Lonely

Nathaniel sighed, surrendering and putting the dish where it had been taken from. The raven settled back into place, having ended up on the edge of the chair trying to get away. He shook his head a little to order his hair, relaxing his shoulders after the hustle and bustle.

"I worry a lot," he answered. "I don't think others will be very happy if something happens to you again. While you don't do it for yourself, at least do it for those who care, okay?"

"As if someone really cared about me", he thought. He took the spoon reluctantly and raised it to his mouth, leaning on his lip so as not to leave a drop of soup on the silverware.

He could feel how his body thanked him for that small portion of food after several hours without having any food inside. However, after that spoonful his stomach roared, begging for a little more of the soup he had previously rejected. He hadn't realized how hungry he had been up to that moment, being forced to taste a little more and a little and another...

The younger boy's dimples appeared on his cheeks as he smiled. Sebastian had to look away immediately, not wanting to seem interested at all, although he was dying to touch those little holes that he made in the skin of the silver haired. He remembered that Hirsch also had these dimples –not as much as the boy who was sitting next to him, but he had them– and, being his friend, he had that right to touch them as many times as he wanted. But now that she was not with him, quelling that urge was difficult.

"Thank you," was the only thing Nathaniel said before continuing to eat.

"You're supposed to help me study, not force me to eat." He held those words in his mouth, nibbling his inner cheek. That warm feeling of the moment felt so strange that he didn't know what else to say. Who would be grateful to someone who only had a little food? And, as if going back to his childhood, he felt like a little boy being forced to eat by his parents.

But something inside him had softened. Just a little.

♡.・`°★・°´ .∙✯∙.`°・★°´・.♡

Sebastian was arranging the books he had on the desk. He threw away the wrinkled sheets that he had ripped out of his notebooks when he made a mistake and the pens that no longer worked. He was surprised to see that even though it didn't look like it, the study space was a mess.

He was in complete darkness, the light coming through the window being the only one that dimly illuminated his room. He thought there was no need to light the lamps or the chandelier, nor did he want the neighbors to notice that he was still awake late at night.

The alarm clock read eleven o'clock at night, by which time he should already be sleeping. However, he could not comfort the sleep, so he decided to do something productive and arrange his things in the room. Insomnia was common for him, and although he was medicated to avoid nights awake, it was something he had grown used to. After some time, he began to believe that the pills he had been prescribed had lost their main effect, because no matter how much he took, they did not cause any change. Or at least that's how it felt.

He then had to stay awake much of the night until he finally fell asleep. At first he just lay in his bed staring at the ceiling and counting until he lost count and had to start over. Then he would try to read one of those books on the bedside tables; however, and no matter how much he wore his frame lenses, the light from the lamps hurt his eyes. As a last option, he lit the scented candles trying to make them lull him to sleep. But the more that lonely moment was repeated at night, the more he wanted to get out of bed.

Sadly, there weren't many things he could do within those four walls. His room was generally not very disorganized –except for his desk– and it was always clean. So sometimes he would unfold and fold clothes, rearrange his bed, organize his books alphabetically, by color or by theme, among other things. Not having something to do was hateful.

And at that time, he doubted he would be able to talk to anyone because most of them would probably be asleep by now, and if they weren't, he didn't have someone to talk to, anyway.

"I'm better this way," he told himself as he finished lifting the last trash from the floor next to the leg of the desk.

It was something that was constantly repeated. He had lived in loneliness for too long so longer alone wouldn't hurt him, right? Besides that, loneliness was something he knew perfectly well. He didn't need someone else to survive. It was just him, him, and him.

As he stood up again, one of the gifts that the redhead had given him earlier appeared in his vision. A framed photograph. It was the first photo that had been taken. Hirsch had insisted too much to take a picture together, since the boy was too photogenic and Sebastian had no choice but to accept, his discomfort being seen in his smile as the redhead took the photo. The frame was made of wood and was decorated exclusively by the boy with pink glitters and prints, among other decorations that made the gift even more special.

Nathaniel's words returned to his mind, causing him to unconsciously clench his fists. Who could care about him? His father? His mother? Hirsch? Nobody really did. The only ones who cared for him when he passed out were Jade and Jack. "Now I realize who my friends were from the beginning." He lowered the photograph, making its face look downward.

It would be a long night.