A/N: Hey guys, I know this is an early update, but since I'm on spring break I decided I should get some writing done! Also, here's a small warning! There are many mature themes in this chapter, such as attempts of suicide. Don't read this if you have any triggers of suicidal themes, this is very serious! And if you do ever feel like this, please call the suicide hotline, or tell a medical professional. (1-800-273-8255)

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Yuki's POV

I sigh, looking at my scrawny body in the mirror. I wish I was actually hungry for once. That this endless cycle of starvation would finally end. I poke at my small disgustingly pale protruding stomach before scrunching my nose and pulling my oversized sweatshirt back on. It was his fault I was like this. That I thought like this, acted like this. Quietly I slide down the wall facing the mirror, before scrunching up in a ball and hiding my face. I run my fingers over my right wrist, feeling the scabs and ridges of scars as I sob. I hate myself. I really do. I take a deep breathe in knowing that I had to be the one to pick myself up. That I had to go against my deepest longing to just end it all, and stand up. But I can't. Silently I rub my eyes and get up. As I wash my face I can't help but think of how disgusting I looked. How helpless and pathetic. I quietly open the mirror-cabinet, my fingers wrapping around a small handle to a recently cleaned kitchen knife.

A quiet pinging erupts from my phone. And the knife clatters to the ground. Looking back now, I'd probably be dead if I had remembered to silence my phone. I glare at the phone screen, angry that someone had interrupted my decision, only to softly smile to realize my best friend had saved me. Will's smiling idiotic face appeared on the caller ID, reminding me of when we took that picture. When we were at the faire last year, hitting on random girls, eating too much cotton candy, getting sick and passing out in the car, waking up in the car two hours later only to realize that we left the car running. I shake my head, clearing my throat, as well as my thoughts, and answer the phone. Clutching onto it closely as if my life depended on it. Maybe it did.

"Yuki? Hey! Everything alright? It took awhile for you to pick up. You worried me there." He says, sounding a bit worried for my safety. His worry made me smile. I was glad someone cared.

"Yeah, I'm fine." I respond, trying to keep my voice steady. Unfortunately he could already tell something was wrong. We had been best friends for so long, that he could read that sort of thing.

"No you're not. I'm coming over. So if you're naked, get dressed now, and stop lying to me. You're feelings actually matter to me, okay?" I try to respond to him, but he just hangs up, leaving me alone to contemplate what to do next. I rushingly stash the knife under some towels, and brush my hair to make me seem for alive. Clumps of powder-blue hair form knots, stronger than my poor brush could bear. I sighingly look at the scissors in the mirror-cabinet, which was still wide open. Before I could reach for them, I could hear the loud noise of the garage opening. There was no way he got here THAT fast. It had only been like four minutes!

"Okay, so I think I ran like four red lights, and I had to throw a fox out of the road to keep from running over it, but I'm here." Will pants, as he swings open the door that connects the garage to the living room. He makes his way over to the bathroom door, staring down at me. Even though I was considered very tall, he still towered over me. Quietly he leans in and hugs me, not in a romantic way, but in the way that just screamed love and compassion. I don't resist, but I don't hug back in fear that my wrist might be revealed. Which was a ridiculous fear, considering he already found out about it, and there were no recent cuts. Finally he lets go, and I softly kiss his cheek in thanks, before handing him the scissors.

"Your stepmom is a hair stylist, right? Do you think you could... help cut my hair?" I ask, shyly looking down at my pale feet against the dark marble bathroom floor, thankful that he didn't ask anything about my current mental state. He doesn't say anything, he just moves me towards the mirror, positioning my head straight forward. He takes the scissors from my hands before placing them on the counter, much to my disappointment.

"Your hair is already above shoulder length, Yuki. And you'll regret this decision later, I know it. So, how about I just brush out your hair and tell you about the amusing day I had at work?" He asks, placing his chin on the top of my head, staring at our reflection in the mirror. His eyes were filled with compassion and appreciation, his lips placed in a thin smile. How could I say no to that? I give him a small smile back, and hand him the small brush.

"I'd really like that. Can you do that funny accent you do when you tell one of your stories?" I ask softly, smiling to myself at his ridiculous attempt at a country accent. At least he tries.

"Oh gosh Yuki, you really know how to ask the most of someone. But, alright I'll do it for you." He clears his throat, brushing through a small section of my hair before starting.

"So yuh see dahlin, there was this crazeh gal, who was so purty, but she was blahnd. And she..."