(Will's point of view)
~
It's weekend. Every week feels like a whole life. Every day feels like slowly dying. And then there are the weekends at the end.
And every time the question: heaven or hell?
This weekend I can stay at Nico's.
Heaven.
Last weekend he and his family visited their grandma or something like this and I had to stay at home.
Hell.
With my parents.
Bright burning hell.
Nico always tries to keep his weekends free, because he worries about me when he has to leave me at home.
I know I should tell him it's alright. I know it's childish to hide behind this boy. I know I should be strong enough to deal with my problems.
But I'm weak. And when he's with me, he makes me feel like I'm allowed to be weak, without making me feel weak.
It's wrong, but I'm thankful. When I'm with him it's alright.
I can breathe.
I deserve it to breathe.
It's okay. As long as he's with me.
I don't know why he actually spends so much time with me.
He could hang out with everyone, meet cool people, have fun, but instead he's hanging out with me.
I asked him once and he said that he is having fun with me.
And I'm so incredibly thankful.
I know he wouldn't lie. He never did.
I sit on his bed while he's making tea.
For some reason he strongly believes in that a cup of tea can make everything better.
So he's usually making about 20 cans of tea for us every day.
He's entering the room and hands me a cup, but when he sees how I pull a face he takes it back and puts it down on a table.
Of course he knows that my arm hurts. And also why.
When we started to be friends I tried to hide the scars, but he found out.
I remember this day pretty well, it was also here, in his room, and we also had tea.
I remember how I thought about what he would do now.
Probably he would tell me to stop.
That cutting myself won't change anything.
That there's no reason to do this.
That I need professional help.
That I just do it as a call for attention.
Any of the things people usually say.
But he just gave me the cup and hugged me.
That was the day I truly started to trust him. Because he knew that he can't just tell me to stop and that all my problems will disappear.
And I knew that he really cared.
At this time I wasn't in love with him yet.
But still- he was like an angel. He is one.
Now he's looking at my wrist worryingly.
'Will...Will this is getting worse and worse.'
'I know, I just-'
He's taking my hand.
Not in the way a couple would.
Just to tell me it's alright. Just to give me something I can hold.
~*~
(Nico's point of view)
~
Will already felt asleep on my couch, even it's just 10pm.
He never sleeps enough, he's always so tired.
I cover him with a blanket and sit down on the ground next to him, scrolling through tumbler.
Some people think it's strange that he stays here over night nearly every weekend, but that's ridiculous.
Just because I'm gay doesn't mean that I want to fuck every boy I see.
Will is just my friend.
I mean, I love him, but just as a friend.
So I think it's pretty normal that he stays here over weekend. Especially since his parents are the most horrible persons I've ever heard of and he's hella afraid of being at home.
I hate his parents.
I have just meet them two times or something, but I hate them.
For what they do to Will.
His father abuses him sometimes.
Sometimes he just yells at him without a reason or destroys his stuff.
But his mother is worse.
She just watches these things. And then she walks over to Will and tells him that it's his fault. That his father wouldn't have to do this if he would be just not that much of a fool.
If he knows how much he hurts her with being such a disappointment.
And she comes to him and tells him all this and she cries and she tells him it's his fault.
She tells him she wishes he wouldn't be alive.
His father may break his bones, but his mother broke him.
And now I try to fix it.
Not because I feel like I have to do this, or because there's no one else to care about him.
I just really, really want him to be happy.
And, even he doesn't know, he can't even imagine, but I need him too.
~*~
(Will's point of view)
~
I wake up. It's all dark around me, but after a while my eyes get used to it.
I'm covered with a blanket, laying on Nico's couch.
He's sleeping next to it on the floor and I'm pretty sure that this isn't very comfortable.
I quietly get up and carry him to his bed, then I lay down on his couch again, just lay in the darkness.
When I was little I was afraid of the darkness.
I thought it would be filled with monsters that would crawl out of the Shadows, grab you, make all your nightmares come true.
And I thought if I would turn on the lights, make my room full of bright light I would be safe from any harm and fear.
But I soon learned better.
Darkness is safe.
Darkness means you got a place to hide.
Its means it's night, and night means all the actual monsters are asleep.
And when you turn the light on they will wake up and find you.
Sleep then again isn't safe.
Sleep means dreaming, and dreaming means nightmares.
Or sometimes, when's a good dream, to wake up.
But when I'm here I sometimes can sleep.
Not always, but sometimes.
At least some hours.
And so I'm falling asleep again, slowly, while I can hear the calming noise of Nico's breathe.
