Sorry this is so short, I had like no time to write this week. I promise the next one will be longer.

Good news peeps! My mom accepts me for being bi... even though she thinks that "this is just a phase" and that I'm "not that type of person."

Ugh. Parents.

Anyways-storytime!

Tw: Self-harm, swearing, homophobic slur, depressed thoughts and actions.

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Mr. Hamilton!"

Alex's head shot up so fast that his glasses went flying of his face. Jefferson was snickering across the room, and Mr. Washington was glowering at him. If looks could kill, Alex would be sitting up in Heaven helping Izzie with her homework while his mom made coffee.

"A moment of your time? Or is my lesson not interesting enough for you?" Mr. Washington was just a blurry outline, but Alex was pretty sure that he had his arms crossed.

"I'm sorry sir, I haven't been sleeping that well," Alex hurriedly apologized, picking up his glasses from the floor. John was frowning at him, obviously not happy that Alex had just admitted to not sleeping.

"Well, next time you go out partying, try to fall asleep in a different class." Alex opened his mouth to argue that, no, he had not been at a party, then thought better. He was already on his proffessor's bad side, he didn't want to make things worse. He picked his pencil up and started wrtiting down notes.

"Why didn't you tell me that you weren't sleeping?" John asked as they walked out of class, his eyebrows scrunched up worriedly.

Alex shrugged. "It's not going to make anything different. It's just a side affect of my new meds, I guess I haven't found the right balance of sleeping meds and antidepressants yet."

John opened his mouth, but before he could say anything he was shoved forward. "Hey!" He said, and turned around. Jefferson smirked, "Move your queer ass, homo."

Alex turned red.

"Don't talk to him. This is our fight, not his," he said, his voice quiet. Jefferson scoffed.

John tugged on Alex's shirt, "It's fine. I can handle it."

Alex flashed back to when he had said those words.

I can handle it.

"My fight. Not yours," he repeated, and turned back to Jefferson. "How's you boyfriend, Thomas?" He called, and Jefferson glared at him.

"Ew, he's not my boyfriend-" He started, and a kid that kind of looked liked Hercules shoved past him, his face flushing.

"James, wait!" Jefferson yelled, and he turned back to glare at Alex. "You're going to pay for this," he snarled, and sprinted after James.

Alex let out the breath he'd been holding and John sighed. "When are you going to start getting along with him?"

"Um, never," Alex snorted, "I hate the guy. And he hates me. It's the perfect balance."

John rolled his eyes and frowned.

X

"Alex, come on we're going to the cafeteria. You have to eat at some point."

Alex shook his head. "I'm okay, John, really. I'll meet up with you when I finish this paragraph," he muttered, eyes fixated on the computer screen. John sighed unhappily. He had thought that Alex had been getting better, but in the past few days...he wasn't so sure.

"John. Seriously, I'll catch up later. I promise." Alex raised his eyebrows, trying to look reassuring. His boyfriend frowned, but grabbed his jacket off of the hook. "If you want me to pick anything up for you, just call me."

"Will do," Alex said, and turned back to his computer. The essay he was writing was his view point on the law that Trump had repealed, a law making it easier for people with mental illness to buy weapons.

It was interesting, since he was now one of the people, one of the percents in the States that suffered with mental health issues.

His head hurt and his eyes burned, a sign that he was definitely exhausted. The perk of his antidepressants: he didn't sleep.

The problem with his antidepressants: he didn't sleep.

It seemed like he was always tired.

Alex closed his laptop; John had been right. He should have gone with them, he was hungry, but at the same time, he didn't want to eat. He didn't really want to gain any weight.

No. He couldn't think like that. He was getting better.

He stood up and grabbed his coat and keys, shutting the door behind him. Walking down the hallway, Alex noticed that is was pretty quiet for a Friday night. People must be at a party or something, somewhere where there was beer and music. Wherever the alcohol was, college kids seemed to follow.

The leaves crunched underneath his feet, breaking the silence of the darkness. It was pitch black out, save for the streetlights that cast small circles of light onto the sidewalk.

Alex was walking by the science building, half way to the dining hall, when a person seemed to melt out of the darkness.

"Well, well, well. I warned you, Hamilton." Jefferson smirked as he stepped out of the shadows. Alex rolled his eyes. "Can I just go eat my horrible cafeteria food in peace, please?"

"Yeah, no." Jefferson shoved Alex into the side of the science wing (why were all these buildings made of bricks?) and Alex's head smacked hard against the uneven surface. He winced.

Jefferson's hand flashed in the darkeness, and Alex's skull hit the brick again as he felt a blow to his face. Blood started to trickling down his lips, presumably from his nose.

Fingers closed around his throat, trapping him against the wall. The trickle became a river, and Alex looked up at Jefferson, staring at him straight on, silently challenging him to do something more.

Jefferson squeezed, constricting Alex's windpipe, enough to make it hard to breath, especially with the blood that was running down his face and into his mouth.

"No one will ever want to be with you. You're a poor little freak, and the only reason you're here is because the headmaster felt bad for you."

Alex gasped, struggling for air. "I must mean something to you, Jefferson, since you obviously think I'm a threat," he wheezed, gagging on the stream of blood that was coming from his nose. Jefferson snorted, "Don't think so highly of yourself, Hamilton. You're worth about as much as the trash I see in the ditch."

He let go of Alex, who dropped to the ground in a crumpled heap, coughing. Jefferson laughed. "Pathetic," he muttered, and walked away, a blurry outline in the streelight.

Black spots flashed in front of Alex's eyes, and he sat up, causing more blood to gush down the front of his face, staining his gray shirt. Shit. John was going to wonder what happened.

He hauled himself up, wincing at the pain in his head, and brought his hand to his nose. It came away covered in blood, and Alex swore. His nose felt like it was broken, his head hurt like hell, and he still needed to finish his essay.

He started trudging his way back to his dorm, trying to keep the bleeding to a minimum. He stripped off his coat and shirt, and went into the bathroom, rooting around for gauze.

Jefferson's words echoed around in Alex's head.

No one will ever want you. You're a poor little freak.

He was right, Alex thought sourly. He was a burden to his friends and to John. He was surprised that they hadn't already abandoned him somewhere.

Once the bleeding had stop, Alex was relieved to discover that his nose was not in fact broken. He didn't need to go back to the hospital, he had been there enough to last a lifetime.

He pulled on another sweatshirt, balling up his shirt and throwing it in the trash.

When are you going to learn to keep your mouth shut?

Now he wasn't even hungry anymore. The metallic taste that was left over in his mouth was making him nauseous.

Alex sat down at his desk, but he couldn't seem to write. His hands were shaking, his heart was in his throat.

Oh, my God. You are not having a panic attack just because you got one little nose bleed.

He got up and started to pace, digging his nails into his palms until there were half-moon crescents etched into his skin.

Not again, you aren't doing that again. You promised John.

But once again, Alex found himself rummaging in the bathroom cabinet, searching for the razor he had hidden, just in case.

One more time. And then you stop for good.

Three lines of blood welled up, scarlet against his pale skin.

I'm sorry, John.