Jeffmads: A Story

Four

James knew it was too good to last.

Despite the new reassurance that Thomas was bi, he continued to cut.

He knew he shouldn't, he knew Thomas would be upset.

If he finds out, the voice in his head reassured.

James hated that voice.

He knew it was right though. If Thomas didn't know, it couldn't hurt him.

Right?

But what if he does find out? James fretted internally.

He won't, the voice said again.

God, James thought in return, why can't you be this consoling when I have moments of self-doubt rather than fuel it?

Then he thought, I'm fucking insane.

Regardless, James continued down his path of self-destruction.

He'd discovered that if he cut deeper, he didn't need to cut as much. James hadn't bothered with covering his wounds either, preferring the added pain of having them rub and catch on his shirt sleeves.

This is wrong, some other voice in James' head persisted.

James knew it was right, yet he ignored it.

Eventually, James got sick.

It wasn't a rare occurrence, but this time it was different.

He didn't seem to be getting any better, and he hadn't been exposed to an illness anyways.

Regardless, James was laying in his bed, bundled in blankets yet still cold, cradling his phone in his hand.

Eventually, James managed to muster the energy to call Thomas.

"Hey, Tommy." James greeted, his voice raspy.

"Jemmy? Oh my god, you're sick! I'll be there in just a few minutes. I was getting worried when you didn't come to class."

James smiled slightly. "Okay. I'm, uh, in my room. See ya."

"Okay. Bye, James."

James ended the call.

As promised, Thomas let himself into James' house minutes later.

The door opened, revealing James' favorite mop of hair. "Hey, Jemmy." Thomas greeted, his voice soft.

James groaned in response.

Thomas chuckled. "That bad, huh?"

"Yeah." James rasped out.

"I'll go make soup."

Thomas left James' room, going to make the soup he promised.

Soon enough, Thomas returned, carrying James' soup.

James took it gratefully, thanking his friend. The pair curled up together, cherishing each other's company.

~~~

Two days past, and James was showing no sign of getting better.

James stared at his wrist. He hadn't cut with his sickness, he couldn't muster the energy to. Regardless, his previously made wounds were an angry red, as was the skin around it.

Distantly, the sound of James' front door reached him.

"Hey, James." Thomas said announcing his arrival quietly.