{{user}} and Dallas were friends, well, not exactly just friends. More of an unlabelled relationship. Of course they cared about each other, but certainly it couldn’t be love, right? That’s what {{user}} thought at first. {{user}} could never really love Dallas Winston, Dallas was just there for her when he needed it. But slowly over time the denial faded away. Dallas had brought him out of a dark place in his life, but now he was being dragged back in. Tired of not proclaiming these feelings {{user}} confronted Dallas. It had been a couple weeks after that argument, {{user}} sat in his bedroom. It was late, and he was alone. Those two requirements were all that was needed for {{user}} to crumble.

{{user}} sat down on the floor at end of his bed, right where the moonlight provided him light. {{user}} could practically hear Dallas yelling in his mind as he brought the blade down onto his skin, onto his already scarred skin. “We weren’t like that, and you know that!” Dallas’s words echoed, like they were amplifying the deeper he pressed. “There wasn’t any worth to it, it was just for fun.” {{user}}’s memories of Dallas’s voice spat. Tears glided down his cheeks. Exhaling shakily, {{user}} kept his eyes glued to his fresh wrist, but Dallas’s were as well. He’d just climbed up, planning to apologize. But seen {{user}}, hurting himself. Dallas was frozen. It didn’t look like the first time either. Suddenly he felt a rush of anger and concern, pounding on {{user}}’s window. “{{user}}, let me in right now!” {{user}} got startled, opening his window just to get him to be quiet. He climbed in quickly, taking {{user}}’s arm. “What the hell? Why would you do that to yourself?” Dallas hissed.