LUCAS

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR - "BUTTERFLY WEEDS"

SEPTEMBER 30TH, SUNDAY

"ZERO DAYS."

I paused, looking at the calendar that had been placed on the bedside table, today's date circled in a bright, red saturated marker.

30th of September, two thirty-six in the morning.

The view outside the window was drenched in darkness, the scenery drastically contrasting from the inside of the room, which was brightly lit by a ceiling light. Outside, nothing remained except for a few dimly lit rooms from different skyscrapers, radiating white alongside the vehicles that drove on the road.

After days and days of planning, discussing through different ways that I could easily commit to, it was happening.

I reached over, barely being able to just get hold of the handle of the bottom drawer. I grasped the silver cutlery cautiously, careful as to not drop it and create a sharp noise.

I placed the knife on the tray table, next to the blue water bottle, and the blue towel.

I wondered how they'd react.

I'd preferred if they neglected and overlooked it, quickly acknowledging the fact before casting the piece of information into the back of their minds, never to be touched again. 

But that, was nothing but a vision, in hopes that they would simply forget about me, no longer their child, friend, or anything that might come after it.

In hopes, in oh so desperate hopes, that I wouldn't cause more harm in death than I already did when living.

However, I knew that could be not further from what would happen.

My mother's vibrant, cerulean blue eyes, would look utterly defeated and broken, and tears would seep from each corner as her tired frame shook from her sobs. My father's arms would be around her, desperately trying to retrieve whatever that was left of his wife.

Ro would probably be hiding in a bathroom stall or a janitor's closet, shielding herself from the outside world, refusing to let her own emotions affect others. Alex would cry, and would try to cling onto Spencer for any kind of physical comfort that he had always preferred, and Spencer would hug him back, like he always did.

Myles would stand alone and tall, his features calm as he attempted to comfort others, convinced that they needed it more than him. When on the inside, he was the one that was truly desperate and the one that needed comforting the most.

And finally, Nathan.

His sparkling green eyes, his light brown hair, and his lips that were infinitely stuck in a carefree smile.

I refused to think, refused to imagine how his delicate, boyish features would form into pained expressions.

I couldn't bear them.

But it was for the best.

And hopefully, my name would slowly fade out from their memories, washed out, and eventually disappear.

Hopefully.

I looked through my phone, tapping into email icon, and into the drafts that I had previously saved on the device. After scanning through the paragraphs, verifying that all the letters had been addressed to the correct email accounts, I placed it aside.

I laid out the three separate envelopes in front of me, all evenly parted on the grey tray table. One was addressed to the two figures that raised me, one was addressed to the forever smiling girl in pink, and the last one, that I had made sure to keep open, was addressed to him - the boy that I held the dearest to my heart.

I had debated countless times if the letters were a good choice, and had asked myself why the idea had seemed so dangerously appealing. The letters scribbled onto the pieces of paper were selfish, useless and contradictory to what would be the best.

They also dripped with a deadly entice.

The letters won't help anyone, I had told myself, and if anything, would make the matter of erasing my presence even harder.

And perhaps, selfishly, I wanted them to remember.

I glanced down at my pale wrists, sickly veins peeking through the feeble skin.

Was I ready?

Was I ready to leave all that I loved so much behind? Was I ready to never see the people that I treasured with all that I had? Was I ready to just close my eyes, and to never open them again?

I was not.

But I was certain I never would be.

And just as I reached over to grab the blue towel, the phone that had been placed beside me, vibrated.

Nate ⚾

5 New Messages

I smiled, remembering the day that he had forced me to place an emoji next to his name in my contacts, using those god forbid puppy dog eyes on me until I agreed.

I questioned if I should read his next message, and wondered why he would still be awake, not to mention text me at such an ungodly hour.

My finger hesitated above the message, and I told myself that I should just put down my phone, put the silver against my skin and just be done with it.

Or, maybe, I could be selfish.

One last time.

One last time.

I tapped on the message.

Nate ⚾ | 2:38 A.M.

lucas

Nate ⚾| 2:38 A.M.

are you awake

Me | 2:38 A.M.

Nate, it's two in the morning.

Me | 2:38 A.M.

Why are you awake?

Nate ⚾| 2:39 A.M.

can we video call

Nate ⚾| 2:39 A.M.

please

Me | 2:38 A.M.

What's wrong?

Nate ⚾| 2:39 A.M.

i really need to see you

"I really need to see you."

My heart was by my throat, and before my mind could properly work through his messages, my fingers moved immediately, driven by nothing but the idea of seeing him one more time.

Me | 2:39 A.M.

Should I call you, or do you want to call me?

My phone immediately rang.

I pressed on the "Accept" button.

"Oh my god, Lucas," He said. His voice was relieved, hoarse and in a tone that made me wonder why he was in such a mood at such a time. Fighting down the smile that forced the corners of my lips to raise, I put up my index finger to my lips, gesturing for him to quiet down and pause as I searched for my earphones, finally finding them after a momentary search before plugging them.

He was sat by his desk, his phone propped up by something on his desk. His brown curls were dishevelled, his bottom lip was between his teeth, and a thin, red t-shirt hung from his figure. He was just as breathtaking as ever.

However, I noticed the usual, upbeat glimmer in his eyes had been simmering.

And with closer inspection, his entire presence seemed shaken, layered with tension and anxiety. Even in the dim lighting, his hands were visibly trembling.

"Nathan, why did you call?" I whispered, concerned.

"I-" He paused and shuffled around in his seat, flustered as his cheeks began to flush with pink. His words were rather slurred, possibly from uneasiness and the system of his body clock trying to force him into resting.

In the softest, tiniest voice I've heard, he whispered.

"I just... Just wanted to hear your voice."

My god.

The phrase settled into my mind, sending shivers down my spine.

Why did he have to say it like that?

My heart fluttered, and the dreaded swarm of butterflies took over once more, engulfing and destroying everything in their path. Every part of my skin burned and tingled as the familiar warmth returned to my stomach, causing my breath to hitch in my throat.

In an attempt to dawdle the pace that my chest was thrumming at, I asked, "Why?"

He tilted his head down, taking a deep breath in. "Just, please keep talking."

"What do you want me to talk about?"

"Anything."

I paused, hesitant and confused by his sudden, unexpected vulnerability. Bloodshot emerald eyes, messy chocolate hair, delicate and hoarse voice - all the harder to resist.

"Uh, I suppose I can talk about yesterday." He nodded frantically, as if desperate and urgent for me to continue my sentence.

I recalled about yesterday in my mind - how my head spun at the lightest of moments, how I've never felt as weak and ill as today, and how it's been getting harder and harder to take the next struggling breath.

"Yesterday's just been plain and normal, like always."

How my parents came to visit, and they both seemed completely miserable, exhausted and tired from the multiple jobs and shifts they've been forced to take. How their smiles were blatantly forced and fake. How the silver jewellery was still missing from mom's ring finger, and how I was the reason for all of this.

"Mom and dad came this morning."

How, when they left, made the hot tears that I had been resisting pour like a neverending fountain. How they mistook my tears as a fear of their departure, and promised that they'd be back tomorrow. How I told them not to come tomorrow, wanting them to finally rest, and to not be the first ones to find their son, dead in his hospital bed.

"It's been fine."

I shifted my attention back onto the boy, whose gaze was still plastered to the floor, seemingly unaware that I had stopped speaking.

I sighed.

"Nate, what happened?"

Nathan raised his head slowly, his eyes anywhere but the screen. He murmured, "I had a nightmare."

I hummed, raising one of my brows. "Wanna tell me about it?"

Nathan placed his elbow on his desk, the familiar background that was his bedroom coming into view as he tilted his head, propping himself up by his hand. His green, gorgeous eyes peeked out from behind his lashes, his lips lightly pursed together.

After a moment of shared silence, he said, "It was about you."

I had already expected the answer, but still cursed my heart for the sudden increase in speed that it was pulsing at. Nathan paused, eyes searching for my reaction to his words. I nodded, urging him to continue.

He looked down again, gesturing weakly with his hands. "You just didn't wake up one morning, and then something happened, and they, they said you were gone." He swallowed.

His bottom lip began to tremble as his voice quivered, getting softer and softer with each word.

"And I didn't know what to do, I just, I couldn't imagine you not being there, and then all of a sudden you weren't, and I-"

He sniffled.

"It didn't make sense, and I was so scared, and everything was so confusing, and I, I was all alone." His voice quickened in pace, turning into a light ramble as tear after tear trailed down his cheeks. "I couldn't take it, and I just wanted you to come back."

He covered his face with his hands, the light sniffles here and there evolving into quiet sobs as his shoulders trembled. He buried his face into the palms of his hands, his warm tears smothered by the sudden contact.

At that moment, I wished for nothing more than to reach through the screen, pull him close to me and murmur sweet nothings as I held him.

But instead, I sat and listened.

Was this what he would look like?

"I- I don't wanna be alone, Luke, I really, really-" His voice was slightly muffled from the palm of his hands, and it was now hoarse from the cries that wrecked through his body. "I don't know what I'll do without you, and I- I just, just don't leave me, please." He sobbed. "Please."

His continuous stream of consciousness spilt out from between his lips, sounding delirious. My heart shrivelled and withered, pulsing with ache.

I was right.

I couldn't bear it.

"Nathan, I'm here, I'm right here," I said, with the most delicate tone I could muster. The jarring blade stared at me from across the table, and the bitterness of deceit was tasted on my tongue as I said, "I'm not going anywhere."

Nathan inhaled sharply, letting out a shaky and trembling breath in return.

"Deep breaths, Nate, deep breaths. Breathe in, breathe out," I instructed, watching as his heaving chest slowly raised and lowered with a steady rhythm. "You're doing great, just take deep breaths."

His eyes were clamped shut, his breaths still shaky.

I supplicated to the gods that this scene would not be re-enacted after the sunrise, and wished for nothing more but to completely erase myself from his mind.

I don't want this.

I don't want him to be like this, over me.

Neither of us spoke, and for a good three minutes, the call was filled with nothing other than Nathan's quiet breathing, and if it was audible to him, the loud drumming of my heart.

"Nate," I started, interrupting the silence. "If I do, you know, die-" He flinched at the word, but made no attempts to stop me from speaking, for we both understood that it was a likely, maybe too likely for comfort, scenario.

I wondered if I should've used the word 'When' instead of 'If', but I couldn't stand him struggle, so I continued with If.

"If I do die sometime in the near future," I paused, guilt seeping into every inch of my body and engulfing it.  "I really, really don't want you to cry, but uh, I think we both know that it would be extremely unlikely." He emitted a few faint chuckles, brushing strands of his brown hair aside.

I smiled bitterly, and prepared myself to tell the possibly most genuine and sincere words that I would ever get to say to him again.

"But in all honesty, you're possibly the best thing that has ever happened to me, and I could never ask for a better best friend." Best friend.

"And I don't want it to, I guess, change your life? In fact, I'd probably prefer it if you just pretend like nothing ever happened and, I don't know, have a pop tart or something."

He laughed, somehow finding the childish attempt of a joke I had made funny. "You know that won't happen."

For a moment, I wondered if that would be a good or bad thing, but before I could come to a conclusion, I mustered up a smile. "I mean, look on the bright side, you won't be forced into eating raw fish anymore."

"You don't force me into anything, I only go with you every time because I want to." I raised one of my brows, sceptical. He sighed, a gentle smile on his lips. "Because it makes you happy, and whatever makes you happy, makes me happy."

I chuckled at his words, but let my smile fade as I saw the sincerity in his eyes.

His gaze was soft, as if he was staring into the eyes of a beloved, and I could feel myself tense up while I wondered how many girls would kill to receive his stare.

It was laughable, but I allowed myself to indulge in the thought for as long as I could.

I was the only one he had done this to.

Well, for the moment, at least.

"Okay, now go to bed," I said, turning away so the crimson on my cheek would be less apparent to his eyes. He pouted, looking at me through those half-lidded eyes of his. "Don't pout at me, mister, it's four hours past your bedtime."

"I went to bed and just woke up! You're the one who's awake at two in the morning for some reason," He murmured.

The glaringly bright blade stared back at me from the end of the table, the light reflecting off of the silver surface.

"I felt a bit sick, woke up and had some water," I lied, ripping my eyes away from the tray table and desperately trying to ignore the pit of dread building up in my stomach. His eyes were of soft concern, but I simply shrugged to the best of my abilities.

"Besides, if I'm not awake at two in the morning, who's going to listen to you cry and ramble about a nightmare?" I asked, attempting to divert the matter of the conversation.

A sleepy grin forced itself onto his lips. He giggled, all sleep-sweet. "I wouldn't call anyone except for you anyway."

Nathan Smith, you adorable, astonishing, lovable boy. Please stop making it so hard for me.

I didn't know what it was, but it caused me to struggle.

Was it the silver dog tag that dangled from his neck?

"Please don't go," I pleaded, but it sounded like, "Mhm."

Was it how his olive skin shined in the dim light?

"Please stay," I begged, but it sounded like, "Now go to bed."

Maybe it was his smile, gentle and unknowing.

"I don't want to be alone." - "Bye."

Maybe it was just me.

"Nighty night," He replied.

Whatever.

"Wait, Nathan."

My heartbeat was as loud as drums, thumping relentlessly in my ears. My hands were nothing but shaky, coated by a fine mesh of sweat. My mind was racing, and nothing made sense as the two words escaped my lips.

But hey, at least I've got nothing to lose.

He titled his head, confused by my outburst of his name. "Hm?"

I looked at the screen in front of me, watching the boy whose features I had long remembered, burned and scarred into my head.

"I love you."

He was still, noiseless and calm.

My breath hitched.

Then, he smiled. "I love you too."

My heart stopped.

And for a moment, I had thought that he would reciprocate the long brew emotions that I had stored up so carefully, that we would finally be something more.

"Of course I do," He had murmured, quiet, and more like he was reciting it to himself. He smiled. "We're best friends."

We're best friends.

"Let's be friends!"

He nodded, smiling back.

"Best friends!"

Of course he does, we're best friends.

We're nothing but best friends.

The best, best, best of friends.

I chuckled bitterly, looking at the pair of green eyes that I had grown to adore.

"Goodnight, Nate."

"Bye-bye."

His farewell was ensued by sounds of beeping, indicating that the call had finally ended.

I reached over to the bedside table, wrapping the earphones neatly around the mobile as I placed it down on the wooden surface. I lifted the three envelopes from the tray table, resting them next to the bedside table alongside the phone.

At least I said it.

I looked outside the window once more, the darkness and shade-providing comfort to my restlessness.

For them, I said, for them.

I pushed them out of my head.

It's me, I said, it was never them.

I grabbed the blue water bottle from the table, taking a final sip from it before gently resting it on the wooden surface, next to the fruit bowl that he would always take an apple from, treasuring the sight one last time.

I laid back into the soft surface of the pillows, my right hand reaching up and grasping the cold silver that I had been accustomed to find around my neck.

I slid it off my neck, reaching over my head and wrapping it delicately in a piece of tissue paper, sliding it into the envelope that belonged to him, closing it off.

I placed the blue towel under my wrist with a few extra layers of tissue paper, hoping that the blood wouldn't seep through it, stain the white bedsheets, and inconvenience the hospital staff with the washing up.

And as I take in a soft breath, I decided that I would still do the same if he had returned these foolish feelings.

Even if he had said yes, even if he did tell me that he loved me with all his heart, and even if he scrambled into my room and kissed me senseless at this exact moment, I would still be in this exact scenario.

I was tired. Loving him didn't change that.

Maybe it was too late, anyway.

Watching as my sickly thin fingers slid against the silver of the knife, I smiled at the one thing that I still had control over.

Scars were upon scars, and now fresh red trampled those marks.

And as the memories of razors and boxcutters from cupboards, red bleeding into white bandages, and tugging down the sleeve of my sweater rushed into my mind, I ignored the tears trailing down my cheeks.

I've waited for way too long.

Finally.

Goodnight.

"Is- I-"

I looked to my right, putting down the red firetruck that was in my hand. A boy stood next to me in the sandpit, specks of sand in his brown hair.

He pointed at my red truck, making grabby hands and murmuring words. He opened and closed his fingers, still pointed towards my truck. "I- uh-h-"

I looked down, confused.

He stared at me.

I stared back.

He cried.

I blinked, alarmed at the suddenness of the sobbing that was coming from the boy. He put his hands up to his eyes, crying, "F-Fire!"

I looked at the firetruck on the sand, realising what he wanted. I held my truck in my right hand and walked towards the boy, putting the red toy on the sand in front of him.

"Here you go," I said, kneeling down next to the boy. I pat his head. "Don't cry."

He sniffled, pulling his hands away from his eyes. He looked up at me.

I like his eyes.

He grabbed the firetruck with his hands, rolling its wheels on the sand and making two tracks behind it. I looked at him play with my truck.

Pretty.

"My name is Lucas," I said, putting my hand in front of him. "What's yours?"

His eyes got prettier than before.

"Nathan," He said, shaking my hand. His fingers were shaking, so I pat him on the head again. I pat his head like how mom would pat my head when I'm scared.

Nathan.

I like Nathan.

I smiled at him.

"Let's be friends!"

Nathan nodded, smiling back.

"Best friends!"