funeral boy

prologue

IN CELEBRATION OF THE NEW STITCHES VIDEO HERE IS THE PROLOGUE WHICH SOME OF YOU HAVE ALREADY READ

ALSO

IF ANY OF YOU SAY "SHAWN WOULD NEVER SAY THAT" OR "SHAWN IS SO INNOCENT THIS ISNT LIKE HIM AT ALL" PLEASE DIRECT YOURSELF TO THE DISCLAIMER WHERE I STATE THE FOLLOWING:

this story is completely fiction. all the characters and events were created by me, and are in no way true. the shawn mendes in this book is portrayed by the real shawn mendes; however, they are in no way related, or affiliated with each other whatsoever.

OKAY READ ON FAM

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"The world is just so fucked up, you know?" He commented.

"Yeah. I know." I replied. I didn't even scold him for his cursing. In this moment it was just me and him. That was how I liked it best.

It was 3 AM and the two of us were sitting outside, lying in the grass with a cigarette between my lips and a thumb between his. Biting his nails had always been an anxious habit. My pale complexion didn't tan from the summer air, and the warm weather didn't compliment my hair; humid storms coming and going like the autumn wind and old loves.

As I went in for another drag, his strong hand reached toward the box, only to be swatted away by my frail one. I shot him a look, silently telling him he wasn't allowed to smoke and he only shrugged.

Our friendship was a strange one. I knew his inhumane habits and let him believe I didn't. He knew my peculiar family and didn't say a word on the matter.

My short brown hair just about reached my shoulders at that time, and my newly cut bangs grazed my forehead in an unfamiliar manner. I was aching to push them back but constantly waited until the feeling subsided. My drunken friends had decided cut my hair during a party that took place a few hours before Shawn and I met up in his back garden.

Shawn said he liked my hair and I didn't reply, only lit another cigarette and looked up at the stars accompanying us on the chilly summer night.

He said: "I hate the world."

I replied: "Me too."

I never tried to understand him, because I knew I wouldn't, no matter how much I wanted. No matter how much I cared, and how much I wanted to help, I knew better than to push him into telling me what was wrong.

I first saw his scars sophomore year, we were juniors now, so it'd been a while since I knew about them. Never once did I think about telling him that I cared, and I that understood, because he wouldn't believe me and I didn't understand. It was so hard to comprehend- why he would do that to himself.

We were different- in so many ways. That's probably why we liked each other so much. Opposites are compatible, I suppose.

And just because I knew he harmed himself in ways I couldn't even fathom, didn't mean I was going to abandon him, or throw away his blades when I went over to his house. Because it's hard to stop once you've started. An old habit is hard to crack- that's one thing I did know.

Since finding my discovery, I was convinced every time he cut himself, an angel got their wings.

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leave your thoughts fam

this story is gonna be killer (literally) , stay tuned