remember me ➳ troyler au // SECOND //

XVIII

Tyler

15.02.15

2:04 p.m.

I look up. I look around and see no one outside. Except cars speeding by and some couples kissing. I want to cry because they all look cute kissing in the rain. I can imagine Troye and I kissing in the rain. But I know that it won't be real. He won't be passionate in the kiss, though. He doesn't remember me at all.

I start to cry even more. The tears won't be that visible because of the rain. Which is good. But you can see the tear stains on the glasses. So, I take off my glasses and wipe them. I rinse them off in the rain after. I put them back on.

I then start to wish that Troye would come around and find me. I know that might not happen since he basically told Connor he loves him. Troye doesn't love me. He loves Connor. Connor is more attractive. Better looking. Award-Winning smile. Beautiful eyes. And me? I just have bleached, coloured hair that might fall out in the next 20 years.

I bury my face in his hands. Troye won't come for me if he loves Connor. They're just going to walk off together looking so fucking cute and I'm just going to be that loner hanging out with girls and people just shouting, "GAY!" at me. That has happened to me.

When I was about 12 years old, I would be hanging out with all my girl friends. They were so nice to me. They would always care for me. But, when someone screamed the word, "GAY!" at me face, I just couldn't move anymore. The girls I hanged out with stopped hanging out with me because they thought that "gay" meant something bad. Or maybe the people who called me "gay" because I hanged out with girls told them to stop hanging out with me because "gay" is a type of disease that is contagious. Of course they believed him. We were 12!

I dig in my pockets for a box. I then find it and pull it out. I then roll up my sleeves and look at my pale, clean wrists. No cuts, no blood, no scars. Nothing. I feel a tear stream down my cheek. I wipe it away.

I open the box. Inside it was a cloth. I unwrap the cloth and I look at the sharp, unused blade. I kept a blade in here because I found it from Troye's house when I visited once. I took it and put it in a box and I wrapped it around a cloth. I keep it with me for no reason. Probably just to see all the sad memories of Troye. I didn't want any sad memories, but those were the only memories I kept. A blade. A washed off blade. And a few pictures with him. But that's pretty much it.

I took the blade in my right hand and place it above my wrist. I shut my eyes and slash open them. I open my eyes and see blood gushing out of the wrist. By that time, I was already sobbing.

I keep slitting open my wrists. I did it for every day Troye forgot about me. So basically there was approximately 31 cuts in my wrist in the time span of 2 minutes. I then look at it, blood oozing out of my wrists. I put away the blade and then I rinse off my wrist with rain water. I then cover my wrist with my sleeve and I put my head in to my knees. I wasn't sobbing anymore, though.

I see car lights on. Then, I hear a car door slam shut. Was that Troye? I then see feet on my right side. Then, I felt a tap on my shoulder. I look up and see Troye. He came for me. Does he really care? Of course he does. He wouldn't be here if he didn't care about me. He handed me a coat and I put it on. Troye takes my hand and I enter his car. I shut the door and so does Troye once he entered the vehicle.