Noah Centineo Imagines

Lines (angst)

{TW!!! SELF HARM!!}

First Person POV

I sit in my room. I'm crying, hard. My grandmother, whom I have lived with for my 16 years of life, isn't home. But it's probably for the better anyway, right? She stresses me out, yelling at me for every little thing. School stresses me out too, having to see my friend, Noah, and his stupid girlfriend, Emily, tongue wrestle and grope each other is downright annoying. I sit in my room, thinking about the horrible bullying I get from my peers, they call my overweight and ugly. They say my bangs are horrible. My hair is short and makes me look like a lesbian. (Well, I mean........... they're not wrong haha) I cry harder. Harder and harder until my fucking stomach aches. Until my head hurts. I think. How can I feel better? Thats when I see it. My pencil sharpener. I walk to it and grabbed a shoe. I bang my shoe on it until it finally breaks. I look for the razor inside it. I find it, it is chipped a little but that's okay. I pick up the shattered remnants of my sharpener and the pencil shavings. I put them in the trash, gripping the razor in my hand. I sit on my bed and press the small, sharp object into my skin, pulling it sideways and leaving a small mark that only bring up mere dots of blood. I cut the same spot and now they're wider, deeper, bringing more blood. I continue to slice open my wrists, my tears stopping. It felt good. (In reality cutting is horrible, never do it, thanks!) I hide the razor when I realize it's time for bed. I get some band aids and put them over the wounds. I strip down to underwear and a white tee, climb into bed, and close my eyes. That's when I start to dream about Noah. Sweet, dark-haired Noah. I snap awake. Noah? My friend? No no no, that CANNOT be right. I lay back down and slowly fall asleep.

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The next day, I'm at school. I walk down the hall, wearing my usual hoodie and school uniform. "Gracen! (Or y/n) wait!" A familiar voice says. I turn to see Noah, his brown eyes running over me. "Hey, long time, no see." I say bitterly. He doesn't notice the touch of annoyance in my voice. "I've been really worried about you." My stomach flips when he says that. Does he know? No, he can't know. He takes my hand. "Emily broke up with me." He mumbles, as if I care. "Let me see your arms. Please." I jerk my hand away, shocked that he could sense it. "No." I say. He frowns and grabs my hand, lifting my sleeve before I can stop him. He examines my arms, tears welling in his eyes. I can tell he's disappointed. I pull my hand away. "Noah, if you tell ANYONE, I'll murder you, understood?" I whisper shout. He nods but he won't look at me. I feel bad. Why? Why should I? He ditched me for sweet, cute, innocent Emmy. That stupid lying bitch. So why should I, Gracen, give two flying fucks about him being disappointed? Because you love him. I ignore the thought and go to class.