A Blue Neighbourhood ••Tronnor

TALK ME DOWN

A/N: omg you guys I'm in shock?! 100 reads already! I never thought I would get that! I love every single one of you!!
But now moving on to the A/N about this story, at first I thought about writing this story like the music video to TALK ME DOWN but I felt more like writing a little more what the lyrics of the song makes me think about so here we go
Sad and maybe triggering warning I guess

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-Troye
Mine and Connor's apartment was oddly quiet. I mean, not oddly quiet compared to these last months. He had been out almost all the time I was awake, rarely it happened that I even heard him coming home as I fell asleep.

I knew what he was doing. I knew that he was meeting these other boys. Those who apparently could love him better than I did.

I didn't confront him though. I knew that he was cheating on me but I wouldn't talk to him about it. If there were days where I could be with him I certainly would rather have a good time with him than fight him because he sleeps with other people.

At first I had stayed up waiting for him. He had left directly after taking me to a restaurant for lunch, and I had waited for him until the clock was almost 4 in the morning. Then I had gave up. Of course I was still worried but I didn't want to think about it, so I went to sleep.

The next morning I had woke up at 2 pm. Connor was putting on his jacket and shoes to leave the house, and when I asked him where he was going he said he 'was gonna do some things'. He didn't come home that night either. The more nights he left me alone, the less I cared.

But every now and then I came home earlier than usual, which resulted in me not being as deeply asleep as I usually was. Those nights I could feel the bed sink under the weight of his body, and sometimes, sometimes he would still wrap his arms around my body like he did when we had just gotten together. When we were still in love.

Every time he walked out of the door of our apartment in central New York he left me with some kind of numbness I couldn't describe. I felt nothing, I didn't love him nor did I hate him. I felt nothing against him.

The day I had decided to take a look in the bathroom drawers was just like the others. I had woken up to the ringing sound of the silence that filled not only the apartment but also my head. My mind was empty, and as much as people say it's comforting to not think about anything, this was hurting more than overthinking everything.

My body had been drained of feelings when I had slowly walked into the bathroom, concentrating on not looking in the mirror because I knew that I would meet a face I wouldn't want to see. If I'd see myself I'd probably understand why Connor decided to be with other people.

I had known what I was looking for and I found the little sharp razors in the first drawer I opened. They looked at me with that convincing look that made me pick one up, just to take a close look on them. It gave me a reflection of my face that made me put it down on the sink.

The face staring back at me was nothing but depressing with its black circles under its eyes, and the sunken cheeks which was the consequences of my lack of sleeping and eating. But Connor hadn't even seem to noticed my body was smaller than usual.

I had closed my eyes when I let the razor touch the skin of my wrist the first time. It didn't hurt as much as I thought but when I opened my eyes was the red liquid sipping through my pale skin. I took a deep breath and ripped my skin open in the desperation to feel something, anything.

When a stinging pain shot from my arm I let the razor fall to the bathroom floor. I held my arm over the sink and let the blood drop into it, coloring the white porcelain with red stripes.

My arm was once again starting to feel numb but this time I knew it was because it was almost drained of blood.

Panic gripped me.

I didn't want to die, it might have seem like a good idea before but I couldn't. I couldn't kill myself.

I couldn't let my family down like that, I couldn't make them that disappointed with me. But mostly, I couldn't leave Connor.

I guess he would be better off without me, he would be able to be that other boy without having to lie about it. He probably wouldn't even notice I was gone.

But I couldn't leave him because of myself. Obviously I still loved him, even though I knew not to trust him I still loved him. And I had to stay with him.

It ripped me apart but it was still the only thing that kept me together.

So because of selfish, and unselfish, reasons I decided to pick up a towel and press it to my wrist.

That incident was two weeks ago, never once had Connor asked about the scars that covered my wrist. Or why four of our towels and our sink was covered in blood. He didn't care.

But still I wanted him to sleep next to me, I just wanted to get close to him.