{Tyler}
I watched Cameron work out of the corner of my eye, unsure if I should bring up what I had previously said to him, but decided to shoot for it, when I noticed how tense he was, “Uh, I’m sorry…” I mumbled,
“Sorry for what?” Cameron looked me in the eye, making me feel how bad he was hurting.
“For saying that I don’t care about you… I didn’t mean it.” I looked away from him, and sighed,
“Oh.” He muttered,
“What?” I stole a glance, before realizing how overwhelming it was, and keeping my eyes focused on my hands,
“I just don't really believe you.”
“Oh.”
“I'm not sure why though…”
“Dylan, the rest of your old friends…” I raised an eyebrow, though he couldn't see,
“Yeah, maybe.” He frowned, “Why won't you look at me…?”
“Wh-What do you mean?” I looked at him for what felt like ages, but it clearly wasn't that long, because Cameron only sounded more upset,
“Like that. You looked at me for a split second before turning away quickly.” I felt his eyes burn into my back, but I refused to look at him, “Are you upset?”
“No.”
“Then why?”
“I just feel really… really guilty.” I sighed, “I said those things and then you just disappeared. It really freaked me out.”
“You know I didn’t leave because of you, right?”
“I know, but still. Holy god, it gave me so much anxiety.” I bent over and rested my head on the cold counter.
“I’m sor-“
“No, don’t say that. It was entirely my fault. I should be able to handle my emotions better.” I sighed,
“Yeah, but-“
“Don’t justify it, Cameron.” I looked over at him with pleading eyes, and he gave me a sympathetic look in return,
“Okay.”
“Thank you.” I smiled sheepishly, and rubbed the back of my neck, quickly looking away, “It helps a lot.”
“It does? How? Doesn’t it hurt when you’re told something like that?”
“Yeah, it does, but it’s helpful because it pushes me to fix myself.”
“Fix yourself? You aren’t broken, you just function a little different.”
“I sure as hell feel broken.” I trembled,
“I get that… but you have to mute that part of yourself. Tell it to shut up, and tell it that you are a good person, tell it that you’re important.”
“I am not important.” I scoffed, making him hug me from behind,
“Yes you are. You’re important to me, you’re important to Rae, and you’re so fucking important to Preston.”
“You don’t know if I’m important to Preston or Rae.”
“Maybe not with Rae, but I do know that you’re important to Preston.”
“No you don't.”
“Yeah, I kinda do. We talked, about you, last night, and he told me how much he cares for you.”
“Oh, um, o-”
“Tyler, we need to talk about something.” Preston burst in the room, seeming to be upset.
“Uh, okay.” I followed him out the door, until he stopped himself, and pulled, what I recognized to be my backpack, off of his shoulders,
“Why the hell do you still have these?” Tears built up in his eyes as he pulled out a package of cigarettes, and razor blades. “I thought you stopped.”
“I… I'm sorry.”
“Sorry doesn't cut it, Tyler! You've been lying to me! Since the eighth grade! Why?” He began to cry, making me claw into my arm,
“I… I didn't want to bother you with it anymore.”
“Bother me? Why would it bother me? When did I say that?”
“I-I don't know, Preston!” I sobbed, beginning to break down,
“Then why did you assume it? Do I act bothered?”
“I can't help it!”
“But you can!”
“I am not having this argument with you, give me my shit back!”
“No, because all you're going to do is cut, because you haven't learned how to handle your emotions like a sane person!” He screamed at me. I turned around, and banged my fist against the dumpster, causing it to scrape up, and bleed, while I began to walk away, “Don't walk away from me!”
Even though I had a strong urge to say something to him, I knew that later on, I'd only regret it, so I kept quiet by biting down on my lip, until it bled.
“Tyler!” Preston called, grabbing my wrist and yanking me backwards, “I'm not done talking.”
“Well that fucking sucks.” I glared, even though it wasn't as effective as I thought it'd be, thanks to my sobs,
“What is your problem?!”
“Fuck off!” I yelled, my voice faltering mid sentence. I pulled out of his grasp, and began to run,
I opened the plastic bag, pulling out the dinky pencil sharpener, and screw driver. Quickly, I unscrewed the blade, put the other pieces of the sharpener on the ground, and set the screwdriver down next to it.
I rolled up a pant leg, and examined the previous cuts, before slashing away at areas that were bare, or simply scarred, which wasn't very many. As I saw blood begin to trickle out, I began to smile, satisfied with my work.
In a way, I knew Preston was right. No one who is mentally stable would cut themselves, and enjoy it, but I know I'm not insane.
When I was out of places to cut on both of my legs, I moved to my arms. My arms still looked fucked, but it definitely wasn't as bad as my legs were.
Within minutes, my arms were drenched in blood, so I leaned back against the brick of the grocery store, taking deep breaths to try and stabilize myself.
Usually I'd just smoke a cigarette, and that would help, but I wasn't eighteen yet, which meant I wasn't able to buy any, and since I didn't live with my dad anymore, I couldn't hijack any, without getting into legal trouble.
“Um, are you okay?” A man with dark brown skin, which matched his equally as brown eyes, and black hair, that was molded into a bowl cut, asked, as he leaned against the old sofa that I had hid behind,
“Yeah.”
“Really?”
“No…” I sighed, knowing that I would never see him again.
“What's going on that made you do… this?” He raised an eyebrow,
“Just an argument with a friend, and addiction.” I confessed, as he took a seat next to me,
“What were you arguing about?”
“This,” I raised an arm, “and smoking. I told him I stopped when I was thirteen, but he dug through my bag, and found them.”
“And you're how old?”
“Seventeen.”
“Well, I see why they'd get mad. That's four years.”
“Yeah, I understand that, but… He didn't have to tell me I'm insane, because I'm not. I'm just some depressed addict.” I tugged my hair,
“Is there anything I can do?”
“All I want is a damn lighter, and a pack of cigarettes, so probably not.” I shook my head,
He pulled himself up, “Alright, stay put.” I watched him enter the store, before quickly coming out with a package of cigarettes and a lighter, which he tossed on my lap,
“Thank you.”
“Try and work on fixing things up with your friend though, okay?” He advised, while walking away,
“Yeah, I will.” I nodded, while I lit up a cigarette,
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