((+ Hope you all like this book:)))
The taller, younger male tossed and turned, trying hard to get out of the state he was in.
"No. Please, don't!" Blake pleaded in his sleep. "Take me! Spare his life for mine. Please. I'm begging you. Please!" he continued.
He sprung up, panting and sweating. He held his hand up to his forehead, wiping the beads that formed on his head. Trying hard not to wake the blonde sleeping next to him, the brunette climbed out of bed. Blake turned round, finding himself fondly smiling at the sight in front of him. He suddenly sprinted from the room and down the stairs. Sleepily walking, Blake clambered into the kitchen. He pulled a chair out from under the breakfast bar and sat down. The 16 year old rethought of all the things that had happened in the last 3 months. How he confessed about his love for George, how the blonde he was thinking about did the same, how they ended up together and how he was so lucky to be able to sleep in his bed. And many other thoughts.
These thoughts of the particularly pretty blonde ((+ btw a man can be pretty)) lead him to think about other things. Darker things.
A few weeks before he told George how he felt, the brunette would go through each day with a blade in hand. It was his lifesaver, ironically.
Blake pulled up the sleeve of his top to study the visible white marks on his arm. For every scar he remembered their reason. Their story.
The 16 year old never told George about the scars and doesn't want to. This leads him to the all dreaded, what if's.
What if he finds this? What if he leaves me? What if he finds someone better than me? I don't deserve George and I never did. Did I? He deserves so much better than me. He doesn't need me. I'm just a disease. ((+ I'm not offending Blake btw))
He suddenly longed for the only thing that gave him comfort. He wasn't even sure that was George anymore. But one thing he sure knew about was that he couldn't live on this planet anymore. So without thinking about this properly, he made a run for the bathroom, forgetting to lock, and raiding the drawers and cupboards, trying desperately to find it.
His eyes soon fell upon the glinting metal and heard, Do it. No one needs you, not even George.
He picked it up, examining it, before slicing his skin. He let out a probably audible yelp, but continued, biting on his lip as it drew blood.
"What are you doing?" Came a voice.
He tried to hide it, but he was in too deep. Just like the blade was.
"Blake? Blake please stop. I love you. Please," the pleading, though, didn't make him stop. It made him continue. George bent down and turned Blake round so they were face to face.
"You can do so much better." The words came out muffled but they stood out.
"I don't want better, I want you. As rude as that may sound, I want you. You are so better. You're better than better. You're perfect." George was pleading. He saw this awful state that he still loved. The usually blushed cheeks now tear-stained, the usually joyful brown irises now drowning with tears. All the blonde used to ever see was a happy boy, but he couldn't see deep enough. He was broken.
"I'm sorry. I don't mean to hurt you. Please stop crying," the brunette said. George didn't care. He slapped the blade from his hand and pulled him into a hug.
"Please don't ever scare me like that again. I love you too much to lose you,"
"I love you too,"
