Please

Part 2

You sit in front living area, typing furiously on your phone, doing everything you possibly can to make sure you have your ex blocked; no texts, no voicemails, no calls - you never want to hear from him again.

Not even on social media, which you currently have disabled.

You want to just disappear.

And that's exactly what you're doing.

You huff in annoyance, leaning back in the couch, absently tucking your hair behind your ear as it starts to fall in your face; you normally have it tied in a knot on the back of your head so it wouldn't annoy you, as long as it was getting, but right now you were trying to keep it down to hide your bruises.

You hate long hair, but you'd been forbidden from cutting it, because you didn't "look good" with short hair, you looked too boyish, as your chest was smaller, your shoulders too broad, your jaw -.

Ugh.

You need to stop before you get ahead of yourself.

You didn't have to think about the things he said anymore.

You could forget all about him.

You want too, anyway.

You want to forget how everything had gone so downhill; how the casual, almost innocent remarks that were negative about your appearance, just here and there, had started to slowly build up until you were so self-conscious about yourself you questioned what you were going to wear every morning.

Whether it made you look too guy-ish.

If your hair was too short.

Your lips too red.

Your eyes too squinty.

You hated it.

You hated him for making you feel so inadequate.

You hate -.

"Hey."

You glance over as Balz tosses himself onto the couch beside you, his blue eyes curious as he looks at you, lights glinting off his angel bites. He has his black beanie pulled low on his head, hiding his gear tattoo, and, like the rest of the guys, he was wearing a Blackcraft T.

What even was Blackcraft?

"Hey," you mumble, clicking the screen of your phone as another message pops up. You let it lay in your lap as you turn to look at Balz, hesitating when you think he's sitting a little too close for your own comfort.

Your hands clench in your lap.

"So, uh - me and Rick were talking earlier," Balz rubs the back of his head as he leans forward, bracing his elbows on his knees, his jeans ripped and splattered with different colors of paint. "And, uh... look, we didn't... say anything to the rest of the guys, about your situation."

Situation.

Right.

Your hell.

"And we weren't going too, not unless it was cool with you." he continues, his eyes on your face, despite you look down. "As far as anyone is concerned, you're bros with Ricky, and you're just along for the ride. If anyone asks anymore, just tell them to fuck off, okay? It's none of their business."

Really?

Your eyes flick warily to his face.

"Seriously." Balz says, eyes meeting yours. "And if you need help, or just, y'know, anything, you can come to me too. I know we don't know each other very well, and that literally I'm just the random dude you've seen over Skype and shit, but... but, uh, I just wanted you to know you can talk to me. if you need too." he shrugs, looking like he felt awkward.