If There's a Reason He's Still Alive

vingt-trois

A/N: Italics mean dreams/flashbacks in this chapter. It changes. I'm sorry.

Trigger Warning: Mention of self-harm (Don't read if this is a trigger, stay safe everyone!)

Alex POV (my one true love, Alex POV)

I am sitting on a blanket next to another man, a journal open in my lap. I can't see his face or really anything about him. But even without that I know that he loves me. It's afternoon, that I can tell. 

Overhead the wind blows through the branches of the giant tree we are sitting under. 

It's strange. I never remember going on this date with John. Maybe it's something I wish we did at one point. John likes nature, I remember that much, but he's mostly into animals, not wide-open yellowed fields. 

I poise my pen above the page, prepared to write. 

Suddenly, I feel warmth on my non-writing hand and look down to see his hand wrapped around mine. I smile. 

"I love you, Alex," he says. The voice is familiar, but I can't for the life of me figure out who it belongs to. Still, I'm happy. This is perfect. 

I turn to the man, smiling, but he's facing away now. 

"I love you too," I begin. Then the dream shifts. Now I'm sitting at a table that I don't recognize, a laptop open in front of me. A chat pops up on the screen. I can't see the name on the chat, it's really blurry. 

"So, I'm sorry," says mystery person, "I just don't think we're right for eachother."

Shit, no. I see my own hand reach down to type out a reply. I feel like my brain is in a fog. It was just a few months ago, that perfect summer afternoon, and now mystery person is breaking up with me?

"No," I type, "Please, don't break up with me."

"Too late," they respond, "I don't like you anymore. You're just so... so broken. And I can't live with that."

"I'll love you for forever," I message in a last attempt to save this, but the response pops up almost instantly. Or should I say lack of response?

Message Send Failure. It appears your number has been blocked. 

No.

"No," I cry. I wrap my arms around my pillow and squeeze it, trying to calm myself down. It doesn't work. 

Why? Why did it have to happen? Why can't somebody stay for once? They all leave. Even in my dreams. 

What time is it even?

5:01 AM. 

I might as well just get up. 

I look over to the other cot and see that Samuel is still curled up happily in his bed, snoring softly. Looking to the right of my cot I see a small glowing panel in the wall. I see a similar one on Samuel's wall. 

That's nice of them to give us personal lights. I turn mine on and pull my journal out of the small basket by the foot of my bed. I flip open the cover.

'Calming Writing Techniques:'. Oh yes, I remember when Thomas and I did this together. 

I flip a few more pages until I come to a blank one. 

I pour out what happened onto the page. Thomas won't see it and neither will anybody else, unless I let them, something Thomas keeps emphasizing. So I just let it all out.