SET IT OFF WAS DAVID DOBRIK'S OUTRO SONG MY LIFE IS COMPLETE THEY GOT THE RECOGNITION THEY DESERVE MY FAVS ARE BEING NOTICED OMG I CANT IM FREAKING OUT OMG (also enjoy the chapter lol)

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Love, is not kind, not in the slightest. It will lie to you, hit you with emotions at your weakest point and convince that your decisions and actions are the right ones. Here's a hint, they're not.

At the time of me writing this, I have stared love in the face two times, and it hurts. The first time, I was left in a daze, the world spinning around me while it appeared I walked in slow motion, my thoughts dragging me down like anchors on a sailboat. Like the titanic, I had begun to sink.

The second time was much like the first, I hadn't expected it, but it hit me. Full force, like a car crash, it happens when you least expect it, when you feel safe, until you're not. I had been at a weak point, broken down and beaten by my own subconscious, vulnerable in the arms of love.

In an instant, I'm consumed, my thoughts overtaking me and next thing I know I'm caught up in love, the feeling of it aching in my chest, jump starting the long dormant feelings I had been feeling before. Love lets me go, making me fall just a bit into him, he catches me again, tangling himself in my thoughts, my feelings, my utmost desires. For a moment, I begin to feel us both falling, falling hard, together, and waiting for the gentle landing to carry us away from the harshness of reality.

It isn't until a few mornings later I am reminded of how cruel love truly is, rejection staring me down with such an intense emotion it's hard to believe that the concept of love is not an entire human of its own. Thoughts of evil and torment balanced by the way it eases up every once and a while, letting you breathe for a moment before it squeezes the air from your lungs, crippling you once again.

Anger, white hot anger explodes through my chest, steering my emotions and logic straight into a wall, the realization of being played stabs me in the leg, and I crumble to the floor, explosions of pain bursting through my chest as I heave for breath, for some sign of life. I'm hurt, I realize as these instances swirl around me like a tornado, I've been injured and I don't know what to do except lie in the dirt, gasping for breath as I wait for someone, something, anything to save me from this despicable fate I have been handed. In my moment of weakness, vulnerability, and pain, I realized just how much love hated me, how much it hated the way I breathed and lived my life, despite using everything in my ability to avoid crossing it's path.

Oh well, it wouldn't be the first time that all my efforts hadn't been good enough.

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The breath is knocked out of Evan as he reaches his locker, being shoved against it forcefully as an arm presses against his throat. It's now after school, and Evan was confused by the angry look that held him against the lockers.

"What the hell is your problem? Why are you messing with my friend?" Luke growls, confusing Evan once again as he looks into his angry eyes.

"I don't know what you're talking about-" he is released from the aggressive grip, but unable to escape the intense stare.

"I know that you and Jon kissed, and I don't want you messing with him, alright? I don't care about your intentions because I'm sure they're sick, just like everyone else who does what you do, absolutely sick." Luke looked deep into Evan's soft brown eyes, looking for hints of malice or ill intentions. "I know just how fake you are, Evan, and I know you really don't care one bit about Jonathan, so don't pretend with me."

Evan held his gaze, refusing to show fear or intimidation, because that wasn't going to work out for him, not in the long run. Fuckboys are fearless, fuckboys aren't fake, they're real, happy, joyful. Fuckboys are fine. "You really don't know anything about me, Luke. You just know what you want yourself to believe, but you don't really know, do you?" Evan challenged, pushing past Luke and beginning to walk calmly to the front of the school, where his friends would be waiting for him. "Don't think you're such a know-it-all, Luke, no one likes a know-it-all." He calls over his shoulder, still walking to where his friends were waiting.

"No one likes a fuckboy!" Luke retorts. Evan stops in his tracks upon hearing his comment, he resists the urge to turn around and punch him. He could be a better person, he could. His hands curled and unfurled into fists. Evan kept walking, not even letting himself turn around. The words still rang in his head.

No one likes a fuckboy.

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"Evan? What's wrong? You've been quiet all day." Evan's eyes dart up to meet Tyler's, snapping out of his thoughts about his day, and he merely shrugs, sipping on his drink leisurely. The cold soda burns his throat a little as the carbonation hits it.

"I'm fine." Is all he replies, returning to his previous position of staring at his black phone screen, no signs of life about it as he wishes for the one text he wanted, the one text he needed. However, his phone stayed in its silent state, no notifications to be seen. Evan still stared, cutting himself off from the conversation. "I'm fine." He whispers, his voice drowned out from his friend's conversation as they laughed and joked and conversed as they usually do.

He really won't text me. Is the only thought running through Evan's head as he gets lost in his own world, stuck on his blank, black phone screen and how it refused to light up. He had long since finished his drink, but it was almost comforting to keep acting like he hadn't, continuing to try to sip even though there was no drink left.

No one notices that Evan has left, brushing off how distant he was from them as he stayed in his crippling thoughts, worry and fear overtaking him as he realization came crashing down.

Kissing him was a mistake, he had known that, yet he wasn't thinking clearly and made the decision to kiss him. He's around Jonathan, which made him weak, he could never control his emotions around Jonathan, the genuine always slipped through, he was weak, and he had to pay for it now. Jonathan had kissed back because he was having an anxiety attack, he was distraught, it's like telling a baby fairy tales of all the good in the world because that's what they want to hear.

Jonathan kissed him because he knew that's what Evan wanted, he knew that he wanted to feel like someone out there wanted him, too. It must have felt like nothing to him, and he imagined that Evan felt the same way, or that he had at least the intentions of doing what he usually does to everyone else. It was a painful realization, to know that someone had been leading you on, even though Jonathan didn't really, but in a way he had. Luke knew that he did, thats why he confronted him in the halls earlier that day, because none of it was real.

The feeling of not being wanted is soul-crushing, so much so that Evan gingerly places his cup down onto the bright yellow table. A happy color to contradict his blue mood. "I'm tired." He announces as he leaves the table without a further explanation, leaving his friends to take care of the cup, his backpack swaying with his movements-he didn't remember pulling it on.

--

The sound of the door closing echoes throughout the empty house, and Evan lets out a sigh, turning on the living room lamp as he makes his way to the stairs. His footsteps ring loudly in his head, reminding him of how lonely he really is, how lonely he's always been.

Evan finds himself in the bathroom, scanning the various bottles in the cabinet until he lands on particular forgotten container, one he barely remembers that he had; his anti-depressants.

When his parents had gone through their hardships years ago, Evan's mother had grown worried at how much the boy was affected by their decisions. She took him to a doctor, a therapist, someone who could tell his mother what was wrong with her son. The conclusion was, he was depressed. So now, after all these years, she still renewed his prescription whenever she could, still wanting the best for her son, even though she was barely there. Evan didn't understand how she got the pills without him, she must have a friend or something. He didn't even understand why she still worried about things like that, they had never worked on him, but maybe she just hoped their presence could make him feel better, safer.

He grabs the bottle, shaking it a few times, his stomach churning at how full it was. Evan hardly ever took them, despite how much he needed them, he knew he needed them, even if his mom was unsure of it, he knew. His hands once again began to shake, Evan had to close his eyes so he didn't have a repeat of the sleepover. That dreaded sleepover, he never wanted to think about it ever again.

"Stop it." The thoughts kept hitting him, the feeling of Jonathan pressed up against him, their lips moving in-sync of one another, their eyes closed as they kissed in the dark. Feelings of joy washed away by regret kept crashing into him like the waves of the ocean, he shouldn't be feeling this way. "Stop it." His voice was louder, stronger. Voices and terrible thoughts still haunted him. "Stop it!" He screamed, his eyes opening as he struggled to open the bottle, falling to his knees as he shoved two pills in his mouth, swallowing them dry.

Evan numbly closes the bottle, relaxing against the cabinet of the restroom, breathing heavy as
he waited for the pills to make him feel better, to fix him. His eyes flutter shut, a few tears racing down his cheeks. "Please work." The strained voice leaves his lips as he waits for what the doctor had told him, the feeling of numbness, of being unable to decipher what he was feeling so much so that he could be happy. He just wanted to be happy.

----

The house was dark as the car pulled into the driveway, turning off as the driver put the vehicle in park, exiting with her purse and locking its doors as she walked up to the front door. She pulls out her house keys, opening the door as she notices how still and quiet everything is, her son must be asleep.

She closed the door, using the flashlight on her phone to navigate up the stairs and into her room, slipping off her shoes and placing her purse on the velvet armchair in the corner. She craves a small glass of wine, so she leaves to go to the stairs again. But first, she goes to her son's room, finding him sleeping peacefully in his bed, his phone left charging on his nightstand. She moved closer to give him a kiss on his forehead when she notices the bottle next to his phone. Anti-depressants. Her brows scrunch together in worry, fearing the worse for her son, who she tried her very best to make happy.

Evan's mother slips downstairs for a glass of wine.