•♡Should I stay or should I go?♡• Byler

Seventeen

      Will woke up, his head hurting like shit.
 
     He looked around, not realizing where he was.

     Then he remembered.

      The pain flowed through his body. It was his fault. It would always be his fault. It was his fault Jonathan had...

        "Will!" He heard his mother's voice come towards him as she hugged him. But no matter how much it relieved him to hear her voice, he couldn't bring himself to smile.

          How would he explain what had just happened if he could barely comprehend it himself?

          "Will? What's wrong, honey?" Will pulled back, realizing he was crying. No, he was sobbing.

            Hot tears fell as a knot came onto his throat.

              He choked on a sob. "I'm sorry...im so sorry." He hugged Joyce tightly.

             Joyce was the last person that Will could rely on.

            Two weeks. It had been two weeks.

            Will sat on his bed, crying.

            The world had seemed to stop on that day. It just wasn't worth doing anything anymore.

           He grabbed his notebook. Maybe he could draw. Drawing was his comfort after all. He started drawing his future self. Even if he had no motivation for what the future held. He drew the head, the body, the clothes, then the hair. That hair....

            Will stared at the paper. The haircut seemed familiar to him.

           Because it was Jonathan's haircut.

            Will looked at the paper so hopelessly.

              He stared. And stared. And stared. Jonathan. If only Will had never cut himself back there at that moment. If only he had waited. It was Will's fault he was....

               Will stopped. He hated the thought that Jonathan could be dead. There was no way. Jonathan was too strong.

                  But yet again, it had been two weeks.

                 Will grabbed the blade on his bed, and stabbed the paper. The drawing. He ripped it. Stabbed it. Turned it into pieces. Destroyed it.

                  He stared at the paper, full of tears. He had ripped the last piece that reminded him of his brother.

                  Will's tears fell even faster. What had he done to deserve this?

                   I'm such a fool. Such a mistake. Such a coward. A baby. I'm a stupid faggot, coward, and mistake.

                   Will saw he was caressing the knife in his hand. Perfect.

                   He begin to cut, cut on his wrists yet again. It hurt, a lot. But it hurt him more to live like this. So dying was better.

                   Just then, the door opened. It was El.

                  She looked like she had been crying too. In these two weeks that had passed, she had gotten her memories back.

                 She stared at Will, who was paralyzed in fear.

                 "Blood." No response. El looked at him confused, finally comprehending the situation a bit more. "Why would you hurt yourself?"