Sweatshirts in July *Solby*

July 5th

27 days 

 Last night I dreamed about Roses. The smell, the feel of the petals, and the thorns that rest on the stem. I dreamed about blood and the day I scratched at my wrist desperately with the rose I plucked. Giving up is easy. Fading away is easy. Just like a star my time has come to explode and never come back. Maybe I will come back as a rose. Wouldn't that be something? I would be something beautiful and something that fades all too quickly. Right now I feel like a plucked rose, I just wish I would whither away faster. My heart begs to stop beating but my mind gently reminds me, soon. 

Colby sat silently as the blonde clung to a crayon and his notebook as if he depended on it. After yesterday Colby's mother decided they should no longer go outside and Colby agreed. The look in his eyes yesterday were that of a mad man drunk on his own delusions. Outside, it was like he was stuck farther in his head, close to letting the voices spill out and completely take over. The only award from the brief walk was that Colby learned he was helping a little, that his voices grew quieter when he was around. Colby asked his mother why last night to which the woman responded, "It's simple. You're the first person to routinely visit him and try to talk to him. You're a distraction for him, he may not know it but all the time and energy he focuses on to ignore you or to to push you away it allows his brain to no longer scream the same words he is so used to listening to." So Colby was doing something and that is all that matter, 

 "Colby can I ask you a question?" Colby looked up to the blonde as he nodded a yes confusion evident on his face, Sam Golbach never started conversations and if he did it was never like this, so formal. A small curious smile rested on the blondes face, Colby could almost see the gears shifting inside the others head as he tried to figure out how to ask the seemingly simple question, 

"What makes you and your mother think I can be saved?" The question hung in the air as Colby stared into the blondes eyes and he saw it. A small glimmer of desperation. The other boy not know it or he chooses not see it but it's there that small hope that someone still believes he has a life worth living, in that moment Colby could almost see behind his mask. Sam was scared and Colby wanted to do nothing more than to pull him into a hug and tell him everything was going to be okay. As quick as it came the desperation disappeared and Colby stayed in his seat in the corner, looking past Sam deciding to instead focus on the white wall trying to pick the proper words, 

 "Well Sam, I don't really have an answer. Can I be honest? Every day my mom would come home discussing how you just wouldn't open up. I told her the same thing every time, just give up. What it the point of helping someone who doesn't want to be helped. At this point you're probably wondering why I haven't followed my own advice but I have learned to see exactly what my mother sees. There is something in your eyes Sam. Something that you have no idea is there. There is strength, wonder, and a tiny sliver of personal will. We feel if we can work hard enough we can get you to see it. Once you find it, well your on your own. So Sam I don't think we can save you but instead we know that you can save yourself, with just a little bit of guidance." 

 Sam tried to bite back his dry laughter. He figured Colby would say something stupidly inspirational that would never happen. How could Sam save himself when his own brain works against him? The answer is he can't. Him saving himself is like making a unconscious not breathing victim give themselves CPR. It is unrealistic but Sam doesn't say any of his thoughts instead only nodding. Allowing Colby to live in his world of denial while Sam only wished he could. Sam could remember when he was little and had vague dreams and hopes that the world would have peace and everyone would be happy. He remembers thinking that sadness was a choice and the only way to be sad was that you had to choose it. He remembers thinking that superheros were real and that life was a gift. That was until he was shown the truth, and before his arms were decorated with his own version of art. The two fell back into a familiar pattern of Colby fiddling with his rings in silence and Sam writing in his sketchbook, 

 I wish everything was as easy as Colby claimed, but it isn't. My head is heavy with the voices that are made to never leave. They give me ideas, and suggestions that I can't ignore. It is like setting a drug addict in front of there drug of choice. I have an idea now. I know how to do it. I just need a day, a day where I'm alone and I can make my master piece. Colby and his mother think I'm savable but I'm nothing. There is nothing left of me to be saved. Soon. I just have to keep reminding myself and the voices that soon they will no longer be starving.   

"Sam?" The brunette's voice shook as it filled the room, the blondes eyes not once leaving his moving crayon. The color of the crayon was red, it has become the blondes favorite, "I just want to say that what ever you're thinking, you're wrong. We are going to save you. I will be your friend." Sam sighed, that saying had now become his parting phrase and Sam repeated his, 

 "What ever you say Brock."

A/N: Two updates in one day, don't expect this often until New Kid is done at least. I just can't sleep so thought I would give you guys something, I have had this idea in my head since I wrote the last chapter today so I hope it's good. Thank you all so much for the votes, comments, and reads, they mean the world to me <3!! ~Nightmare