Here's A Letter For You, But The Words Get Confused, And The Conversation Dies. Apologize For The Past, Talk Some Shit Take It Back. Are We Cursed To This Life

Never before had I envisioned myself going ever going back into this daily required attendance hellhole they lovingly nicknamed 'school', but never before had I envisioned the possibility of someone like Vic Fuentes finding my suicide notes. And the one addressed to him in particular. This was a situation new to me entirely, and I wasn't quite sure how to function right now.

My heart had been thumping in my chest, bouncing between my ribs and being pinged between the bony protectors. My chest physically began to hurt, my heart never settling and now it was getting to the point where it hurt to pump blood around this body. Not just mentally, but physically as well. And unfortunately, it wasn't just like my heart had an off switch.

I was in the process of making one for my whole body in fact, but it seems like Vic has entirely foiled that plan by now and in the worst possible way of course. Just because he's Vic Fuentes, and that's how the world works.

The world doesn't like off switches, escape routes and easy ways out of any demeanour. The world likes to watch as we struggle and scramble through our life chasing a meaningless ending just because we have to.

I prayed that he hadn't found it all, and the letters were laying in a crumpled heap in the corner of the bathroom; the ink smudged by toilet water and god knows what else, but most importantly unread by anyone - unread by Vic Fuentes. I could rewrite them, but I could never take those words out of someone's head. I just suspected that I wouldn't give be so lucky; luck and I had never really gotten on well.

I began to recite Vic's letter to myself, trying to estimate as to just how bad this situation could possibly be, but this tactic wasn't helping in any way whatsoever, because as I looked over the words that I had tucked away in the back of my head, I began to realise that this all could be much worse than I could have previously imagined.

Vic Fuentes, I love you.

It's true, despite the fact that I really don't want it to be. I'm not even sure how it came to be, it was never a cliché thing: love at first sight etc. It kind of crept up on me as I found myself growing more and more attached to you.

You're straight and you can get a girlfriend with a snap of your fingers and you don't want me and that's very understandable. I wouldn't want me - I don't want me. Nobody wants me. I'm alone and it's very clear that I don't belong on this earth.

I'm alone and I don't want to be alone, I don't want to be alive.

So as you read this I'm dead. I'm not sure how yet, but you can ask the hospital I'm sure would have found the pills or the gun shot or the noose around my neck. Or maybe it's you that found me, and no one else is here except the two of us, except I'm dead. Then I'm very sorry, but make sure the notes to get to who they're for. And Vic, please just forget me?

I want you to forget I ever existed - things are easier that way. I don't think you will find me though. I'm trying my best to prevent that. The hospital can deal with the mess - you shouldn't. I think maybe I should apologise, but I don't know if I can, because a lot of me is certain that this is the only thing I can do.

You might be angry with me... I don't know. If you are... can I just ask you to please forgive me, Vic?

It was unfinished, yet somehow it'd reached some kind of conclusion at the very least, even if it was quite possibly the worst conclusion I'd want Vic to read when my stupid fucking heart is still beating in this fucking chest of mine, and to be honest, I was in the right mind to put the barrel of a gun to my temples right this instant, grinning as the bullet penetrated my skull, flying straight through, cutting through bone, flesh, brain matter and whatever could even try to stand in its way.

But I was stupid and I didn't bring my gun. The goddamn thing lay in my underwear draw at home, hidden underneath some boxers I hadn't worn since ninth grade and yet was far too lazy to throw out entirely. Because laziness just seemed to be my speciality.

The whole world shattered as I came to the unfortunately solid realisation that none of my letters were anywhere in that bathroom. I'd checked everywhere and anywhere, but still there simply wasn't a sign of them.

In inhaled slowly; this wasn't an obvious sign that Vic had found them or even read them for that matter. They could have been absent mindedly put in the bin without a second thought by someone as unimportant as a cleaner or something. That would have been plausible and an explanation I'd like to settle for, but of course, I knew far too well that no one used this bathroom. Barely anyone even knew it was still functioning.

And most certainly, the cleaners never visited it on their rounds. If they ever even bothered to turn up that was.

Fuck.

I stumbled out of the bathroom, bolting down the corridor; he had my notes. He'd read them and there was nothing left for me now than to put everything aside, run home and grab my gun, take myself somewhere desolate and put that trigger to my head.

That was all I needed; all I wanted and all I could do in a rut like this. I was at a dead end; I'd walked to the end of a one way street and there was very little I could do to rectify my situation.

Dates, letters, and goodbyes were now nothing but matters of utter irrelevancy, because goddamn Vic fucking Fuentes. This was my fault though, and as much as I wanted to - I shouldn't really blame him. I hated him (or at least I liked to think so) but I couldn't pin the blame down on him. Not for this. This was all my own doing.

My mind was surprisingly calm considering the fact that I'd barely live for another twenty minutes now. I was just glad to be certain that there was always a way out and that my way out of the school itself were barely a metre away.

I was free.

"Kellin."

I was almost free.

"Kellin-" I ignored the voice, but the voice, his voice. It didn't ignore me. He never ignored me, and as much as I thought I'd be okay as soon as someone noticed I wasn't, it was only now that I knew just how wrong I was.

I struggled forward, letting out a gasp as he grabbed me against his chest, physically pushing me into his office, because that's the first time that Vic's ever really hurt me. I didn't like it all, and in that moment I knew that he'd read them, and he'd read his in particular. And he was angry, or at least that was there at face value, leaving me to hazard a guess otherwise.

He locked the door behind us, and I busied my head with irrelevant yet distracting thoughts involving matters as to why he was at school at this time of night or why he couldn't hang up a single award without it being obnoxiously wonky, or why his laptop was at such an odd angle, or why the trash bin was full of pieces of paper, all scrunched up into perfectly imperfect little paper balls.

Vic slammed the light switch on, the main light doing a far better job of illuminating the room better than the fading and most definitely overheating desk lamp.

I squinted, letting out a small mew like wince as the light penetrated my pupils, which had literally just spent the last twenty minutes or so adjusting perfectly to the state of half-darkness that the school seemed to hang in, and of course, now that was all perfectly ruined, by none other than everyone's favourite - Vic Fuentes.

"Kellin!" His words were far more panicked this time, and suddenly I came to realise why, as I came to realise I hadn't put long sleeves on, and that both my arms were exposed entirely to Vic Fuentes; both scars creating an unevenness in skin between the parallel little ridges, and the fresh cuts from earlier; still trickling blood down my skin.

I didn't say anything, I couldn't say anything; I just looked at him. My eyes giving him a look with silent words that screamed 'please just let me die'. He didn't notice though. He ignored. Because that's what they all do... well in the end anyway. People can only pretend for so long

"Fuck." He muttered to himself, as he finally managed to take his eyes off the mess that was my arms; all pretty and red. Red was beautiful in the most destructive manner, which made me lust with inhumane amounts of captivation towards the red substance that trickled poured and governed my pathetic, meaningless little existence.

Rummaging around in a draw near the desk, his face set in a stony expression that was purposefully impossible for me to decipher, almost as if this had made me invalid to emotion. He eventually pulled out a roll of bandage, walking over to where I stood, still clutching my arm as if it would fall off and judging by the terrified look in his eyes, I guess he thought it just might do.

Taking a deep sigh, he grabbed the arm that was bleeding right now, creating little river rivers sourced from sliced open arteries downstream. He couldn't stop looking to the point it was making me uncomfortable.

He looked sporadically; all at once and for far too long and then he wouldn't look at all, avoiding my arm as if weren't there. It made me the most uncomfortable I'd been. I guess that was just a Fuentes speciality though.

"Just fuck..." I sighed, as he examined my red Niagara Falls once more, before stretching out the bandage, wrapping it securely around my arm a few times over. He applied pressure until he was satisfied that his make shift first aid was adequate enough, before cutting the bandage and tying it securely around my arm.

"That should be okay." He let out a raspy sigh, the words almost coming out accidentally with the harsh exhalation of breath. "Well... as okay as that can be... I guess- fuck, Kellin." He couldn't get his brain even fathom emphasising with mine, and for the most part I was glad.

I didn't know what to say. I didn't apologise because I wasn't sorry and now that he'd read every fucking thought lurking inside my head there was nothing I could say to even try and fathom fixing this in any way.

"I know why you're here Kellin." He said after a few painful seconds of silence, only to have them replaced by six words that were most definitely much more painful. Because he knew and there was no pretending anymore. This was all real; this was all true. And there was nothing I could do.

I nodded, my vocal chords snapping off with my heartstrings as I simply couldn't find any instructions on how to verbalise the slightest grunt in the brain of mine that had currently been pushed into full blown panic mode.

He let out yet another sigh, and pulling what I instantly recognised to be my letters out of his pocket. Well, fuck. There was no denying the fact that his eyes had absorbed those unspoken words now. Words that he should never have known and words that had come to be by my own fault and my own fault alone.

He placed my letters onto the desk between us, and I eyed them warily, almost willing them to disappear from existence entirely and quite possibly taking me with them, but things didn't work like that.

I closed my eyes and opened them three times before I found myself accepting that I couldn't just disappear even if I wished myself to hard enough. To disappear would be wonderful, especially in situations like this, especially forever.

"I read them..." He mumbled out, letting the words free like an animal clawing at the lock on its cage. There was no stopping them; they needed to be out there and they would be.

"Oh." I let out my first response; the words sloping downhill in pitch as they hitched a ride with the sigh that boarded the train to nothingness.

"Kellin... please don't kill yourself-" He protested, his words coming out alongside that stupid pleading look in his eyes that was so convincing I was left with no other choice than to despise the thing.

"Don't tell me what to fucking do - you have no clue what it's like." He just liked to think he did, because he was far too self-righteous and it painted him in the most ridiculous yet enticing of lights. I hated him; I hated everyone; I hated everything; I hated myself. And above all, I hated the fact that I was still alive.

"You're right - I don't. And I'm glad that I don't, but I'm sad that you do. You shouldn't have these thoughts, Kellin. I don't want you to." That was funny, cute even - almost. Vic Fuentes and his infinite supply of arrogance that allows him to somehow believe that the whole world is in his power.

I just want to watch him crash down; as sadistic as it sounds, the realisation and the reality would be nothing short of priceless.

"I don't want to either, but it's not my decision." I reminded him that he didn't know everything, despite what he's convinced he believes.

"It's your head." Yes thank you and that's your mouth yet you seem unable to stop the idiocy from pouring out of it.

"Things don't quite work like that, do they?" I continued, eyeing him up and down as if I wasn't the one who been ungratefully exposed here. Unfortunately though, I couldn't pretend forever and my head was too full of sporadic shockwaves of panic and fractured shards of thought

"Yeah. I guess... like falling in love." Vic Fuentes, I love you.

Yeah, like falling in love.

"What-" Oh shit. He'd touched upon the matter I'd been doing my best and a very poor job of erasing from my memory entirely. But now it was back at one hundred percent; fully real again and brought up by the person I'd wanted the least to bring it up.

"You can't control who you fall in love with." He continued, and I held my breath, bracing myself for the worst part of all; the part where my heart splits right in two.

"Yeah, I guess." I didn't want to even breathe, let alone respond but it was apparent that the real world didn't accommodate for my petty drama queen flashes regarding Vic Fuentes.

"It's like that - you can't control what you think, isn't it- like even if you don't want to fall in love with this person, this guy, and you do all you can to try and prevent it. You even do the most stupid of things just in the hope that somehow it'll fix this thing - this love, but it just doesn't go away. It's permanent - it's always there. And as you start to realise that, everything just gets worse because there's nothing you do about it, or do to get rid of it, and soon enough you're just a mess of insanity-"

"Don't call me insane." He wouldn't be doing anything more than telling the truth but it hurt me nonetheless. I wanted to pretend I was okay, down to the very last minute... just because I was pathetic like that.

"I wasn't-" He protested, his words coming out amidst a spiral of lies.

"A mess of insanity. Those were the words that you used just seconds ago." He let out a chuckle; laughing at me. The hypocrite.

"Kellin, I wasn't talking about you." Yet more lies and more bullshit from a mouth made for nothing other than to kiss whores.

"What... a metaphor-"

"I was talking about me."

Oh.

He wasn't- but he was. And that could only mean- no it couldn't. This was Vic Fuentes. And I swear my head was about to drop right off.

"So- this g-guy..." I stammered out, physically scared as to what could possibly come next.

"Yeah, about the guy, then I was talking about you." Oh... shit... god... Fuck-

"Vic-" I didn't know what I could even say in a situation like this and I was actually kind of glad to find that Vic had interrupted my hopeless words.

"Shut up and let me kiss you."

I was speechless, but the matter of silence was soon fixed as my lips found themselves otherwise preoccupied as Vic's lips pressed against mine, pushing me back against the wall of his office. I almost rolled my eyes at the unlikely circumstances, but they were closed and I was all too focused on just how sweet he tasted.

As he pulled away, I found myself glancing down at the bandage on my arm, and then the notes on his desk, and eventually visualising the gun in my underwear drawer. Because he just couldn't fix things like that, all at once.

"There's a gun in my underwear drawer." I said out of nowhere and Vic just looked at me.

"Kellin-"

"I don't think I want it there anymore." He smiled at me - a sad smile, but a proud smile nonetheless. "I just don't think I can bring myself to get rid of it - it's like my lifeline. In case anything goes wrong, I have it to turn to. Like no matter how shitty things get, I'll always have it..."

"Kellin, let me be your life line."

"I'll try."

"Promise me?"

"Promise."

It was a promise, but a promise made with fingers hidden away and fingers crossed over. Fingers that lied.

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