To stay awake and unseen or sleep in oceans of blue

Chapter 4

"So," Jordon says as the five of us walk the sidewalk to my house, "you want to date Harley?"

"I am dating Harley," I scratch the back of my head awkwardly.

"How'd that happen?"

"I was into her the second I saw her, Dylan knows it," I look at him and he nods and smiles, "but when we talked Friday we just realized how much of the same stuff we have going on and how perfectly we could fit into each other's lives and why the fuck am I still talking?" I groan and put my head in my hands but I'm still smiling, I'm just awkward.

"And to think, I thought you just thought she was hot, but now you're being a huge pussy about it so it must be real," Dylan laughs.

"I'm happy for you guys," Matt shrugs. "Just, be nice to that girl, ok?"

"Not that I'd want to be mean, but I think Jordon would rip my dick off if I was," I say and he nods casually.

"I would," he says and smiles.

"You're really protective of her, huh?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I am."

"Well, I really like her, I'm not screwing her over."

"Good, cause we like you a lot," he smiles and pats my shoulder encouragingly. "But I do treat her like a sister."

"I know, and I have no interest in messing up the group."

"Well then," George turns to face me, "I'm happy for you too, J."

The guys all agree and bro hug me before I walk into my house and leave their supportive smiles.

I was fucking terrified they wouldn't approve of me for her or something, but I mean, they let me into the band on the second day of knowing me, so they like me I think.

I drop onto the couch in the living room of my empty house and grin at the black tv.

She's mine.

I turn it on and flick through Netflix until I find The Shining and put it on. It's late, but I doubt I'm the only teenage guy that goes to bed late.

When I finally start to feel myself falling asleep, Jack is yelling at Wendy about how she shouldn't interrupt him when he's working.

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I wake up early and go upstairs to my room, heading right for the washroom.

Yesterday was a good day, Jorel. Stop.

Or don't.

I yawn at the fact that it's barely seven thirty in the morning as I walk past my clock to the bathroom and lock it, taking out my razors.

"Why do I fuck myself up all the time?" I groan and I slide the blade along my wrist. "Why am I so stupid?" I slide it again. "Why do I want to do this no matter what goes right in my life?" I wince as I realize how deep the last one went because I was angry.

I run my arm under the tap as fast as I can and cringe at the contact with the deep cut, taking out gauze and tape and wrapping it up.