Breathe

why.

~tw whole chapter~

Before Clay could get any words, any explanation out to George, tears began to fall down onto the table. There was no excuse, there were no words that would explain and justify why Clay continued to self-harm. Clay knew that his habit had meaning, meaning he hadn't told Nick but knew he should reveal. Was now the time ? Maybe it was. Clay knew this was going to be really hard. As much as he didn't want to, he had to explain.

George reached across the table and grabbed Clay's arm, pulling it close to the former and rolling up the sleeve. George delicately traced the lines individually with his forefinger up to the middle of Clay's forearm, where he stopped and looked back up at the younger boy.

"Clay, what's going on ?"

Clay sniffed. This was going to be hard.

Nick was sitting at the head of the table beside them, tracing the lines on the palm of his hand with his thumb, clearly anxious and upset. Clay owed the both of them an explanation, even if it was just a mediocre one. But Clay wasn't one for mediocrity. He was going to tell them everything.

Sighing, he began.

"I.. I know when I said that my self-harm has no meaning, it was mostly true. But I think-" he paused, "I think there's more to it than that."

Nick nodded solemnly as George stared at the table, still holding onto Clay, tears streaming down his face.

"I don't want to kill myself. I really don't. It's just... Life has no color right now. It's just waking up and doing the same old thing over and over. And it's easier now, now that I'm with you guys, because my days are different. But I'm not going anywhere. I'm stuck in the same place I have been for years and no matter how hard I try, I can't get un-stuck.

"When I look in the mirror, I see a shell. An encasement of a man who used to be okay. I don't see Clay, I don't see Dream. All I see is a body. It's used and overlooked and tired. I hate what I see when I look in the mirror. And I know that's wrong. I know that my mindset is off. But I can't get away from it."

Nick was crying now, too. He moved over and took Clay's other hand, tracing the first few scars on his wrist before just holding Clay.

"Guys, I-" Clay mustered, his voice breaking, "I don't feel anything anymore."

Clay let more tears fall. This was perhaps the most vulnerable he had been in a long time, and it hurt more than words could express. George squeezed his hand lightly.

"And that's why you've-"

"That's why I've been cutting," Clay confirmed. "I want to feel something again. I don't want to be empty. I'm stuck, guys. I've been stuck for years. And sure, I have moments where it feels like I'm making progress, where I'm genuinely sure that I'm getting better. But just as I take one step forward, I take two steps back. And I'm so tired."

Nick started to say something but stopped himself. George said nothing. The three men sat at the table, Nick and George holding Clay, crying and wishing that this wasn't happening.

"I really want to get better, guys. I do. I hate living like this."

Nick spoke up. "You have to get professional help, Clay, you know that."

Clay shook his head. "No, Nick, please. I do not want to be hospitalized."

George looked up. "Would they hospitalize him ?" he asked Nick under his breath.

Nick nodded. "Yeah. He's technically a danger to himself," he replied quietly.

Clay sniffed. He hurt so badly, he felt so much remorse for hurting his two best friends in the entire world, and yet it felt so good to have everything out on the table. He felt like a weight had been lifted off of his chest and tossed into the void, never to be seen again. His secret was no longer his own.

Nick wiped his eyes. "Clay, how do you think we should move forward ?"

Clay shook his head. "I don't know. I don't want to get professional help; I do think I can do this if I have support."

George perked up. "Yes. You can do this. And you have incredible support from me and from Nick. We will support you always."

Clay pulled his arms back from his friends and wiped his eyes. He pulled his sweatshirt sleeves over his wrists to hide the scars. Even if he was willing to heal, he was still afraid of the judgement. He took a deep, shaky breath and leaned back in his chair.

"I want to do this without professional help. I don't want to go into a hospital and be hooked up to IVs and medicines and PICC lines and catheters. I want to stay here and play Minecraft and code plugins and hang out with my two best friends in the entire world."

Nick nodded. "Okay, man. I trust you."

Clay sighed in relief. Nick had taken all of his blades, after all, so at the moment there was no way he could cut himself unless he went into the kitchen, which at that point was too much work. Clay had no way of harming himself.

Nick turned to George. "I think we should let you, Clay, do your own thing, but we will be checking in on you and you will respond. If you need our support you call for one or both of us. It doesn't matter if it's 3 in the morning or we're drunk or anything. We will be here."

George nodded in consent. "Yes, Clay, exactly. We are holding you accountable. You will not go unchecked anymore. We love you too much to let you keep doing this to yourself."

Clay just sat there, numb. As much as he knew this was for the better, he didn't like the idea of having to check in with Nick and George. Nevertheless, he was going to do it; it was too risky at this point not to.

"And how about workouts ?" Nick asked. "That should help. You, me, and George, we all work out, every single day, no skips." 

George agreed. "Yep! And lots of water and lots of sleep."

Clay laughed. He didn't know when the last time he got a full, restful night's sleep was. But he was willing to try.

"Thank you guys. Seriously. For everything."

Nick brushed it off. "Dude, we've been over this, it's not a problem. We are here for you, man."

They all stood up and laughed at Nick's tear stains on his shirt. Then the three went into the kitchen and threw some leftover spaghetti in the microwave for dinner. They listened to trashy music, sang into wooden spoons, and even danced a little bit in the kitchen.

Clay soaked it all up like a sponge. He was so relieved that everything was out in the open, and that the relationship between the three of them had not changed at all. His worst fear had been conquered, and he was on to face new worlds and fight new demons.

This is what they meant when they said support.

________

hey guys!! it's em :) i hope you all are enjoying my story. i've been using personal experiences to make this as realistic as possible, and i hope that's how it's coming across :) let me know if there's something i could do differently, i welcome constructive criticism. also, if you enjoyed, definitely let me know somehow. it really motivates me and it makes my day :) i love you all so much and i hope you have a wonderful day <3

-em