𝐵𝐴𝑅𝐵𝐼𝐸, 𝗺𝗶𝗱𝟵𝟬𝘀

𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝘀𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗻.

𝕚𝕣𝕚𝕤 - 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕘𝕠𝕠 𝕘𝕠𝕠 𝕕𝕠𝕝𝕝𝕤

☺︎︎

comforting someone was something fuckshit was never good at. he wasn't the compassionate, nor the sympathetic type.

when ray's brother had died, he didn't know what to do. he wanted to help, after all ray was his best friend, and best friend's were supposed to be there for each other. but he didn't know how to help.

he knew ray wouldn't want fuckshit to hug him and let him cry on his shoulder, so at least he was lucky for that. but he also knew everyone liked to be comforted with words. they wanted to hear things that made them feel better, wanted someone to tell them it was all going to be okay.

fuckshit wasn't good with words, and he didn't want to tell his best friend that everything was going to be okay when he didn't know if it really was. it was an empty promise to him, one that he wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of if it were him being comforted. 

so he did the only thing he could think of doing for ray, he dragged him out of his room that he had been sulking in, and made him skate. they stayed out all night until the sun came up again, and fuckshit didn't have to say a thing. ray thanked him later for it, and he was glad that he could help out his best friend when he was down.

that worked for ray, but he didn't have his board and he wasn't sure that'd work for jeslyn.

she was in the middle of the street, hunched over with her hands on her knees and breathing hard like there wasn't any air left in her lungs. he noticed the tears as he drew closer to her, running down her face in a continuous stream like they were never going to stop.

and fuckshit had no fucking idea how to help her.

and then he asked her the stupid fucking question that anyone asks when someone is sad.

"are you okay?"

he already knew the answer, could see it on her face, knew as he was running after her, of course she fucking wasn't okay.

jeslyn froze when she heard his voice. he wasn't supposed to see her like this, no one was supposed to see her like this. she was so good at hiding her emotions, so good at pretending she wasn't hurt.

she kept her eyes downcast, she didn't want to look at him. she wished she could disappear, she tried her best to do that already by running out here.

jeslyn didn't think anyone noticed her leave, or would care enough to go after her. apparently, fuckshit did both.

"i'm fine." she managed to speak between gasps. it was a lie, she knew it, and so did he. an automated response anytime someone uttered the three worded question.