Elliot

One

The wind howls loudly on the windowpane. I felt my eyes opening. I was tired. I didn't know what time it is, but I think it's past midnight. Or past past midnight.

I made myself cozy on the big bean bag that I'm sleeping at. It was beside Tobias's bed that's only a few inches away. The blanket that I was using was on the floor. I reached out for it and glanced on Tobias' bed.

Tobias wasn't sleeping. He was leaning in the headboard. He was looking up.

"Hey," I said. Then he looked at me.

"Hey."

"Why aren't you asleep?"

"I can't."

"Something bothering you?"

"You could say that."

There was silence. I put the blanket on my lap, trying to warm my freezing legs. It was so cold that night. Cold. So, so cold.

"You look comfy there." Tobias said. He was grinning.

"Yeah, this bean bag is hella huge. Where did you even get this?"

"Amazon."

I snickered. "Classic." I snuggled myself backwards to the bean bag and crossed my arms. I let out a shaky breath.

"Cold?"

"A bit." I said.

Tobias stood up from his bed and lowered the temperature of his AC. The wind continues to make noise. He went back to bed, but he didn't go back to sleep. He leaned on his headboard again and looked up.

Why was he looking up? I wonder what is he thinking about. We all have our own thoughts. I looked up, there was nothing but his white colored ceiling, then I looked back to him.

"What are you thinking about?" I said.

"Stuff." He sounded sad.

"Is it bothering you so much?"

"I guess so."

"Is it the reason why you can't sleep?"

"Yeah," he whispered.

"Do you want to talk about it?" He thought for a moment. I waited for his answer. The wind made a noise again. Then he lowered his head.

"Okay," he said. He looked at me. "You can ask."

"Okay. Why do you punch walls?"

He was fidgeting with his fingers. "To feel pain."

"Why do you want to feel pain?"

"'Cause maybe, I thought, I could be okay."

"What's the reason why you're not okay?"

"Stuff."

"Stuff?"

"Stuff."

The wind howls again. We were both silently looking at each other. I wanted to ask more but I didn't know what to ask. Talking is not what I'm good at. I prefer to listen.

He glanced away and looked at his knuckles. His bruised knuckles that indicates agony and anger and sadness. I wonder what is he thinking about. "Don't you ever get hurt?" I asked.

"That's the purpose, Elliot. To get hurt," he said. "But you get used to it somehow."

"Since when were you hurting yourself?"

He breathed. "Sixteen."

Sixteen. That is horrible. That is really fucking horrible. I couldn't even imagine this when I first met Tobias. His jolly-smiley face, his frisky remarks, his contagious laugh, his weirdness, all of it were a mask.