Sweatshirts in July *Solby*

July 3rd

29 days 

 I have figured out that I have a dream like Colby. I want to be an artist. I want to be more than the guy who can draw lines on his wrists. I think it was Colby but last night I dreamed about my past instead of my future in a casket. I was five and all I did was color. It was before the voices and before I lived in sweatshirts. I was so happy then. I still draw, some of them are decent. I told Mrs. Brock about my development she brought me more crayons and blank sheets of paper. I have grown tired of asking for pens and pencil's the edges are sharp and well we all know what I could with them. Wouldn't that be poetic though? An artist ending his life with a red colored pencil and a perfectly crafted line? I still have a plan, and I'm still going to go through with it but it definitely won't be as poetic but it will be good enough. Anything is good enough as long as it ends blissfully. 

"What is it that you are always writing?" Sam looked up from his notebook suddenly aware of the messy haired boy sitting in his normally emptied chair. He closed the journal as he sat his utensil's aside looking at the boy with ocean eyes curiously, "Why do you care?" His voice sounded stiff and guarded but Colby didn't seem to mind as he only shrugged his shoulders, "I don't know if you remember Golbach but I said I was going to be friends with you yesterday. Friends ask questions when they are curious." Sam resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the boy's lame response as he begged his cheeks not flare up in embarrassment. Of course he remembered yesterday and the other's sweet gesture. It was cute and sweet but dumb in the eyes of the blonde. Sam Golbach didn't have friends and he was determined that it remained that way. Sam's only friend was the white wall and his voices that resided in his head. 

 "We aren't friends Brock. But if you must know it's where I write down my thoughts. According to your mother and every other doctor I have talked to writing helps ease my destructive thoughts. It's total bullshit but I humor them. I mostly doodle." Sam barely looked over at the boy as a small smile traced his lips as he ran his hand over the cover. It held his darkest thoughts, the paper kept him company, and it didn't tell anyone of his thoughts. The inanimate object was his perfect quaintness. Colby only nodded along barely catching a glimpse of the small smile Sam gave as he answered. The brunette cheered mentally as he counted that as a win. A small part of his mask cracked and Colby felt accomplished. Deciding to see how far his luck would go Colby got up and walked over to the edge of Sam's bed, "May I sit here?" Sam barely nodded a yes as he moved to the farthest side anxiously pulling at his long sleeves. 

 "So Sam,  I have told you everything about myself. Tell me about you." Colby's voice was quiet and soft as if he was talking to child. Sam didn't mind, his voice helped ease his mind allowing him to breath a sense of relief for a while. Sam looked at the boy next to him and decided to humor him, 

  "I always thought I was normal. The pain and loud voices in my head, I thought everyone had them. Later on I learned it wasn't so I was quick to hide them. I've almost forgot what normal is like.  I had a childhood like yours, it was great... then just one day I changed. I can't even tell you when or how. Now I spend my days fantasizing things that most would deem horrifying." Silence hung in the air as the words spoken by the blonde seeped into the skin of Colby sending a shiver down his spine. The blonde spoke so delicately and softly Colby almost believed he was making it up in his head. Sam gave him a little insight of his life and Colby was more than great-full, 

 "Sam. Thank you." Sam looked over shocked at the simple sentence, "Thank you for what?" Colby shook his head lightly sending the nervous looking boy a small smile, "For sharing. It takes a lot of courage. I think once we warm up to each other some more we will become best friends." Sam let out a sight regretting opening up to the other. Sure it was nice to share a piece of him with some one else but there was no point in making friends. He had a plan and friends weren't a part of it, 

"Brock keep on dreaming. We aren't friends. We will never be friends." Sam argued as he opened back up his notebook to a new page taking a red crayon from the package sitting on the bedside next to him. Colby only shrugged as he watched the blonde draw out a perfect shape of a face. His hands were slightly shaking and his eyes squinted slightly in concentration. His tongue stuck slightly out of his mouth as focused on his drawing unaware of Colby's prying eyes. The boy in short sleeves resisted the urge to 'awe' as he watched the boy in the sweatshirt draw aimlessly. Colby would never admit it but he could have watched Sam like that for hours, Sam speech floating around in the back of his head, 

"Fine. I won't become your friend..." Colby suddenly announced loudly filling up the small white room as he got back up to walk back to his normal corner chair. Sam looked up at the boy, "Good.." Sam started but Colby only shook his head, 

 "I won't become your friend. Nope. Just think of me as your ears. I will listen. It will be like a friendship with out all the attachments. " Sam only rolled his eyes reading Colby's in a matter of seconds, "Don't kid your self Brock I can see it in your eyes. You're still going to try and befriend me. And I know you're still going to try and save me. Don't worry you aren't the first one to try." Colby only shrugged, 

"We'll be friends Golbach. You'll see." 

A/N: I'm worried that Sam and Colby sound a lot like the ones from New Kid. I'm trying to make them at least a little different because this is a different AU so I hope I'm not doing terribly. Also I am already in love with this book and can't wait to continue it! Thank you so much for all the reads and votes, they mean the world to me!! ~Nightmare