1) Another Tuesday.

I wake up in the morning, it's a Tuesday. Watching the ocean dry would probably, take less time than today. I try not to wake my roommate as I walk into the bathroom. I am up a few hours before he is. I close the door to the bathroom turn on the shower. Discard my Pajama pants, and look in the mirror.

I don't like the skinny, short guy looking back at me. Seriously, most people can see over him. He is pale, hair everywhere even though it is only six inches long. I said skinny id be happy if he were slim. Just a little muscle tone would be nice, a fit fifth-grader could beat him up. He needs a work out buddy, a friend, a real-life friend. All he has are friends on video games. He has two things going for him, he is well kept, only because he can't grow any real hair. His eyes, so blue, not like the sky, or the ocean, but a warm blue. A total contradiction in terms, but that is the color they are.

Ok, Wil, smile at him, your counselor says you have to smile at him. I fake a half little smile. "What joke." You wouldn't even need to see a counselor is you hadn't gotten caught trying to kill your self. But that was years ago. I look at his wrist, the scar is still there. The only thing you are good at is school, four classes, four A's. I turn around and step in the shower.

I love the water as it runs down my body. It washes away the dirt and for a short time washes away, the uneasy, awkward loner I am. And for about seven minutes I feel, relaxed, normal, at least what I think normal feels like. I suppose, that's not true. I know what normal feels like. I was twelve I had friends, and then I had feelings. The kind off feelings most guys feel for girls. Only I had them for Haden. I wanted to hold his hand, to rest my head on his shoulder, to lay under our tree and kiss him. Haden was my best friend, for some reason I thought he had them too. Probably because we were close, we even shard a bed when we would stay over at each other's houses.

It was one night when he was at my house. We were in my bed I put my arm around him. He didn't say anything so I told him I loved him. He got up and went to the couch, I was unaware that was the last time I'd talk to him. My dad was up for bible study asked Hayden why he was on the couch. He found me on my way to the bathroom. He picked me up by my shirt and beat me, badly, enough for me to go to the hospital. I was there for three days, with the only comfort of pain killers, and my truly submissive mother. She told me she didn't like what my dad had done. That he would never accept me for who I am, but she did.

I didn't go to school for two weeks, my dad learned. He learned that maybe the answers to his problems might be at the bottom of the next bottle of bourbon. He also learned, how much he could beat me before I needed to go to the hospital. And he learned where to beat me so that he didn't leave a mark, at least school was easier.

The third Monday after I told Hayden that I loved him. I step through the doors of the school, and no one spoke to me. Hayden had avoided me all day, I wanted to talk to him. I go to our table at lunch to talk to him, and one of my friends grabbed my tray and dropped it on the ground. Hayden looked at him, and nodded, the other kid said 'fags have no place'.

Middle school had been long, I learned to trust no one, and my feelings. The GSA club did the math, and tried to get me to join, many times. It was too late. I had already shut everyone out. It was bad, it got worse actually. Sophomore year, on my sixteenth birthday I earned a month-long stay in the mental hospital, after my first failed attempt on my life. While other kids, were thinking about dates, and getting their license I wanted to put an end to the suffering. Do what my dad had told me to do hundreds of times. To send a message to my mom, your next.

I step out of the shower. "That was then." My counselor was worried for me, going to school thirty miles from home might be 'triggering'. It is close enough to my mom I could ask her to take me to lunch or dinner. Far enough from my father for his drunk ass to hurt me. I no longer wanted to die, college had taught me that. I wear, unnoticed by most, my scares with pirde. Of where I had been, and where I am today. Who am I kidding that is what I tell my counselor.

I still get dark thoughts, I some times go to the bathroom and cause my self to bleed. Somewhere no one will find. You'd actually have to be with me, and no one will want to be with me.

"Woah Wil, this is too dark." I grab my towel and dry off. Get dressed, take my dirty clothes to my bed.

Troye's POV. (A few days ago)

"Troye, your grade in chem has only gotten worse. So that academic probation, is a suspension, go get dressed. Don't come back until you have a C." Coach says. The team laughs at me as I leave.

I fly out of bed and into the bathroom, and wash my face. "It was just a dream, Expect for the upcoming probation." Think Troye what to do? You got this, you have a solid 3.0, minus chem. Who takes Chem, no one on the team, they all took Rock's for Jocks."

I smile. I know what to do now, two birds one stone. You have been meaning to do this for a month now, he'll say yes, or you'll make him say yes.