Sweatshirts in July *Solby*

July 6th

26 days

 Last night I dreamed of blue eyes and ringed fingers. Colby has been here consistently and he is driving me insane. His small smiles and his rants filled with concern are starting to toy with my mind. It's a constant battle between my normal voices and Colby's that have been giving me a head ache. Colby is only making things worse, I want the noises to end, the voices, the dreams, the feelings, everything. I want to be an emotionless void or even better, dead. This plan I have is taking too long, I want it to end. All of it now. The word soon can't continue feeding my brain anymore and my fingers haven't stopped twitching wanting to delicately paint with crimson on the white walls. I do still want to be an artist. I've been practicing with the red crayon. I don't know how much longer I can pretend, soon is becoming nothing but a word I keep rewriting. I want to write now but I have to bid my time so no one can stop it. So soon. It'll happen soon. 

Sam has always been so surprised at how light his notebook his considering all of the dark things that fill it. The blonde kept the journal always by his side in fear that if it got too far away it would spill all of its contents and let the world see the true horrendous mess that was the blonde's mind. Gently Sam caressed the front of the journal as he tried to ignore the intruding eyes of the boy who was sitting in the chair, the blonde feeling uncomfortable under the gaze. He felt like the boy was trying to look in him, to see something other than a boy in sweatshirt. Sam assumed he was trying to see that spark Colby ranted about yesterday, the one where he believed that Sam could be saved because of it. Sam knew that no matter how hard Colby looked he wouldn't have been able to find it. 

 Colby didn't mean to stare at the boy but he couldn't help it. His mother thinks he may be getting sick or too involved in his job but he has been dreaming of blonde hair and grey sweatshirts. His mind has been consumed with Samuel Golbach, hoping he is okay, dreaming up possible things the boy would write, or reminding himself that the hope he saw inside of the boy was real and was actually there. Colby was obsessed with the sick broken boy, he was obsessed with the idea of saving him. Colby didn't know how or when it had become an obsession. He couldn't even exactly remembered why he cared, he just knew that it was now his job to save the blonde, "Sam why is it that you try so hard not to be saved?" The question slipped off Colby's tongue and hung in the air before Colby even realized what he was saying. The question was a mistake but the brunette was curious of the answer none the less. Sam never once looked up from his note book as he shrugged, 

 "I thought we went through this before, what is the point of living a life where I can't be normal. No matter what the voices in my head will always be there tempting me, why live a life with constant unwanted temptations? I know how a blade feels across my wrist, it makes my body sing. How am I suppose to resist it? Why even learn how to try when the feeling of it is bliss? It's like telling an adrenaline junkie to stand in front of a steep ledge his whole life with a parachute. In the end he is going to end up jumping so why even avoid it to begin with. Besides in the end we are all going to die anyways so why not make mine come a little bit sooner. It would make the world a happier place for everyone." Sam's voice held a nonchalant tone as he easily explained his reasoning. The other boy was lost unsure what he could say to refute the boys logic. Nothing came. How was one suppose to argue with someone who has given up anyways? 

 Sam opened up his journal once again, careful to open it up to a new page. This time he grabbed a blue crayon instead of his usual red deciding to draw Colby. The brunette's face held a frown, Sam could almost see the wheels turning in his head as he tried to understand Sam's answer. The boy looked like he should according to Sam, dumb and clueless. The other would never understand how the blonde's brain worked or why is worked the way it did. Colby wouldn't be able to understand how much his wrists yearn for pain or how death isn't scary for boys like Sam. When you're broken darkness tends to swell through the breaks and take over. Colby Brock just couldn't understand Samuel Golbach. 

 The sketch of Colby held every detail Sam could fit with a crayon, satisfied with how it turned out. Neither boy spoke much, the small white room filled with nothing but slight tension. The sounds of scribbling crayon and even breaths were the only thing that resounded in the small room. Both boys lost in each of their own thoughts. Colby's mind swirled with confusion and the day where he saw that small glint in Sam's eye. He swore it was real and that Sam would be saved. Sam's mind swirled with his usual voices and visualized blood dripping down his thin pale wrist. Colby thought of the blondes future life as Sam thought of his own death. 

 "I'm going to save you Golbach. I promise." Sam only shrugged as Colby's declaration filled the small room, Sam not at all batting an eye at the fact that Colby changed his normal saying, instead he let out a small sigh and changed his own, 

"Don't make promises you can't keep Brock." 

A/N: Thank you SO much for all of the reads, comments, and votes. They really do mean the WORLD to me. I hope you enjoyed this chapter!~Nightmare