You Don't Know What It's Like (Kellic)

Chapter 15

Kellin's P.O.V

Once we got news that Vic was actually okay, my nerves chilled a bit. Though it made me a bit edgy. I was pacing circles around the bleached white waiting room for any indication as to whether we could see him or not. I'd have to be patient. I'm sure his family wants to see him first. But I'm just a little bit selfish.

I can't deny the ecstatic feeling that replaced the fear. There was still a bit of sadness, mainly because we're here. Because Vic is broken and I allowed it. I'm blaming myself though I know I shouldn't. All I want right now is to fall asleep in his arms and pretend that this never happened. I want my best friend back. The real and happy Vic. That's all I want.

There was a tall guy with black hair and tattoos approaching the lot of us. Mama and Papa Fuentes stood up, holding onto one another like a life line. Their relationship is one I'd like to mirror. They love each other deeply and they show it. I want that with Vic. But do I love him? I've always loved him like a brother, I think. I've never felt it with anyone outside my mother and Vic, but the way I've felt towards him has always felt a bit different. I never thought much of it till now.

I didn't catch the doctors words, but Mike pulled me into a room following them. Mama and Papa Fuentes already had him in an embrace with tears streaming down their faces.

I'm not too familiar with the whole suicide watch thing, but aren't they supposed to contain him for so long? Not that I'm complaining.

Slurs of Spanish flew between the family. I'd assume for the sake of their privacy. Mama Fuentes glanced at me with a saddened smile, pulling me in for a hug.

Her lips hovered beside my ear, whispering something I didn't comprehend until she and the rest had left the room, leaving Vic and I alone.

His expression broke my heart. Sadness, fear, and guilt colored his face like shades of smudged grey and black on a canvas.

I couldn't move or speak. The only thing I could understand right now was the overwhelming sense of attraction and desperation towards the Hispanic standing in front of me. Taking one glance, he seems to be perfectly fine. Though that's not hardly the case.

Slurred memories of him laying on the bathroom floor flashed through my mind like a slideshow. I say memories, though it was merely a few hours ago.

His lips moved to speak, but I had took a step forward, wrapping my arms around him. He pulled me close and ran a hand through my hair, which only led to a wave of tears to flow down my cheeks.

"I'm so sorry." He spoke softly.

Why should he have to apologize? I should be. I didn't check on him. I let it get this far, unnoticed, or rather at fault of the abundance of self-pity for the way I had been living. I had been living whereas Vic had barely been existing. You can exist and not live.

I couldn't form a coherent sentence without sobbing. Why am I crying? I'd never admit to myself why. The only reason I was comfortable with was the one I'm sticking with: I'm scared of losing my best friend.

Vic sat back on the uncomfortable mattress, pulling me into his lap. I'd deal with the unsettling feeling of stiff cotton wrapped over in ages old plastic to be held by him. I wouldn't have this any other way. You don't really know what you have until it's threatened to be taken from you. You don't exactly appreciate it enough.

My hysteric sobbing had died down, leaving me with swollen lips and hiccups. I hate that kind of crying. The kind that wears you out. That takes every ounce of energy left from you till you can't physically cry anymore and you're left feeling numb.

There's only one thing I want to know, and I'm not sure if he's comfortable with talking about it. Though I'd try. Only for the sake of helping him recover.

"Why?" I broke the silence with my weak voice that didn't sound quite like a voice anymore.

His hand faltered stroking my hair, but he quickly recovered obviously trying to hide it. I noticed though.

He spoke up, filling the room with his velvety voice. One that I could listen to forever. "Have you ever felt- alone?" He had to search for the word.

I nodded, tangling my fingers in his hand that wasn't running through my hair.

"This is going to sound awful, but in advance, I don't mean it that way." He squeezed my shoulders reassuringly. "I felt so alone."

The statement was vague. "You have me. You've had me." I said, a bit offended. Though I remembered his earlier words.

"You don't understand. I could've been surrounded by thousands of people yet I still felt sick. The kind of sick feeling you get when you're homesick. Except that feeling goes away once you get home. Mine never went away." The way he was describing it made sense, but why? I didn't interrupt.

"I had you. I had Jenna. I had Mike and the rest of my family to fall back on. Though I felt that if I did, I'd be considered attention seeking. Quite honestly, I don't know why I did it." He trailed off, more than likely in his own thoughts.

I've never been in his shoes, but I've heard people talk about it. Depressed people can be happy. They can be sad too. They don't have to have a reason to be sad though. And I think that's what fucks with them most. They're so sad, broken, and helpless and they have no idea why.

"I didn't feel like the world had a use for me. Just egotistical pricks climbing to the top using our corpses for their stairway, ya' know?"

I don't know, but I nodded.

Right now, I made a promise to myself- a promise to Vic: I'd do everything to show him that the world is a beautiful place. That not everyone is so bad.