concealer // a.i.

4 // problems.

ashton wasn't sure what it was that made him want to see more of farrah. maybe it was that he could relate to her, in a way. whatever it was, he didn't want to let her go.

"why do you do it?" he asked her one day. farrah glanced up at him. they were in the empty corner of the library again, after school, where farrah was covering up a new cut.

"i'll tell you my story if you tell me yours," farrah said simply. ashton hesitated, and then nodded. if he could help farrah with her problems, then he'd have to open up about his first.

"it started about a year ago," ashton retraced his steps. "i'd just joined this school...it seemed new, and exciting." farrah nodded, she remembered seeing a new kid with a faded band shirt with holes and missing sleeves and skinny jeans, ripped until they were nothing but strings of denim wrapped around his legs.

"i guess after some big guy decided to shove me into a wall, calling me 'emo', that everything went downhill from there." ashton felt weak as he continued his story. he felt helpless.

he continued to tell farrah about every single detail that haunted him, every day that he was tormented by his peers. and eventually, he told her about how he succumbed to the pressure.

"it seemed like a good idea," ashton whispered. "i just needed it. it was there."

farrah nodded in understanding, clamping her eyes shut before she ended up crying. ashton took her hands into his. he looked into her eyes, and she opened them, staring back at him.

"it doesn't change anything," ashton told her. "pain on top of pain doesn't make things better. it eliminates the part where everything gets better."

farrah didn't stop looking at him. they were both quiet, and leaned in slowly.