Janiel Oneshots (Discontinued...Again)

96. Left in Crumbles (Angst/Fluff)

This oneshot is very personal, I hope you enjoy it.

Slight trigger warning

(Daniel's POV)

My life is falling apart. I've lost friends, my cousins hate me, and everyone seems to be ignoring me. I've tried getting people's attention but they just glare at me or just pretend that I'm not even there. I'm a disappointment. At least, that's what I consider myself. My entire family has turned against me, and I can pinpoint the exact day that it all started. I was driving my cousin around when she liked me. And I crashed. My cousin was smart and sat in the back, she wasn't hurt neither was I. But after the incident, she started giving me the cold shoulder. Not wanting to be near me. Not answering her messages, leaning on her other cousins instead of me.

The night after the crash, I laid awake on my bed, staring up at the ceiling. There was music playing through my earbuds but I could barely hear it through my tears and the self-deprecating thoughts screaming at me in my mind. Sure, it was good that I didn't hurt anyone in the accident, but I did ruin the relationship I had with my family. Somehow.

As for the people in school, I don't know why they hate me so much. I walk through the crowded hallways with my head down, skillfully avoiding the people rushing around me. The people who haven't left me, I don't consider friends. They're only with me because I have things that they want. Money and connections. And I continue to buy them things, hook them up with food and people. Just to keep them around. But sometimes, that's not enough. I want a real friend. Someone who would ask me what's wrong and not give up when I say nothing. Someone who would hold me as I break down, which has been happening more frequently since the accident. But most importantly, I want the person to show me some type of love.

"Hey Daniel, can you get me that new Switch game after school? My parents cut me off for three weeks and my brother took my car." "What do I get in return?" The stranger in front of me rubs his chin "I'll get you your favorite candy!" I scoff "do you even know what my favorite candy is Marcus?" More chin rubbing "Snickers?" "No." I've told him countless times, but no one remembers anything I tell them. "How about this. I get you your Switch game, you take a photo for yearbook?" Marcus groans "seriously? You know I hate getting my picture taken" "hmm, then no game for you." His eyes widen "no, no! I'll do it!"

I gave Marcus his game the next morning, along with his favorite candy. Kit-Kats. I told him I'd come looking for him and his sister during break for the picture, he hesitantly agreed. But when the break came, he suddenly vanished. As did his sister.

The halls were clear as I walked around the school, my camera dangling from my neck. Suddenly, I see a boy sitting on the staircase. He doesn't look familiar, is he new? Lifting my camera, I take a photo of the mysterious boy "hi." Looking up at me, the boy's eyes widen "oh um. Hi, I didn't know you were there." "Yeah, you looked pretty deep in thought there. It's fine, I do that too." The boy nods, getting up and scurrying off. I frowned as I continued my journey down the now completely vacant hallways, stopping here and there to peek in on classes.

I arrive home late, my yearbook teacher had screamed at me for not taking any photographs that were needed. My parents were out, as usual, and my siblings had all moved out. I had the house to myself. Again. Sitting on my couch, I stare at the photograph I took of the boy on the stairwell. He has to be new, he doesn't look like anyone I've ever seen before. And if he isn't new, why did he talk to me? The majority of people in my school just leave without a word when I bump into them.

My parents never come home. I get a text from them saying they're moving out of state for retirement. I officially have no one. Entering one of the bathrooms, I open a cabinet, seeing my collection of razor blades haphazardly placed in the small drawer. Picking one up, I twirl it around between my fingers for a moment before placing the sharpest edge against my skin. I hiss at the sensation as blood begins flooding both sides of the razor. I fall to the floor in defeat, my arm having five new slashes through it, painting it red.