Before He was Rosy Cheeks

when a friend reaches out

It'd been four days since the boy had run
from his family. Four days of being locked in his room, hardly leaving to use the bathroom or eat. Four days without a shower or barely a wink of sleep.

And seven since he'd become a murderer.

Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the faces of his sisters and his father. They were haunting him, eating him alive. Taking him piece by piece until he would be nothing. There would be no mask to hide what he truly was. And he didn't want people to know, though he knew they did.

The boy was lying on his bed, his mind flinging around a million thoughts (none of them where anywhere near good). He couldn't stop himself from thinking about the crash. How his family must've felt. How much pain they would've been in. What would've happened if he and his mom had gone back to get his suitcase. If one of his sister's would've been alive if the ambulance had gotten there sooner. How much his mother hated him for killing them.

The only time they momentarily stopped, was when a knock sounded on his locked bedroom door. He sat up quickly, hasitly rubbing away at his tear soaked cheeks.
Then hesitantly, he spoke up.

"W-Who is it?" He asked with his voice, raspy and cracking from crying and the lack of use.

There was a silence from the person behind the door, as if they were regretting coming. Then.. "It's Jeremiah." The person said. "Can I come in, man?"

The boy frowned, wondering why he would even show up. He knew Jeremiah didn't come to the funeral. Even though they were supposedly best friends. Why now, after seven days of nothing?

"...Sure." The boy finally said, running a hand over his face and through his ratty hair.

When the door opened to reveal Jeremiah, the boy almost laughed at his friend's reaction. He knew how badly he must've looked. Greasy, unwashed hair. Sleepless eyes. How frail he must've looked from not eating more than a premade protein shake in the morning.

Once his friend had recovered from his initial shock, he shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans and leaned up against the wall facing the boy's bed.

"I know you don't want to hear that I'm sorry and that eventually everything is going to be okay. But I promise it will and I am.. sorry." Jeremiah said slowly. The boy could tell he was choosing his words carefully. "I remember how awful it was when my cousin died, so I can't imagine how much pain you're feeling right now. I just.. I wanted you to know that if you want to talk, man, I'm here for you. That sounds girly as shit, but whatever.. Micah and Erik said the same thing. That they'd be there for you, ya know."

The boy stared at his friend, with his lifeless eyes, motionlessly. His friend was offering to comfort a murderer of all people. All of his friends were. Thoughts swirled around in his head until he was filled with fear and hatred for himself, and he stood suddenly, shaking his head.

"I don't need your help. I'm fine." The boy said, making his way over towards his door, then opened it quickly. He wanted so badly for Jeremiah to understand.

"Don't lie to me man, I can see right through you. I've known you for.. since we were kids." Jeremiah replied, crossing his arms and standing his ground.

The boy closed his eyes, trying to shut away his anger and fear. "Look, I can get over it by myself. You don't need to help me, I'm not going to break." He told him. 'I already am broken.'

Jeremiah narrowed his eyes at the boy and gazed over at him from his position against the boy's wall. "It's not you being weak if you need a shoulder to lean on. No one's going to think you're an absolute psycho because you're upset over what happened."

The boy used his hand to gesture at Jeremiah to leave. He didn't want him around anymore. "Just leave me the hell alone, Jeremiah. I'm okay, for God's sake." He nearly snapped.

With a shake of his head, Jeremiah pushed himself of the wall and brushed past the boy. As he did so, he muttered at the boy, "You know where to find me."

When the boy knew his friend was gone, he pushed his door shut and slunk to the floor. His head was resting against the wodden surface, his legs tucked up by his chest.

Then he broke down, into a sobbing, body wracking mess.

He had to make Jeremiah go away. Because he knew that he was going to hurt him too.

And he didn't want anyone else to die because of him.

_____

Bella's note: ehh. This is an eh filler chapter. Sorry. (7 chapters left!)

Much love,

-xx

(Don't forget to check out Pale's story!)