Wow I'm actually starting a story.
Hey, I know we don't talk, and don't ask how I got your number, I just wanted to let you know that I know what it's like... cutting. I'll understand if you ignore this. ~Ryan
Ryan? Ryan Ross? Brendon's best friend. You've got to be kidding me. I shoved my phone back into my pocket and opened the door to my house, dropping my key in the process.
"Hey Christian, how was school?" My dad, Joshua asked as I threw my backpack on a chair and kicked my shoes off. He was currently standing in front of the sink washing dishes. I was adopted by him and my other dad Andrew when I was 3. He was the 'girl', you could say, in their relationship. He had longish black hair, no longer than that Ryan kid actually, blue eyes, he's really skinny with no muscle whatsoever, and about 5'6". He had some piercings and tattoos, I probably couldn't name them all. My other dad Andrew was more built than him with shorter brown hair, it looked alot like Brendon's now that I think of it, chocolate brown eyes, and is about 5'8" who also had some piercings and tattoos. They were the definition of 'emo parents'.
"Great dad." I said hoarsly.
"What happened?" He said as he put down the plate he was washing and turned around. The arms of his black long sleeve shirt was rolled up to his elbows and his grey skinny jeans had soap on them. His face dropped as soon as he saw my bloody lip. "Oh my gosh honey what happened?!" He ran over to me and grabbed my face gently.
"I ran into a bathroom stall." I muttered to him. He let out a sigh and let go of my face.
"Christian you can tell me anything you know that. I love you, I just want to help." He said and I looked at the ground.
"I know. C-can I ask you something?" I looked up at him with tears in my eyes.
"Of course baby anything."
"Will you tell me what I did wrong? What I did to make everyone else hate me." I started crying and he pulled me into a hugged. I had my arms around his torso, my head on his chest, and he had one hand on my neck and one on my back, holding as tight as he could. Rocking back and forth as he lead me to the couch. We sat down and he started shushing me. He now had one hand on my back and the other on the side of my face.
"It's ok. Everything's going to be ok." He whispered. For a second I actually believed him. I pulled back a little and looked at him. "Christian listen to me. Don't trust too much, don't hope too much, and don't love too much. Because that too much can hurt you so much."
We sat for ten minutes like that. I had stopped crying but I didn't want to let him go. I felt safe and, for once, happy.
"What are you thinking?" He asked looking down at me. I shrugged and held onto him tighter. "Come on tell me, please."
“I’ve come to the point where nothing matters anymore and the things I used to care about just aren’t worth fighting for.”
"Oh." Was all he said. "Promise me something."
"Promise me that no matter what, no matter how hard things get for you, you won't give up. That you'll remember Andrew and I and you'll remember what it would do to us if you left."
"I'm assuming you're talking about suicide." I said and he nodded. "I promise."
"Great, now what are we going to do about these?" He said gently grabbing my arm and gesturing to my cuts. My eyes widened and filled with tears.
"I'm so sorry." I cried. "I'm so so sorry."
"No, don't you dare say sorry. I know why you did this and it's ok. Do I like it? No. But I know how hard it is to quit." He rubbed his thumb over some of the cuts.
"How would you know?" I looked over at his arm and noticed the faint scars. "Oh."
"Yeah." He looked ashamed for a second but then looked at me. "I regret doing them, but they're who I am now." He smiled at me and I hugged him again. "If I can get through this you sure as hell can. You're strong Christian." There was a knock on the door before I could say anything back. "I'll be right back." He said before kissing my forehead and standing up. I heard the door open and faint voices talking. "Christian, someone's here to see you."
"His name's Brendon." Fuck.