Sweatshirts in July *Solby*

July 8th

24 days 

 Colby spent the night and everything was surprisingly all right. We didn't talk much and I'm okay with that. I want to go back to the roof, just like we were last night. I want to go back but actually jump. I want the wind in my air and paint the ground with splattered red. I would be a true artist then. I have learned ways to keep the voices quiet though. It's simple. I just imagine killing myself just like I did on the roof. It satisfies them for a while but it won't last forever. Nothing lasts forever. So soon I will actually have to commit. Soon my idea will be in play, I just don't know how long I can keep saying soon. 

 Colby watched Sam write his eyes tracing his features over and over again. His blonde hair was messy but also neat, a look Colby himself never quite mastered. His eyes were like the sky a light blue that you could fall into. Colby found if he looked in them too long he wouldn't be able to come out of his trance. His skin was a soft pale and the boy was skinny. His lips were a light pink and lightly chapped. Colby imagined he would smell like a citrus fruit and honey. His sweatshirt hung off of him, being three sizes to big which Colby found ultimately adorable. The blonde was attractive to say the least and he hadn't left the brunettes mind in weeks. If Colby didn't know any better he would say he was developing a small crush on his mother's mental patient. Colby tried to shake the thoughts out of his head but he couldn't. Was it normal to develop a crush on the boy you are trying to save? Maybe he should talk to his mom about this.

 "Colby you're staring again." Sam's monotone voice pulled Colby out of his thoughts, sending a light shiver down his spine. He tried to rationalize it by deciding he was feeling that way because he did care about Sam, as a friend. He was going to save him, "Sorry Golbach I was lost in a daydream again. Aren't you ever bored? Want to do something?" Colby asked, as he fiddled with his fingers. He needed to do something besides sit in the small white room, he needed to move, get his blood flowing and keep his mind busy on something. Sam only shrugged, "We are in a mental hospital, there isn't much to do." Sam droned on focused on his journal. Colby itched to move but decided to stay seated watching Sam once again.

 "Do you want to draw with me?" Sam asked not once looking up from his paper. Colby quickly nodded an okay as he got out of his seat his knees cracking at the sudden movement. He took his time walking over to Sam's bed savoring the short walking distance. Sam held out a blank sheet of white paper and a black crayon to him, "Sorry that we only have crayons but that is the only thing I'm allowed to use." Sam informed him as he grabbed the few utensils from Sam. Deciding to sit on the floor, Colby lowered himself down the cool white tiles greeting him. In Colby's child like fashion he laid on his stomach and doodled. Sam looked at the brunette resisting the urge to roll his eyes as Colby looked up at him, "Join me?" Sam let out a groan but did it anyways to humor the messy haired boy.  Sam laid across from Colby, so that he was facing him. Their papers barely touched as they doodled. Sam drew a rose with his signature red crayon. He focused on the small details making it seem all the more lifelike. He then got up to bring the rest of the crayons with him, grabbing out a green for what Colby assumed was for the stem. 

 "So what are you drawing?" Colby asked in hopes of holding a conversation with the boy in front of him, Sam only gave him a slight glare, "You can obviously see what I'm drawing, my paper is write there. But if I must answer a rose." Colby only nodded along as he focused on his own paper, only every once and a while glancing at the other boy. Colby watched as Sam's crayon drew a green thorn, and then layered it with red, with what he assumed to be blood. Mentally he cringed as his mother's tale of Sam and the garden entered his mind. He wanted to ask questions, say anything but decided against it, 

 "What are you drawing Colby?" Sam asked with a hint of confusion laced into his voice. Colby stared at his stick figure and his scribbles on the paper, "It's a boy and his pet slug." Colby decided as Sam let out a small giggle, "You aren't very good at drawing are you." Sam stated as Colby only nodded in agreement, "definitely not as good as you." 

 Both boys shared soft giggles and drew on the white floors, for the first time Colby felt like he made Sam his friend and Sam for the first time felt like he wasn't all that a lone.