Magcon preferences

He is suicidal (His POV)

Forewarned the feels might hit hard

Hayes:

I watch the vine of my brother and I. The comments reading. "who is that kid, Nash is so much cuter. His nose is weird. He's trying too hard. Just stahp you're not even funny." I tugged on my hair, I just wasn't good enough.

I walked to the bathroom and shut the door. I grabbed my hidden razor behind my shaving stuff. I twirled the razor in my hand.

"I'm not good like will." I said dragging the razor over my wrist. The blood automatically rising.

"I'm not funny and handsome like Nash." another cut.

"I'm a terrible boyfriend." another cut. An another to where I've lost count.

"I should just.... die." I felt my head rise as my eyes looked at (y/n)'s prescription medicine. without thinking I found myself opening the cap. The blue pills piling into my hand. Then I hear her voice. Beautiful like silk and so calm like a lovely spring breeze. My head is light even though my tears weigh a ton.

She appears before me, her eyes wide her beautiful face contorted in horror. I feel my legs go weak.

"Hayes." She says to me

"If only you were real." I say reaching up to touch her face. But as I do I notice the blood still coming out of my wrists.

"Hayes oh my god." She grabs her phone crying. Why is she crying.

"Don't cry. I'm sure nash will help you." I say my voice strained. Everything is starting to fade. Now my head does feel like there is an elephant sitting on top of it.

"Hayes baby, I love you, we're getting you to the hospital."

Nash:

Rude. Douche. Womanizer. Dick.

Each word I read felt like a slap in the face, the pain actually feeling good.

Go die. Ugly ass. who even are you? So hideous.

"Is that what you want? You want me to do go die." I say my eyes stinging from the tears.

"Fine." I Stand up an walk to the hall closet where we hold our guns.

"When I'm on the news, dead and in a coffin, at least I can make someone happy."

"Nash so I was thinking-" (y/n) walks through the front door." She looks at room, the computer has my twitter pulled up, the closet door still open and a gun in my hand.

"Oh my god nash." She says throwing her purse down and rushing to me. She yanks the gun out of my hand and wraps her arms around me.

"Don't you even dare." She says sobbing into my shirt. I break down as well.

"I'm so sorry, I just can't do this anymore."

"Yes you can Nash, I can help you. I'm here."

Cameron:

I haven't seen (y/n) in almost two months and we haven't been talking much. She's probably found this perfect guy. The guy of her dreams. She took my blade, she knew how I was and she helped me. I helped her we healed each other. Where is he now?

"Mahogany, do you have like an eyeliner pencil sharpener or like just a sharpener?" She shrugged a little but nodded and went to her bathroom.

"I'm not gunna get it back am I?" I shrugged. No.

I went to my room and shut the door. This all felt to familiar I had been here so many times. Alone and depressed. We'd promised each other we'd never do this again. I broke the sharpener, removing the small blade. After rinsing it off I sat down. Did I want to die, yes. I didn't close my eyes, I watched with an odd fascination as the blood raised to the top of my skin as the blade ran across. With each cut I pushed harder and deeper. The pain was all I focused on. It was an escape. I was so lost that I didn't even see the door open.