Just Friends (A Jaime Preciado Fanfiction)

'You're Not Alone In This'

When we get in the car, they ask me a billion questions about my life in the month they were gone.

"Okay. Would you just like me to bulletpoint the interesting events in my month?"

"Please. all of the details." Mike says from the backseat.

"Okay..uh, I ordered some clothes online. I got new vans. I started listening to Brand New, who are amazing, by the way. Oh, and I made an actual friend. besides you guys."

"Replacing us?? Who is it?" Vic asks.

"No, not replacing you. Finding someone to hang out with when you leave for a month. His name is Jaime. He's new and awesome. We seriously hung out for 3 hours yesterday and all we did was listen to Mayday Parade and talk about concerts we've been to."

"He? It's a boy?" Mike asks, suspiciously.

"Yes, it's a boy. Is that a problem?"

"Well, I mean, we'll have to decide that when we meet him," Vic says.

I roll my eyes but secretly love how much they care.

"We're not dating. We're just friends."

"Do you like him?"

A smile forms on my lips and I feel my face go bright red.

"I'll take that as a yes." Mike says and I laugh nervously.

"What? I don't like him."

"Yes, obviously you do. Liars go to hell."

"Whatever."

I change the subject to their vacation and they ramble on about how amazing it was the whole way home.

I look down at my purse on the floor and my eye catches all the red marks on my arm. Panic sets through me as I remember that I'm not wearing long sleeves. How did they not notice? They will soon if I don't cover my arm.

"Vic, I need a hoodie." I end up cutting him off in the middle of a story before I even know what I'm saying, sliding my arm under my leg to cover it.

"Well, I can't exactly help you with that right now. All of mine are in my bag in the back."

"I look back at Mike.

"Do you have a hoodie with you?"

"Yeah, in my bag. It's 75°."

"Can I wear it, please?"

"Um..sure, one second."

He digs through his bag. I really shouldn't have brought it up like this. So much for not trying to act suspicious..

"Here," he says, handing it to me.

"Thank you." I slide it on, calming myself down and realize Vic is staring at me.

"What?!" I ask.

"Why the hell are you wearing a hoodie in 75° weather?"

"I'm cold," I lie and look out the window to avoid his gaze.

I feel their eyes boring into the back of my skull. The car is suddenly quiet. Damn it, they know.

"Raine." Mike questions, quietly.

"Yeah?"

"I'm gonna ask you something and I need you to be 100% honest, alright?"

Shit.

I look at him.

"I know what you're thinking, and I promise I'm fine." I glance at Vic and he's focused on the road, but has a worried expression on his face. I can always tell when he's nervous or worried. He furrows his eyebrows very slightly and doesn't talk much, just stares intently at whatever he's doing, hoping you won't notice how worried he is.

I look back at Mike and he's playing with his lip ring, a nervous habit of his that I picked up from him.

"I am fine." I repeat.

"Did you cut yourself?" Vic speaks up. He's a very straightforward, no-bullshit person. I should have considered that.

I sigh and turn to him.

"It doesn't matter. Because I'm fine."

"No, it does matter. If you did, you're obviously not fine and we can help with that."

"No, you can't. There's no way you can help. Unless you could magically make me have the guts to kill myself, my problems aren't going away anytime soon." I snap.

"Don't talk about killing yourself. You know that if you killed yourself, you would hurt everyone that cares about you and-" Vic speaks, now a mix of anger and disappointment fills his voice.

"You and Mike? It would hurt you and Mike. You guys are the only people who care about me."

"No, we're not," Mike speaks up. "Our parents care about you, your family cares about you-"

"My dad? That's the only 'family' I've been around in years."

"That doesn't mean they don't care. And you never answered the question." Vic states.

It's crazy how fast the mood changed in the car. Ten minutes ago, we were so happy. Catching up on the month's events like nothing happened.

Now, the only talk is of broken promises and disappointment. I can't find it in myself to admit I cut myself. They pretty much know, but I promised I'd never do it again.

The harshness in Vic's voice makes me realize that they're going to be disappointed in me. They've always been super supportive and I don't remember them ever getting mad at me. What if they realize that they can't trust me? Did I really screw this up too? I can't have the only people I love leave me.

"Raine?" Mike speaks from behind me.

I take a deep breath and try to blink away the tears forming in my eyes.

"Yes, I did. Just please don't hate me. I really wasn't planning on it. My dad just said some things that pushed me over the edge."

"You can't believe what your dad says," Vic says and takes my hand. I smile at the gesture. Maybe he doesn't hate me.

"You can't let it get to you. I can't even imagine how much it hurts to hear him say all the bullshit he spews out, but you have to know that he doesn't mean it. He's bitter that your mom did what she did and he's taking it out on you. Believe me, it pisses me off so much, and if it wasn't going to jeopardize our relationship, Mike and I would've been over there getting in his face a long time ago. I know we weren't here, and I'm so sorry. But, please call one of us if you get to that state. I know you feel like you're bothering us, but both of us would much rather be woken up at 3am to help you than you hurting yourself. You're too beautiful for that." he finishes and kisses my hand. I smile at him, despite the tears rolling down my face.

"You're not alone in this, Raine." Mike speaks up. "You're never alone. we're always here. and you know that your mom is so proud of you."

This pushes me over the edge. I feel tears fall freely from my eyes as I break down into almost sobs.

My mom has always been a touchy subject for me. We were super close, until she began drinking and became depressed when I was 12. She killed herself when I was 13. My dad hasn't gone a day since without getting drunk and blaming me.

We pull up at a stoplight and Mike motions for me to climb in back. I do, and he hugs me tightly as I lay my head on his shoulder.

"Don't cry, sweetheart." he says.