So. I was listening to Atl's cover of True Colors, plus my heart has a ton of emotions at the moment, so it resulted in this sappy oneshot. Enjoy.
Jack's POV: **TRIGGER WARNING**
The most frustrating feeling in the world is feeling distance develop between you and the one you care about most, but you've tried everything with no success to fix things.
Alex and I have been dating for almost a year. We graduate high school fairly soon, so that means we'll be able to move in together. That is, if we don't break up before then. I know it's extremely unhealthy to think about that, but, lately, it had been the only thing on my mind.
He and I would spend extensive time together, but now, we barely see each other in the halls at school. He shut himself off. At first, I thought something was wrong, but now, I'm convinced he just lost feelings for me. In all honesty, it might be best if we just break up.
I grab my keys and walk into the crisp Saturday night air, getting into my car. I pull out of my driveway, deciding to go see Alex. He barely responds to texts, anyway. We have a lot to talk about, and it would be better done in person. I love him so much, and I don't want to end things with him unless I need to.
I park on the side of the road, approaching his front door. His parents usually go out on Saturday nights, so I can easily slip into the house using the key under the doormat. I enter the silent house, wondering if he was still awake. I close the door behind me, tip-toeing up the staircase that I used to walk up and down on a near-daily basis. I don't knock before opening his bedroom door.
I'm not sure if I wish I would've knocked or not because nothing could have prepared me for what I saw next.
Alex, my Alex, was sitting against his wall in the very dimly lit room, knees brought up to his chest, body shaking, head down, eyes squeezed shut. He was breathing as fast as someone who had just sprinted. On his face, I could see teardrops shine on his cheeks.
That's not the only thing that shone in the limited light.
There's something shiny in his hand.
I don't have to think twice to know what it is.
I rush over to him, taking the small object from his hand and throwing it all the way across the room, hearing it hit the wall and fall to the ground. He snaps his head up, looking at me with the widest, most petrified pair of eyes I've ever seen. I take his hand in mine, turning it over to look at his wrist. As I'd expected, blood is still seeping from the wounds.
In my panicked state, I rush to the bathroom and grab toilet paper, running back and pressing it against the wounds gently. He hisses in pain, but I need to stop the bleeding.
How had I not noticed? In hindsight, I remember him wearing long sleeves on a daily basis, the smile that no longer had the same livelihood behind it, and the way he averted his eyes to avoid eye contact. Why didn't I piece it all together?
"Why didn't you tell me?" I blurt out, my voice barely a whisper.
"I couldn't," he cries, still shaking. I keep one hand pressed to his wrist while I wrap my other arm around him in an awkward hug, rubbing his back in hopes it would calm him. "I wanted to, but I just couldn't get myself to do it. I thought you'd hate me. You probably do hate me, and I don't blame you for breaking up with me over this. Who would want to stay with a fuck-up like me, anyway?"
"Alex, stop," I say sternly, not being able to hear any more of his nonsense. "Do you really think that I'm going to leave you over this?" He locks his watery eyes on mine, nodding ever so slightly. "You couldn't be any more wrong. Alex, I'd travel through Hell and back as many times as it took if it meant I could be with you."
