One Shots

3 AM

TW: references to suicidal thoughts

"What are you doing?" I heard my friend ask.

Without opening my eyes to look at her, I simply said, "Laying down."

"In the middle of a parking lot."

I hummed in response. Realistically, she should be used to this kind of behavior from me by now.

"Do you need to make an extra appointment with your therapist this week?"

"What?" I said indignantly. "No. Lisa, I'm fine."

"Nothing about this indicates that you're fine."

I cracked one eye open and saw her standing above me with her arms crossed. "Join me, and you'll understand."

"There's no way I'm laying down on the dirty ground. You have no idea what kind of germs and dirt and general nastiness has been there."

I shrugged. "It adds to the appeal," I told her nonchalantly.

She decided to ignore my comment and got back on track, "Why are you laying in a parking lot at three in the morning?"

I didn't realize how much time passed since I came out here. "Oh, boy! Three A.M.!"

"Parker!"

"I wanted to get out of the house."

"And?"

"And I needed fresh air."

"And?"

"There's a slim chance a car will come through here and not notice me."

There it is, I knew Lisa thought once I uttered the words.

She didn't verbalize the thought, but she let out a long sigh, which essentially equated to the same thing. "You definitely need to see your therapist."

"I'm not hiding anything this time," the last two words hung heavily over both of us. "I contacted you, didn't I?"

"Yes, but you probably should've done that before leaving the house."

"Look," I leveled with her, "I knew nothing would happen if I came here. This isn't my first time out of the house in the middle of the night. No one even passes this lot during these hours."

"That doesn't excuse the fact that you're still out in the middle of the night, where something bad could happen and no one would be around to hear or see it."

"I didn't come out here tonight with a death wish," I grumbled.

"Well, I can never be too sure about that with you."

I pouted. "So, you don't trust me."

"C'mon, Parker. You know it's not like that."

"Then tell me what it's like," I retorted like a pentuant child.

"You need tough love. You need someone to tell you like it is. As your best friend, I'm here to do that for you. If you still think you don't deserve it, then know that I'm also here for selfish reasons. I can't sit by and let you self-destruct again. It hurt enough the first time. I can't handle it a second time."

"I'm sorry," I whispered, my voice slightly raspy.

"I know. Now, can you please get up? You're going to wind up with an infection or, like, an STD."

"I don't think that's how that works," I replied as I reluctantly sat up.

I wasn't quite ready to stand up, and Lisa could sense that. She gave me a few minutes to sit criss-cross and zone out. When I remained still, she stuck her hand out right in front of my face. My reaction was delayed, but I eventually took the offered hand and got help to stand up.

"See, not so hard, right?" She commented once I was back on my feet.

I just looked at her emotionlessly. In response, she thew an arm around my shoulders.

"C'mon." She started guiding us. "Let's get you back inside."

But instead of walking toward my house, she led us to hers.

"But my parents-" I began to say half-heartedly.

"Won't care...unfortunately. You don't get to use that excuse with me."

I let out an inaudible sigh but continued to follow my friend. "You just want to monitor me."

"Damn right, I do. I should put a leash on you—don't want you to wander too far."

"I'll behave," I muttered, annoyed.

"And I'll be there to make sure of it. Your words mean nothing when your actions don't back them up."

"So, me saying I want to die means nothing if I don't actively do anything about it?"

"Parker..." she said like a parent ready to lecture their child. Funny that I've heard that tone more from my best friend than my parents.

"Whatever," I dismissed the topic quickly. I didn't actually want to talk about it. I continued, resigned, "Let's just get back to yours."

I could see her frown from the corner of my eye, but she didn't say anything. She probably didn't want to set me off or something.

We stayed quiet for the duration of our walk to Lisa's house, which gave me plenty of time to think of how much I wanted to run back to the parking lot. I just wanted to be alone outside...so I'm not entirely sure why I wound up calling Lisa to tell her where I was.

I knew I should be grateful for all she's done for me since we've become friends. But sometimes I felt too numb and emotionless to fully appreciate her. Somehow, I think she knows that. She's too good for me.

And this is how the spiraling always starts—positive, to a degree. And it goes downhill from there.

"Hey." Lisa snapped her fingers in front of my face. Only then did I realize we stopped walking. "We're here. Get out of your head."

I was suddenly too drained for anything. I stayed silent and automatically went inside when Lisa opened the door. I beelined it to her room on autopilot and fell face first onto her bed. Suddenly, it felt like I weighed a ton and couldn't move an inch. Lisa somehow knew this and manhandled me, so I'd lay in a more comfortable position.

I wanted to thank her, whether with words or some sort of gesture, but I couldn't make myself do anything at all.

She ran a hand through my hair. "I love you, Parker. You know I'm always here for you."

I shut my eyes—the only thing I felt capable of doing at the moment. In my head, I repeatedly thanked her, hoping she'd somehow hear me.

"You're welcome," she mumbled, barely audible.

I didn't think I actually said anything out loud.

She just knew. Mentally, I fell asleep smiling.