred-seventy-three centimeters and you weigh forty-eight kilograms. You're underweight," He let those words sink in, before he continued, but all Corbyn wanted was his clothes covering his body again. "And that's why we will have someone, most likely me, get you enough food and have you eat every meal, until there's nothing left on your plate," Corbyn nodded at him, turning to quickly get his shirt and pants on again. He slid on the shirt, it covering himself to the middle of his thighs, before he pulled the sweatpants up his legs with an inaudible sigh.

"You can wait outside for a minute, Corbyn, i have to talk to Shawn and then you can leave together," "Okay," The reply went almost unheard, but both Shawn and Noah smiled at him when the door closed.

"How did your talk with Noah go?" Corbyn questioned, curious to the answer in the silence that caused his boredom; both him and Shawn had been in their room all day— Corbyn was not going to leave him. "Okay, i guess. He didn't say it, but i know he's disappointed. I can't help it, though. He doesn't know the feeling, but you do. And you get me in a way he doesn't," The blond nodded at the words, hearing the loud bell ring, indicating it was time to go to their rooms and get ready for bed; but both boys had already been ready an hour ago.

"So you just stay in your room all day, now?" Corbyn questioned, turning his head on his pillow to look at Shawn's figure; he tried to hide it, but his obvious tears were visible to Corbyn— even with the distance between the two beds. "Yeah, he said for a week and go to therapy everyday. He just doesn't get it, Corbs. This is not 'healing' us, it's just more opportunity to close ourselves from the outside world," With a knock their conversation was disturbed, the door opening and Noah being in their sight.

"Hey, i got the book you really wanted," He spoke silently, walking towards the blond and setting his journal down on the bed with a pen. "Thank you," "Goodnight, you guys," Noah walked over to Shawn, placing a kiss on his forehead. "I'm sorry, it's the rules, muffin. I love you," Shawn turned around without a sound, hearing Noah's sigh and his footsteps when he walked out of the room, closing the door softly.

"Goodnight, honey," Corbyn smiled, taking his journal in his hands as he said his goodnight back to Shawn, pen in hand. "Goodnight, Shawn,"

Sunday, June thirtieth 2019

Dear diary,

It's been a few days. Honestly, i don't like it here. I want to go outside, but they're not allowing us to, because they think we will try to escape. I just want to go home. I miss Daniel's bed. I miss their huge ass garden. I miss mr. Seavey, even though he put me here. But most of all, i miss Daniel and Jonah. I want to go home and lay in their arms. It's lonely at night.

Corbyn Matthew

wc: 1821.