You and I, we just weren't created to survive (joshler) (not edited)

Chapter six - artwork

"I think you would beat the moon in a pretty contest."

The air is crisp and cool, Tyler finds the ends of his nose and tips of his ears turning pink as he pulls his coat tighter around himself, gloved hands not moving from his pockets. He made plans to meet up with the suicidal boy from the night on the bridge what must now have been a week ago. It seemed right that their meeting place would be the same bridge... or perhaps it is supposed to be wrong.

He leans against the railing whilst waiting, not particularly caring that he can see exactly where he was a mere week earlier for... less lively reasons than today. He's been here so many times he's become desensitised, almost how a murderer may become desensitised to the gore in their life.

"H-hey Tyler." A nervous and stutters voice grabs his attention. Tyler looks up with a grin on his face... and hears the smothered gasp that follows as coffee coloured eyes zone in on the gash across his forehead. His smile drops.

"It was my fault, just me being a clumsy idiot and knocking things off the top shelf." He swallows the lump in his throat, faking a laugh and hoping against all odds that Josh will believe him. It wasn't even necessarily a lie, he was clumsy, did break a glass that has been put too precariously in a high up place, just left out the part where he actually got his injuries.

Josh nods uncomfortably, recognising the tone of voice Tyler used as one he often uses himself when lying - he doesn't want to think about the possible reasons behind Tyler's lie.

Not knowing what else to say, a heavy silence falls on the two (for which Josh blames himself) and he finds himself glancing toward the edge of the bridge a few feet away. It looks welcoming, with the endless drop and frosty railings, and he finds his thoughts cloud over with a familiar thought, jump.

"Why don't we go somewhere else." It's that melancholy, scratchy, worried voice that clears his rain cloud of thoughts, drags Josh back to reality with a thud and his makes his eyes snap over to meet the others only to find them laced with nothing but sadness and concern. Both times they have met there has been some form of injury forming cracks in such a fragile person who reminds Josh oh-so-much of artwork.

He scowls inwardly, coming to the obvious conclusion that no-one is clumsy enough the have a consistent set of injuries in such a mass amount. But, he also want to ignore the obvious conclusion because, how could someone ever hurt anyone so much like artwork?

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