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Preference•He Finds Out You Self-Harm (Payton)

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I'll do some more of these but I just wanted to get a chapter out.

Payton
"The boys all really loved meeting you," Payton says as we enter my small apartment. I set my bag down on the counter.
"I really liked meeting them, too. You have some great friends." I turn around and smile at him. He smiles back.
Payton and I have been friends for a little over two years now. We just came back from filming a video in LA for Payton's YouTube channel that some of his friends were in, too. My apartment is just outside the city, so we came back here.
"Yeah, they are great. It was fun all hanging out together." He nudges my arm, then looks down at my wrist. "What's that?"
"What's what?" I ask, looking down at my wrist. A bit of gauze can be seen under my hoodie sleeve. "Oh, that's nothing important."
"You aren't a good liar. What's up?" He crosses his arms over his chest and quirks an eyebrow up at me.
"Nothing." I shake my head and sit on the counter in front of him. He stands in front of me and holds my hands out.
"What's wrong? You look sad," he whispers. I just give him a sad smile and shake my head. He sighs. "Are you going to tell me what's wrong with your wrists or do I have to figure out?"
"Payton, don't. It's fine." I try to pull my arms away, but he holds my hands tightly. "Payton, let go."
He shakes his head, dropping my left arm and pulling out my right one. He pushes my sleeve up and starts to unwrap my gauze-covered forearm.
"What are these?" he asks quietly, setting the gauze on the counter and looking up at me. "Why do you have cuts all over your arm?"
"Payton, please stop. I don't want to talk about it." I look away from him, not wanting to make eye contact, but he puts his hand on my cheek and moves my face so that I'm forced to look at him.
"Are you doing this to yourself?" Payton asks, tears starting to slide down his cheeks. I lean into his hand, beginning to cry myself. "Hey, what's going on? Why are you cutting yourself?"
"Payton. Oh, Payton," I whisper. I lean forward and wrap my arms around his neck. He hugs me tightly, rubbing my back while I cry.
   "Take your time. Talk when you're ready," he whispers against my ear. I nod softly, trying to catch my breath.
   "It's just-I don't feel anything anymore without it, Payton." I pull away from our hug so I can look at him. "I don't feel happy. I don't feel loved. I don't even feel sad anymore. I'm past the point of feeling anything. It's miserable. Cutting my wrists, Payton, it's the only thing I feel anymore. The pain of that blade means I'm still alive, means I haven't killed myself yet. Means that even though I don't feel loved by anyone, I'm still hanging on."
   "But you are loved by someone," he says through his tears, holding my face with both his hands. "I'm standing right in front of you. I love you, don't you see that? I love you. You can't do this to yourself anymore. I'll make you feel something else. I'll make you feel loved."
   "Payton," I whisper. He pulls me forward and kisses me softly, slowly.
   "I love you. I've loved you since the day I met you, okay? You gotta stop it. You have to quit. Promise me?" He holds my forehead against his, our lips so close that they almost touch when he speaks. "You gotta promise."
   "I promise, Payton. I promise." I nod, and he smiles before kissing me roughly.
   Payton holds my waist tightly as he kisses me. He kisses down my neck, along my jaw, my ear.
   "I'm gonna make you feel loved, darling."