[the boys; Language by Paperboy Fabre ft Brent Faiyaz]

TRIGGER WARNING: SUICIDAL FANTASIES/CONTEMPLATION. It's 100% not important to read it if you can't handle it. if you struggle with suicidal thoughts, please do not hesitate to skip the part between the asterisks (*) and please please please be careful with yourself. x

TWENTY-ONE: when you invest in yourself.

Trying to regulate my breathing was near-impossible once my worst possible fear at that moment had come true. Maybe my heart started picking up pace when Jade was already on the way to get Dad. All I knew was when he walked into the room, I was sitting on the edge of my bed, head hung down in between parted knees.

I breathed out a few shaky breaths, my head pounding and my throat closing up. I was gonna tell him on my own terms- or, at least that was what I told myself and now she was forcing this fucking intervention because she didn't think I looked as fine as I was.

I'd been way worse off than this, way more times than I could count and there was really no need for her to go get him.

Interrupt whatever he was doing so he could watch me maneuver through my own anxiety attack.

"Hey." That was my dad when he'd gotten close enough to watch the shaking of my hands. He'd knelt down right next to me, large hand placed across the expanse of my back and rubbing in circles. I tried to focus on that, tried to let go and focus on just his words, "hey, breathe-"

"I'm fine." I pushed, not moving much, only to clasp my own hands together on my forehead and I was breathing out through parted lips.

One, two, three... f-four, five-

"No he's not."

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. "Jade." I spoke up, looking up to meet her electric green eyes. She was leant on the doorframe yet again, arms crossed and jaw clenched and when I didn't say anything else, she raised her brows.

"If you're not gonna tell him I will." And I didn't know exactly what she was talking about but I knew that I didn't wanna hear the outcome of her threat. I gritted my teeth, my dad's hand halting on my shoulder now, clenching around the bone there comfortingly.

"Tell me what?" He was looking over at her and he had this confused look on his face, as if we'd kept a secret engagement from him like the way he did to me. When she only looked pointedly at me, he'd averted his gaze. "Tell me what, J?"

I shook my head then, closing my eyes and my heart was finally slowing. Swallowing over the lump in my throat, I focused back on the fact that he'd transitioned to hugging me tightly to him. Standing on shaky legs, I hugged him back, allowing him that comfort even if it didn't do much for me.

My dad always found a comfort in me knowing that he was there and sometimes, that was enough to push away the questioning.

But, it wasn't this time... it wasn't enough because when he was done and I'd sat back down, he was still standing stagnant in my room. "Julian..." HIs voice was normal, something they'd realize was better to coax an explanation out of me years prior.

Tell your parents, someone, please.

When he didn't move his gaze off of me, I figured now was as good a time as any. "I don't-" Sucking in a breath, I pushed sweaty palms against my knees. "I don't know w-what to do."

"About what?" Everything.

I didn't know what to say either, how to string words into a coherent sentence to tell him exactly how I was feeling. I'd never felt so hopeless before, never felt so full of absolutely nothing and that was what shocked me.

Normally, when I was down, I snapped. I would blow up and there would always be someone there to stitch me back together. That wasn't healthy, that wasn't how people who knew how to manage this disease lived. "I'm sorry." I croaked out in the silence.

You could try harder. "I-I don't know what-what... And I need you to tell me..." what to do, how to fix this.

I just wanted everything to be fucking simple, the imbalance in my brain tat constantly made me unhappy... I wanted a fucking break for a day at least. "I haven't been okay." It was easier to open up when he sat down beside me, hands folded and elbows resting on his knees. My dad said nothing then, only nodded. "In-in a... a long time."

I tried to figure out what to say to ease him afterwards, it always felt like I was unloading a pile of crap on him so I always tried to soften the blow when admitting I needed help.

But I didn't have any reassuring words anymore, no more 'I'll be okay, Dad.'

"What does that mean?" He asked, maybe he was trying to get me to admit it myself.

"I'm sorry." I tried, I really tried to be okay.

"Jules..."

Trying not to stutter proved useless when my breathing became more erratic, voice shaky and I bit my lip to hold back tears that sprung to my eyes. "I-I need help." Ernest's earnest words were playing on repeat and I thought off all the awful things I'd said, all the awful things I did. I was so fucked up that I really almost killed myself.

That realization was a punch in the stomach and I was speaking before I could think it over. "I was o-off my meds for too long, they won't- they won't do anything, I tried to keep taking them." I've been taking them for a few days now. "I think I-I need different meds, Idon'tknow."

It was silent and Jade was walking further into the room, a familiar book in her hands.

My dad was still focused on me, still massaging soothingly at my shoulder when Jade inched closer, handing him the little composition book. My heart caught in my throat.

He furrowed his brows, looking up at her before down at the notebook nestled in his hands and he removed his arm from me to open it. "What is this?"

Lurching forwards, I yanked it from his grasp. "Where'd you find that?" I didn't even notice it was missing and she was looking at me like she was about to cry. She'd read it, probably all of it and I was so fucking angry now. "You went through my stuff?"

Who the hell did she think she was? My fucking therapist?

"You left it in the kitchen, you're lucky I found it and not Keenan." God.

My dad was looking at me now, holding his hand out as if he expected me to hand it over. "Please don't." My voice was broken when he tugged on the corner of the book, soft look on his face as if he was looking for permission. I choked out a, "Dad-"

And when I allowed it to slip from my fingers, I instantly regretted it, wanting to curl up in my bed and cry for the rest of the trip. I watched as his features went from confused to distraught and he was flipping through pages and pages.

It was silent again, only the sound of his breath catching at something particularly alarming and maybe I knew someone would read these one day. Maybe I was slightly relieved that he was reading it in front of me rather than after he'd lowered my casket.

Something in me wanted him to read it now, wanted him to take the book from my hands and my fingers clasped around the crucifix hanging from my neck. I watched tears roll down his cheeks before he wiped them away, dragging a rough hand over his face, gold band glimmering.

"Th-there will be peace?" And he was looking at me with so much pain, his voice broke on the end. "What? What does that even..." he was flipping through.

***

I remembered the day I wrote that. That day, my brain was telling me to jog up the stairs to the roof of the Tropicana Athletic dorm... it was saying that after that, there would be peace.

I wrote that, over and over and over again until it stopped feeling like that was the only answer to that hole in my chest and my dad just wouldn't get that.

They said that when you jumped... there was a chance that all the cells in your body would just... burst, that you'd go before you hit the ground. At that last moment, succumbing, just a bag of flesh and no soul, there would be a moment of peace.

I remembered how it was when I first got into poetry. Something about the tumblr posts and the-and the performance of slam poetry suicide notes, how- how it made me feel like killing myself would be artistic, that wanting to kill myself should've made me more creative.

I fell into a cycle of writing really pretty paragraphs about it and it was the moment I realized how sick I actually was.

He doesn't need to read this.

That was what was written on the next page, my mind on the edge. My fantasies about death, my theories about how weak my body was, how I was sure I didn't have the fighting instinct that would save my life. I wrote about how cruel blowing my brains out in the bathroom would be... how women preferred drowning and how it almost felt selfish to leave a mess.

He doesn't need to read this. He doesn't need to read this. Jade had read this.

And it scared her.

I stopped him before he could get to it, my hands grabbing at his and maybe he saw it in my eyes. My father didn't need to know the gory details and once he saw me like that he wouldn't be able to unsee it.

Being trapped with it, I didn't want it to keep him up at night.

***

He paused, holding his hand over his mouth and he took a second before exhaling, I was still holding my breath. "W-What can I do?"

I don't know. "I don't wanna f-feel like this anymore."

"It's okay." He closed the book, placing it behind him and he offered a smile that was more of a grimace. Nodding, he pulled me closer, wrapping his arms around me again and I let my forehead drop onto his shoulder. "It's okay."

Moving shaky arms, I fought the urge to push him away and instead held him there. I could hear Jade approaching then, the side of the bed beside me dipping.

"It's not." Pulling away, I screwed my eyes shut to keep myself from crying again. "I'm supposed to have my shit together-"

"No one has their shit together especially not at your age." He chuckled softly then leaning closer and bumping his shoulder into mine to lighten the mood. "We just get really good at pretending."

He was trying to make me relax but all I could think of was how little effort I put in to make sure I didn't fall so deep. I just... let it happen. "I-I'm not trying-"

At that, my dad cut me off. "You're nineteen, Julian, your only job is to be nineteen." Raking a hand through my hair, he offered a smile again, it pulling the corners of his lips up and his eyes scrunched at the edges. "And my job is to make sure that you feel safe... and loved enough to call when you feel like this."

Jade was leaning closer now, head going to rest on my other shoulder and she spoke softly. "I'm sorry." I could hear the sincerity in her voice and I knew that she didn't understand until now. She didn't get how bad it was because it had never been that bad and she pushed.

Resting my head on hers, I pulled her hand into mine, squeezing it tightly for a second. She was the first to pull away, she always was, offering a scrunch of her nose but not removing her hand from mine. That was enough.

We sat like that for a while, all three of us processing and I could feel my dad holding his breath.

"I don't want you to get married."

At that, my dad sighed again, going to give me a watered-down declaration of his love for Andria. "Julian..."

"And it's selfish." I continued. "And I know it's selfish, and unfair of me to ask but I-I don't... I don't want it to happen." Offering a small smile, I met his eyes and he looked so confused and conflicted and I shrugged. "And I have to figure out why." Because its not fair to you.

He smiled weakly in reciprocation then and I knew that he understood.

: : :

The next day, my dad had taken me back to the clinic. Dr. Lueeth no longer worked there, that much was obvious when my dad asked to see him and the lady behind the desk had given an insincere, confused smile. She asked him to fill out a stack of paperwork and pointed us to a waiting area.

After a repeat of the most emotional point in my adolescent life, I grimaced answering the same questions the same way years later, no changes despite talking about how fucked up I'd been and how much worse it felt and my dad sat beside me, frown on his face the entire time.

We left, my dad scheduling a therapy session and dropping me off. It was three days later when we'd gotten a new prescription and some screening results. He'd opened the mail that day to find new bottle of antidepressants, some long ass name etched across the front, that I wasn't even going to try and pronounce.

"How do you feel?" He would ask every day, every time he woke up to see me still in bed and came home from work to find me in the same spot. And it progressed like that for the rest of the week, me rebooting and adjusting to more pills that left me numb most of the day.

They said it would be like that until my serotonin levels were back in rotation or some bullshit, basically until the pills started working. Every adjustment period was different but it always lasted around the same time, they'd put me on some heavy shit now... I was either nauseous or tired most of the time.

My dad was in my room this time right after I'd finished puking up the breakfast I'd eaten with my medication that morning. He was sitting on my desk chair when I made my way into my room sluggishly, wiping a freckled hand against my mouth.

I was about to crawl back in bed but with him there, I forced myself to stay awake. Sitting down on my bed, I laughed at his question. He asked everyday as if the feeling would change, I'd be like this for another week maybe two before the pills started actually working.

Still, it was nice that he tried. "Like a million bucks." I offered, rolling my eyes with a small smile pulling at the corners of my lips to ease him.

He nodded as if he understood, leaning back in the swivel chair. Biting his lip, he looked troubled and honestly, I didn't know if I had the energy to even think about what he wanted to talk about.

Just say what you're trying to say before I pass out.

Jason Douglas gritted his teeth uncomfortably as he shifted to sit up straight. "I was thinking... we should talk about school."

And I saw it coming, I knew he would want to talk about it eventually as I was supposed to leave at the end of the week. I hated the concern on his face then, the way he danced around the subject as if I wasn't strong enough to talk about it. "What about it?"

"I don't think it's good for you."

Trying to keep the irritation at bay, I sighed. "Dad, I'm fine."

"Julian, you had an episode, you realize that, right?" And as he normally did, he instantly went on the offense. When he was convinced, he rarely gave time for an opposing opinion, a trait that made him a fantastic lawyer... but his communication skills were shot.

Maybe that was where I got it from.

My dad sighed at the annoyance in my since, he could always tell when I was angry and he always tried to navigate it... only ever succeeding in making me feel invalid. They always did, the slight frown, the furrowed brows... the acting like they didn't know how to handle me when I was the same person I was before they knew.

"Look, we can- we can get your credits transferred and if you still wanna live on campus, we can think about U of M." But I didn't want to think of U of M because I knew that I didn't have a shot there. He was talking again before I could reject it. "I just don't think it's a good idea for you to be in California right now."

If I ace my final, I might pass Creative Writing. I wasn't that behind in Calculus, if I passed both tests... I could use those credits. I definitely failed Poli-Sci and there was no way in hell -according to the professor himself- that I was gonna pass my Comm class.

"They won't accept me." That was that. I might've had a chance before but with how bad I slacked that year so far, Michigan State wouldn't even accept me. "My grades are shit."

Frankly, I was surprised I wasn't on academic probation.

"What about Washtenaw?"

I could hear the hesitance in his voice, the desperation. There was no way -accept if overwhelmed with a fear that I was on the way to a mental breakdown- that my lawyer father would want me to commute everyday to a community college.

The school you went to, the degree you got, that was everything in his career... I was sure that if I was normal, it would be expected of me as well. Go to a good school, get a nice degree, maybe play soccer if I was fucking lucky until I graduated and settled down with a nice girl.

I'd be something like an accountant or a real estate agent with a 9 to 5, that was the dream they probably had for me until I developed all these fucking defects. Dealing with that disappointment in myself was hard enough without him pitying me as well.

"I-I still wanna play." And write, I still want to write.

My dad had grimaced again, head tilted in that incredibly patronizing way. "Is that really a good idea?" He asked. "You were off your meds for a while-"

I tried not to laugh, tried not to be bitter at the fact that I actually thought this time would be different. "Dad, I'm nineteen."

"Julian-"

He was rejecting the idea before even letting it sit in the air for a few minutes, he acted like he knew what was best for me when he didn't know anything about what I'd been going through. He didn't know what I could and could not handle.

"I-I need you to trust me." I tried, a different tactic. Normally, I'd just nod, that was all I did every other time they got so overprotective and it was overbearing now. I needed to get a grip on my own life. "I-I know that's not really fair for me to ask of you or e-easy after everything."

Scratching at my palm, I kept my eyes on my knees, hoping he understood the message when I didn't have the energy to look at him. It was a struggle to keep my eyes open let alone to speak and upon realizing that I was mumbling, I cleared my throat.

Fighting the sedation, I looked up and looked over at him watching me through wide eyes.

He nodded then and I intertwined my fingers to keep from fidgeting. "I'm just, I'm sick of people... treating me like I- like I can't take care of myself..." acting like I'll break if you're just a little too hard on me, "you guys, you say it so much it makes me feel like I can't."

The doctors visits, and the therapy, and the 'did you take your meds? you have to take your meds,' I couldn't do it anymore. "I'm-I'm not weak o-or a kid anymore, Dad and-and I need you- I need you to let me make decisions for myself."

Because the helplessness was what really set me off the last time and it felt pathetic, that dragged me further, I didn't think I could handle it myself.

It was silent, it was always so fucking silent.

He took a second, took a sigh, looked up at me, and nodded. "Okay." HIs agreement was hesitant but almost as if he realized it himself, he shook his head and tried again. "Okay, what do you wanna do?"

What did I want to do? I never really thought about it, I instantly dismissed it when Ben had asked before... now that I had the option to decide for myself, what was my plan?

"If I stay here, all the classes that I haven't screwed up won't count." That much was obvious. "I have to finish the semester as best as I can and apply for transfers."

I could already see the disagreement brewing, could tell that he wasn't ready to hold his peace in anyway and he'd probably never be ready. I needed to learn to be okay with that. "I'll be fine, when I'm back on my meds, I've lasted pretty long without them."

Maybe that wasn't the right thing to say so I tried again.

"I'm gonna take them." I'm a mess without them. "I need to."

For the first time, he didn't fight it, he just nodded. Taking a second, he bit his bottom lip, scratching his nails against his work pants as if he were nervous, before he stood. I was so drowsy, so ready to lay in my bed with no interruptions.Thank God, I can go to fucking sleep.

He was at the door before his eyes widened. My father gave a look of embarrassment, turning around to face me fully and he held his hands up in a small sign of defense. "Andy's here, told him to wait in the kitchen."

: : :

Andrew Baker was one of the most energetic people I knew. First was Ben Morris- wait, Landon Ross was first and then Ben Morris and then Andrew Baker. He was so full of life that standing next to him, I looked like the grim reaper had already come for me... not once, but twice. I was pale -unnaturally pale- and despite me sleeping all day for the past week or so, the views under my eyes were prominent.

The personified opposition to all of the aforementioned people was Caspar Wilkinson all broody and blue eyed, brown hair hanging messily and an arm wrapped around my sister.

My lips were tugged into my mouth, a sweater that fit me perfectly a year ago hung off my cold frame and I moved slower, dragging my feet. My body was pleading to fall back into bed, sleep the rest of the day away but it was six p.m. on a Thursday.

And I hadn't seen my friends in a long time.

"Hey, man." Andy's voice was soft, softer than expected and I had a feeling that my family had clued him in. As soon as I heard it, I felt myself being wrapped up in a hug that lasted a bit too long. "Missed you."

He held me close and I could feel my throat closing up at the sentiment.

"I missed you too."

Andy let me go shortly after, offering that same friendly smile he always had. He was standing awkwardly a few feet away before I forced a chuckle, "You can sit down, y'know?"

He looked down at the couch, mouth dropping open only slightly before looking back at me. He promptly rolled brown eyes before sitting down next to Caspar as if he remembered where he was and I sat down on the armchair.

Seconds went by before he spoke again and he still had that same cautious smile, it was slow driving me insane.

"You talked to Ben?" He asked, not waiting for a response. "He's supposed to be home in a few weeks, training's almost over."

And that was new. Among everything I missed about my old life, Benji was very very close to the top. I found myself smiling then, leaning back in the chair to hopefully ease some tension. "Good."

"How have you been?"

"Um," that was the question that I was dreading. Caspar's eyes had flickered over to me as well, full attention on me and with that, Jade looked down to avoid my gaze. I wondered how much they knew, "uh, okay."

"Bullshit." That was Caspar, scoffing to himself before disconnecting eye contact. Caspar seemed emotionless and disinterested a lot of the time except for rare moments like that when he'd offer some commentary and it always proved beneficial.

He was like a selective mute but without the mute-ism and those rare times when he did speak up in a social setting or make really intense eye-contact, they always shocked me -even if just a little.

Andy followed close after, reaching forward to punch at my knee. "I know when you're lying."

Since they weren't going to let it go, I indulged, offered the smallest amount of leeway. "I've been better." I shrugged then and Andy stood, assuming the impulsive identity of the missing link in our group and spreading his buff arms wide.

He stood like that for close to a minute, puffing his chest out and when I resorted to giving him a weird look, he sighed heavily.

"Come here."

Furrowing my brows, I looked over at Caspar who was watching the interaction with amusement on his normally blank face. "No."

"Julian."

"What?"

He rolled his eyes again then, "Get up."

His hand was on my wrist then, yanking me out of my seat. I lagged, trying to make myself as stiff as possible, as rooted to the chair. A laugh spilled from my lips as he let out a long grunt... like he was lifting a car by himself. "Andy, this really isn't-"

"Shut up." He'd whined once I stood and I briefly questioned just how much Ben had rubbed off on him. Andy was tugging me into another hug before I could protest some more, his body pressed firmly against mine and I laughed when the palm of his hand curved around my head and pulled it down to meet his chest.

He was holding me so tight, tensing so he could box me in. "Feel the friendship, bro, just feel the bromance."

It almost felt like I was suffocating, yanking my body away from his grasp and failing every time at the tight grip. When I was down, my friends would act like assholes to cheer me up and every time it worked.

And I was laughing, trying to wrestle away from the boy, his arms locking around my neck almost effortlessly and I was clutching his waist as he wrapped me in a headlock in the middle of my living room. Andy was turning, trying to get out of my grip to pull me to the floor and I found an opening to pull myself out of his lock.

It stayed like that for a few minutes, goofing around. Jade was cheering while simultaneously reminding me of the coffee table and Caspar was calling us idiots, a laugh embedded in the words, from the comfort of my couch.

Growing tired quickly, I pushed at Andy's chest, my entire body now warm and trying to catch my breath. I was laughing still, laughing more than I had in a year, "Alright!" Andy stumbled back, clutching his chest as if wounded and he was also laughing.

He fell back on the couch then, resting his weight on our broodier friend and he brushed a hand through his own hair then, still smiling.

I tried not to miss Ben too much, knowing that if he were here, he would've joined in.. would've found any way to have fun, Will talking in the background as if it were a cage match and we'd all grow bored before Ben.

Smiling softly once I'd calmed a bit, I made my way into the kitchen to grab a few bottles of water. I found myself laid back on the armchair again, nodding over at Andy and tossing him a bottle. "You look good."

He'd caught it effortlessly and I took the time to take in just how much being a college athlete was doing for him. He was buff now, his arms were twice the size of mine, which didn't really say much. His calves were strong, shown off in shorts, a new tattoo of a wolf's head sat there, stretched across the skin.

He smiled and I could see that he'd lost at least half of his previous body fat. Still, I could look at him and I didn't feel that sting of self-consciousness. Sure, I didn't feel much but this had to be an improvement.

Andy smirked then, bringing the bottle to his pursed lips. "Don't I always?"

"No."

Caspar snorted beside him and I could see Andy shove his elbow into the boy behind him, only to jerk forward a split second later, hand on his arm and a glare in his eyes.

It was on Caspar first, him only offering a smirk in return, and then Andy was glowering at me.

"And you were my first gay kiss, wow." He shook his head then, eyes downcast and I stifled another laugh. "Where's the loyalty?"

Caspar barked a laugh then and I swore this was the most he'd talked in a sitting. Jade sat beside him, eyes on his boyfriend and she turned a bit to give me a look that reminded me of our conversation days prior.

Caspar's eyes were on his phone, he was scrolling. "Desperation for peer validation does not look good on you."

"Can someone who's not me teach Cas how to use social media?" Jade's voice was so overly dramatic then, her snatching his phone out of his hand and Caspar stifled a laugh. "Are you on twitter?"

"So, what if I am?"

With a gaping mouth, Jade whipped her head over to meet his eyes. "What have you done with my boyfriend?" She was glaring then and he was chuckling moving his arm that was wrapped around her inward for a kiss.

I gagged.

"They do this... all the time." He shuddered. "You know how much I fucking missed you?"

"Shut up, Andy."

And Caspar took a hiatus from sucking my sister's face off to chirp in. "No, really. When he removes his head from his boyfriend's ass for longer than two seconds, you'll definitely hear him crying about missing you."

"Fuck off-"

"You eat his ass?"

Caspar snorted then and in his best Ben voice, he mimicked our friend. "As Benjamin Morris would say, like groceries." I couldn't help the laughter then, deep in my chest and twisting at my stomach.

Andy went to hit him again, standing as if it would give him some authority.

"Caspar!"

"Hey, Jules?" When the silence had consumed us, I watched my best friends hog my game counsel and Caspar turned to look at me.

"Yeah?"

"You know we're like brothers, right?" He smiled, it soft and quirked and absolutely nothing like Caspar.  "And you can talk to me... I'm here for you too, in case you didn't realize."

"I know."

: : :

"Julian," the woman in front of me smiled, it warm and pulling her eyes into slits. She spoke so softly yet articulate, she enunciated every word, her posture nearly perfect. Reaching over as we stood face to face, she shook my hand and she sat before I did, crossing her legs elegantly, "it's nice to see you again."

When she reached for her notepad, I took a chance to sit, the couch hard, almost underused even if I personally knew that wasn't the case. She marked something shortly, probably the session minutes and offered another quirk of the lips as she set her pad back down.

"You too, Dr. Thorpe."

When I'd finally gotten comfortable, she took a second to analyze me before starting. "So, what brings you here today?"

My life is constantly falling apart and the only way I can actually do absolutely anything about it is if I go to fucking therapy.

Instead of making her uncomfortable, I offered a tamer explanation. "I just got a re-diagnosed and um, you know I have to go to therapy for that."

"I hear you go to school in California, that must be exciting."

"Um," coughing, I tucked my hands between my thighs to keep them from shaking, "it's okay." But you already know that I wouldn't be here if I was fine. I decided that if I actually wanted something to change, I needed to be a bit more open.

My last session seemed like a big waste of time considering all I did was talk about my previous experience with this fucking illness. She'd encouraged me to talk more about the present. The first step is telling the truth, tell me where you are now, not where you've been. 

I brushed he off before but the guilt that I felt sitting in the car with my dad on the way here after dodging all the conversation starting Andria had tossed my way felt a bit selfish. I was selfish and the realization of that had be re-evaluating how much effort he was putting in.

I could at least do the same. "I -um- I went through a really low period recently."

She nodded, small smile on her face that eased me. I tried to relax, tried to answer honestly as she dove into more questions.

A/N:

For those of you who have read the previously posted chapter 21, please don't spoil it as it will be edited and posted next :( x

This chapter took so long to write wow but I think it fits better and makes the next chapter make sense. It's Mean Girls day though so make sure to rewatch the cult classic.

Updated: Thursday, Oct. 3rd

Favorite mean girls quote? And which character are you most like?