ᴋᴍᴛᴛᴘ | ғᴀᴄᴋ

23 ☜

monday, january 10th, 2018.

"finn?" jack called, finn lifted his head to see the shorter boy in the doorway of the stall, henry had left the door swung open. "sophia told me she sent bowers to come get you... i'm so sorry, i didn't know," jack cried, he ran over and slid down to the floor next to me.

"leave me alone," finn said with a monotone voice, why couldn't he just be alone for one damn second?
jack looked hurt, he reached out for finn's hand but finn pulled away. "i-i can't handle this anymore jack," finn said, he rested his head back in his hands, "i can't do it. i can't live in constant fear that everyone will know."

"it's not that big of a deal, there are some really supportive people out there," jack cooed. "yea? what about the people who aren't so supportive like my step dad? are they gonna beat me like he does? call me disgusting? call me a faggot? a fairy? it's a pretty fucking big deal, i'm risking my life by being with you!" finn ranted, he covered his mouth after realizing all of the tea he just spilled. "forget it," he said.

"what the hell? why didn't you tell me any of this?" jack asked, finn didn't answer- he didn't even look up. "look at me."

"finn fucking look at me!" jack yelled, finn lifted his head to look at jack, who was very angry. "i can't do this right now," finn spoke, he sat up, grabbed his book bag, whipped away the blood with his black sleeve, and walked out, leaving jack bewildered.

✯

finn had walked home and was now sitting on his bed on the verge of a complete break down. he got up and paced around his room anxiously, what could he do with himself? he couldn't stop thinking about how disgusting he was. how awful he was. how dead he should be.

the tall, thin boy ran his fingers through his curly hair, what was he to do? should he go back to school? no. his face hurt. his lungs hurt. his heart hurt. everything hurt. what does someone in so much pain do? is it possible to live on?

finn laid down on the floor and stared at the ceiling, knees hugged to his chest. he soon turned his head and hid his face away in his arms, he was huddled in a ball- sobbing. the one time he didn't want to cry, now look at him. what a pussy. finn cried harder, which didn't seem possible at the moment because of the raw feeling of his throat, or the incoherent noises coming from his vocal cords, or the lakes of tears.

"fuck!" he screamed at the top of his lungs, he began banging his hands on the dark, wooden floor. "f-fuck, fuck, fuck!" his throat could bleed, he felt old. he felt scared. he didn't feel alive. am i still the same person? he thought, do i exist?

this evening, finn didn't have the strength to pick himself up off of the cold, hard floor. he didn't have the strength to do a lot of things. instead, he lied there, motionless with the occasional shake from crying. he felt dead- and because of today, and every day prior- he wanted to be dead.