Chapter Text
jake ended up accidentally tripping over a stone, just like he fell head over heels for albert. he managed to catch himself with a slight scrape on his hands. he stood back up and steadied himself before grabbing his skateboard that was rolling away.
whatever god was up there didn't seem to favour him today, because they just had one thing after another coming- first the rejection, then the accidental fall, and now they've decided to make the clouds suddenly downpour rain, whilst jake was still walking. he didn't care though. if anything, he liked this deluge.
although, the torrent didn't seem to be letting up. it only worsened. his hair was completely drenched, and the rainwater on his face was creating
rivulets, mimicking the tears he was desperately trying to hide.
jake never cried. well... he rarely cried.
but with his heart feeling like it was being squeezed, walking alone in the rain after being practically ignored most of the hangout by his best friend? it was definitely tempting to cry.
he hunched over on a curb, feeling sick, like in the unluckiest man on earth. oh god, was he gonna vomit?
more pent-up tears stung behind his eyes, and a shaky, broken sob escaped his throat. eugh. such a weak noise, one that jake hated making.
why must every single odd be against him?
//⚠️ tw: sh, do not continue past this point if u are triggered by such topics, stay safe!!!
jake suddenly remembered.
back in middle school, only 3 years ago, jake used to cut himself all of the time.
he remembered that his wrists and upper arms were covered in scars and intentional slits. jake had cut deep once, just to the reticular layer of dermis, but it was deep enough that he had to wear this big, flashy bandage that basically screamed 'give me attention, i self harm!' (although attention was never jakes intention).
he remembered alberts choked weeps as he stared at the cuts, because of course albert tried to take off jakes zip-up hoodie in summer, fearing that his bestfriend may undergo heatstroke. it was a playful yet worry-riddled action, that led to a disaster.
he remembered his own needy voice, begging albert not to tell the teachers, trying to bribe and persuade him in any way he could.
his efforts were ignored.
he remembered the room they interviewed him in, a yellow room (probably to boost mood as yellow is a 'happy colour') with mental health posters plastered on the walls.
"do u want to kill urself, jake?"
"...not really. i just need someone to listen to me."
now, on a random, deserted curb, whilst being a 15 year old with stronger feelings than when he was 12, it wasn't hard to guess what he was going to do.
albert had made him throw his box cutter away. jake had promised to never cut again.
but albert wasnt here. it was probably just gonna be a few cuts anyway, nothing extravagant like before.
oh boy, was he so wrong.
staring down at the marred skin on his wrist, he felt the need to replicate his older depths.
the sound of skin ripping filled the silence. jake always attempted the same method- pressure, slide.
but this time, with a little more pressure than before.
blood steadily ran down his arm in thin streams. it dripped onto everything; the concrete, the asphalt on the road, and of course, his own clothes.
he slid the blade one more time, watching the incision fill with that red liquid he craved. he wiped the blood from the metal and pulled his sleeve down, satisfied. jake didn't exactly feel guilty for the broken promise, it was an indescribable feeling. a painful mix of glee and melancholy.
jake stared at the spot where a new, fresh cluster of slits hid.
another sob escaped his throat.