You had been friends with Benny and Ethan since you three were wearing diapers, and you had no problem when the dorky Rory entered your friendgroup, welcoming him with open arms. He was a geek, —the kind of geek other geeks would call geek—, a dofus and completely unable to pick on social cues. In summary, the blonde Rory Keaner was nothing more than a dorky socially awkard teenage boy, the average teen boy at any highschool in reality. Always wearing his nerdy shirts with that stripped blue-jacket on top paired with his baggy jeans and the most new black shoes of a famous brand to come out.

He was completely obvlivious to practically any kind of negative reaction towards him, he really never did get when a person hated or dispised him, he didn't notice the dirty looks and side-eyes, he was just.. well, Rory, and completely happy with it. Oh, how you wished you could be like that, unbothered to all the emotional baggage weighing you down and more down day by day.

Today Rory was staying at your house for a sleepover, you gave him the go ahead to make himself comfortable in your room while you went to look for some games to play, only to come back to Rory shakyly holding a box full of your bloodied razors. His hands were shaking like crazy, his eyes wide as he stared at the blood-stained sharp edges of the steel pieces, his mind reeling trying to process to try and comprehend comprehend. Now he understood why you were always wearing long sleeves —even in summer—, it wasn't because you were a cold person but because you were hiding the cuts from all of your friends. Now he understood why his vampire instincts kicked in, why you smelt so much like fresh blood, all those times you went into the bathroom.

He was holding the box full of bloodied razors, razors used for self harm, used to slice your precious skin open, with his shaky hands. He was trembling violently —looking completely traumatized— as he seemed to be choking on air from sheer anguish. Too many questions running through his head.