Hypnotised (Magnets Book 2)

Chapter 8

Trigger warning: self harm. I'm always here if anyone needs to talk. Ily.

Dan's POV

The day after the dream, I stayed in the bedroom from the moment I woke up until around dinnertime. Chris tried to get me to come out a few times, but I didn't want any of it. I didn't want to have to go outside and face the world. I just hid in the bedroom, my thoughts spinning in every which way. Generally, my mood was extremely shitty and I had to forcefully tell myself to calm down before I got self-destructive.

Which happened too often.

I hated myself for being so weak. I was supposed to be past this. I was supposed to be strong now. I had people looking up to me. I had people depending on me for their entertainment. Heck, I'd even been called an inspiration once. But apparently everyone with a fragment of hardship in their lives is an inspiration these days.

Half the time, mine and Phil's fanbase scared me. All those people looking up to us, listening to what we said- it was a scarier concept that what one might assume. If they even had half an idea of what a depressive fuck-up I was... I would probably have to delete my YouTube. And Twitter. And Tumblr.

Delete myself.

Again with the destructive thoughts. I gave a frustrated sigh.

"You alright in there?" I heard from outside the door. Chris.

"I'm- I'm fine."

"Okay. Well, I'm going to go meet someone in town for lunch- I'll be back soon, okay?"

I nodded, then remembered he couldn't see me. "Okay."

And then he was gone and I was alone with my thoughts. Fuck.

I slowly crept put of the bedroom. It was getting kind of stuffy in there, anyway. I looked out the window and saw rain clouds gathering, heavy and black. Then I looked up further and saw patches of bright blue sky. A beautiful cobalt blue that reminded me of his eyes.

Don't think about that.

But it was too late. All my conflicted feelings rushed from the recesses of my brain, thoughts that I had been blocking all day.

I missed him so much I felt a physical ache in my heart. I craved his smooth, pale skin and his quirky little smile. His gentle voice and his tender words. I yearned to see him again- yet at the same time I despised it.

Perhaps it was the shame. The fact that I couldn't handle coming out when he could. The fact that I didn't want to love him in public but he loved me enough to put his reputation on the line to do so. Because I had snapped at him and then left without even trying to explain myself. Without apologizing. Just leaving him without a care in the world about how he felt.

Because he was the strong one. He had always been taking care of me. And because I had always thought nothing could hurt him. And I realized that I hurt him. He had acted as a shield to protect me but then I had gone and attacked him from behind.

Guilt wrapped its way around my chest, constricting my breath. Tears clouded my vision and I felt sick.

This is all my fault.

And with that final sentiment, all of my resolve was gone. I snapped. Those years of psychologist visits- those strengthening exercises, mind games- they all evaporated from head.

The thing they don't tell you about addictions is that when the opportunity comes to indulge yourself- you take it. Every saying, every rhyme and motivational speech and distraction flies far away from your mind and all you can literally fucking think about it that thing. That urge becomes unstoppable and it consumes your mind until you aren't yourself. And afterwards all you can do is accept the fact that you are weak and powerless and God knows those thoughts do a lot of good.

Self harm is not romantic. It's not courageous. It's not something people want to do. In harsh reality it's painful and it makes a mess and it leaves scars. It's an ugly business.

These thoughts plagued me as I stood in the bathroom, shirtless. Blood dripped down my legs as I pressed wads of tissue to my hips in an effort to stem the blood flow and not stain the tiles. The cuts stung. I looked at myself in the mirror, disgusted with myself for caving.

Weak. Pathetic.

"Fuck," I choked to myself. I dragged myself back into the bedroom and collapsed against the door. "Fuck. Shit."

What have I done?

All the progress I'd made. How far I'd come. All. Gone.

And then I was 15 again. And I heard an angry banging on my door. I winced. "You disgusting boy!" My father's voice yelled angrily. "You're weak and pathetic! I saw those bloody razors!" At this point I screwed up my face and pressed my hands against my ears. My hair brushed the first cuts I'd ever made, making me wince.

"Dan?"

And then I was 21 again. And I was scared.

"Dan? It's me, Chris. I'm coming in."

Then the door opened and Chris' eyes alighted on my tear-stained face as I desperately tried to shrink into the wall.

Instead of recoiling in repulsion, gazed at me softly before joining me on the floor, his back against the bed.

"Dan," I heard him say. I continued to stare at the floor. His fingers gently tilted my chin up so that my eyes met his. "What's on your mind?"

I laughed dryly. "Gee, I wonder."

He didn't smile. He just stared.

I sighed and buried my head in my knees."I miss him."

Chris shrugged. "Go see him."

I glared at him. "It's not that simple." My voice was filled with venom.

"Well, let's make it simple. You both aid some things you didn't really mean. You both still love each other. Say sorry. Make up. Done."

"You don't know that. What if he doesn't-"

"Dan, if you're going to say 'what if he doesn't love me' I will shoot myself in the foot," He deadpanned."

I glared at him again. He held up his hands in mock defeat. I sighed.

"Why would he-"

"Again, if you finish that sentence I will shoot my other foot," he stated.

"Will you just shut the fuck up?" I asked.

"Phil loves you so much, Dan. He saw things in you that no one else did. He saw who you truly are- more than just the quiet boy in the back of the class. He saw the intelligence and creativity and the uniqueness. And things like that are hard to find. But with Phil- he honestly does have the heart of a lion. He forgave PJ- surely he's not even a little bit mad at you. He probably misses you as much as you miss him. I mean- can you imagine him skipping all over London rejoicing at the fact that you're gone?"

And I couldn't.

"Case closed, then," said Chris. "Let me know if you're ready to move out."

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hahahaha look the trash is back with a new chapter

so when selecting this song i channeled my inner sad punk and this happened i hoope you like blink-182

thanks for reading ily