Sweatshirts in July *Solby*

July 9th

23 days 

 Colby has been the only thing on my mind lately, well him and my plan. It's going to break him and a small part of me wants to hold on just to save him from the pain but a bigger part of me doesn't care. I have never cared about anything except the art on my wrists. It's a strange feeling, Colby makes me happy. An artificial happy, a happy where for a time being I can smile and laugh only to have it fade away just as fast as it came. He thinks he can save me but he can't. I wish he could, god, I wish I could save myself but my head, the voices... I was always known for being weak. I'm weak for Colby, I can't keep pushing him away. I'm weak for the voices because I know that soon, soon won't be just a word I keep writing in my notebook. No more notes, no more thoughts, no more Colby, no more artificial happiness, no more me. 

 Colby followed his normal routine of sitting in the chair and watching the boy frantically scrawl in his notebook. Only one difference caught Colby's prying eyes, every so often the blonde would cast a small glance at the brunette that sent a tingle down Colby's spine. His face flushed slightly as the blonde's eyes went back to his writings, Colby's mother's words echoing in his mind, 

 Son I know you want to save him, but you can't if you let your emotions cloud your mind. You don't really have a crush on the boy, you just have strong feelings for the position you are in. It is a trick your mind plays on you son. It happens to the best of thinking caring and possible love is the same thing. You are just a hormonal boy put in a compromised situation. Look at Sam as a project not as a potential lover who needs fixing. Love won't fix him and it will only damage you. 

Colby understood his mother's concern but Colby knew the difference between caring and crushing and boy did he develop a crush on the blonde before him. Not only was the other boy attractive but the little bits of himself he gave to Colby, the little pieces of him with out the mask has drawn him in. There was something about Sam that Colby couldn't put his finger on. He had feelings for the broken boy, he knew it was true despite what his mother said and despite how much he didn't want it to be true. Colby knew one thing his mom was right about, love can't fix Sam and his brain and in the end Colby knew he would only damage himself. 

 "This isn't a very healthy habit you know." Colby jumped at the sound of Sam's voice, he really needed to stop daydreaming while on the job. Shaking his head slightly Colby put on a smirk and tried to play off the obvious, "What isn't a healthy habit Sam? I wasn't doing anything." Sam only rolled his eyes at the obnoxious retort, "Staring Colby. It seems everyday now that I catch you staring at me and I cause you to jump when I tell you to stop. So Mr. Brock tell me, what have you been thinking about so in depth?" Colby bit back the retort of 'you' as his mind frantically searched for an answer. His heart thudded in his chest as Sam's light baby blues stared straight at him never once wavering, 

 "I just enjoy thinking about what we can do when you get out of here. I'm going to help you and save you. Daydreaming about the day you are saved makes the day go by faster and smoother." Colby resisted the urge to cringe at how stupid that sounded. Sure he was hell bent on fixing Sam but he was some what of a realist and knew that Sam would never get out of there, not with his voices. Sam let out his signature dry laugh as Colby fought the urge to face palm. 

 "Alright Colby, I won't say it. I won't go on and tell you that you are an idiot. I'll let you remain in your happy optimistic world." Sam responded as he turned back to his notebook. Colby's complete optimism and attitude always confused Sam. How could some one look at him and see fixable. Sam only saw a blonde boy who was sick in the head who was a waste of space. Someone who used to much air and was broken. Sam was a boy who heard demeaning voices and shared urges no one in their right mind would have. He saw a boy who wore a sweatshirt in July. He was broken and he didn't understand how Colby could believe that he, and he alone could fix him. Colby shook his head slightly as he played with the hem of his shirt, 

 "I know I'm an idiot Sam. I know some times the things that spill out of my mouth sound too optimistic but do you want to know the truth? When I look at you I see a blonde boy who can be helped. I want to save you, I do but there is no true guarantee that I can no matter how many times I tell you I am. I can help though. I can listen and guide you in a certain direction. To be honest you are the only person who can stand up to the voices and save your self, I can only help." Colby looked up to see Sam staring at him, a blank look on his face. Both boys let the room remain silent. Tension in the air building, neither sure what to say. Colby stated nothing but the truth and Sam didn't know whether to laugh or to roll his eyes. Did Colby really think that he could help Sam save his self? Did Colby really believe he could stand up to the voices he has listened to his whole life? It was pathetic. The blonde slowly looked over at the brunette who was staring at the white floor, 

 "Well Colby, You have faith in the wrong boy. I can't save myself and you, you can't help."