"I like that we had a day to ourselves, Jan." I had whispered, leaning over to rest my head on his shoulder. The day after I'd made up with Oliver, Jan had gone home and spent the day with Sidney as well so the day after that, we scheduled to bond. So we made cookies and laid on the sofa all day due to the fact that it had snowed and outside was colder than Jack Frost's balls. We were re-watching Glee for the millionth time and just talking.

It felt nice. It felt nice not to have to worry about him, him visibly getting better through the hours of therapy -free of charge- on Mondays and Thursdays and we were finally able to communicate more. Our friendship had entered a new territory, one that I was proud to be in.

Jan leaned his head on mine, hair freshly dyed lilac courtesy to me that day as I finished laughing at Sam, trouty mouth, Evans on the TV screen, "Me too."

I grinned, picking up another cookie and shoving it in my mouth. He seemed better after our kickback day and that made me happy, "Feeling any better?"

I heard my best friend sigh, pressing his lips gently to my hair before leaning his head back, "Yeah, your dad's been helping me out a lot."

And he was, you could tell, Jan's smiles were less fake and he'd been gaining some color back in his skin. He clearly wasn't anywhere close to recovery, still drowsy 27/4 and occasionally sad but it was better. He hadn't broken down that day though, his eyes weren't fogged over and I wasn't completely happy with his state but I felt better, we all felt better.

"Anything better with the 'rents?"

Since he'd come back, January had mentioned little about his parents, always shrugging the subject off and staying over more often than going home. Of course he never told us what was wrong, we could sense it, "My mom still babies the hell out of me and Dad's scared to be in the same room with me. They're walking on eggshells."

Drawing a circle on his long-sleeved arm, I grimaced, "I'm sorry."

"It's okay, though. I get the house to myself most of the time..." He tried to laugh it off, sitting up and turning towards me in an attempt to brighten the mood, "And you know those little red velvet cakes with the cream cheese filling?"

Deciding to let him change the subject, I nodded, remembering his favorite cupcakes, "Those ones we had at your sixteen?"

January grinned then, the smile barely reaching his eyes, he looked as if he were trying to make himself happy. I held back a comment as he blinked slowly, "Yeah, Mom buys one for me whenever I want them."

And January was always eating, it was a wonder how he was still fit.

Biting his lip, he looked down at his lap, "Plus, I'm playing basketball with Jackson tomorrow."

And suddenly his smile seemed less fake.

⌄⌃⌄⌃⌄⌃⌄

I'd braved the snow that day when Jan had left, assuring that he was fine and how much he loved me. After deciding I didn't want to be alone, I'd made my way to my closet, pulling out a gray hoodie... I wasn't sure when I got it but it smelled a lot like Oliver and was too long on my arms.

I'd thrown a jacket over it, pocketing my phone in my slightly-thick black jeans and slid on my Tims before bracing myself for the walk.

And when I'd gotten to Oliver's front porch, I was more than happy about the fact that he'd swung the door open after only a ring of the doorbell. That was when I noticed the huge purple tint to his cheek, my eyes going wide. I tried my best not to overreact, "You're bruised."

"Hello to you too."

I wasn't a fan of his sarcasm nor was I a fan of freezing my ass off so, placing my hands on his chest, I pushed us both back into his house before shutting the door. And I felt him take my jacket as if we were in the 50s before I spoke again, "You're bruised Oliver, I don't need a damn hello; I need an explanation."

He hadn't made eye-contact with me, opening a closet and placing my coat in there, "Eli got into another fight."

Another fight.

My eyes were on his back, inky dark hair standing out tremendously against the back of his pale neck. I didn't want to hear about another fight, had he learned nothing? "Oliver-"

"I didn't hurt anyone." He quickly cut me off, finally shutting the closet and turning around to face me. I'd seen him bite at the place his piercing was previously and I mustered up a look of confusion.

"What?"

I'd only been in his house once and it was just how I'd remembered it: warm and hospitable. Despite Oliver being a seemingly dark cloud, his livings room was bright. The couches were white with fall colored throw pillows and the wood furniture were all dark. The fireplace was going and candles were lit, the whole space smelling like freshly baked cookies.

And my eyes travelled over to Oliver in his ripped black Eminem muscle-shirt and black joggers, I thought about how much he didn't look as if he fit. Sure, if you got to know Oliver you'd see that he was amazing but right there, he seemed dark and cold and mysterious. I frowned, "Well, I punched the guy a few times but I stopped myself before I could black out. Elliot was so scared, I just couldn't seriously fight in front of him again."

As I took time to digest this information, he'd made his way past me and into his modern kitchen, me following after, "Anyways, are you hungry?"

I saw him open the metallic fridge, eyes assessing what was inside before he pulled out a bag.

"What's this?"

He shrugged, setting it on the island and resting his elbows on. He'd looked down at it before a small smile spread across his face, "I uh, I went to the grocery store with my mom and I don't know... We just talked. It was weird, we haven't had an actual conversation since I came back, kinda sad. But she was telling me about her depression..." And when he'd seen the wide-eyed look on my face, he continued, "I never told you about that, did I?"

I shook my head.

He laughed lightly, biting his bottom lip and what a sight he was at that moment. Something inside me jumped at the way his teeth nipped at his lip briefly before letting go and his tongue swiped over it as if to soothe the sting. "Well, I can see where you're coming from when you said you don't know me enough."

There was that sincere grin on his face. The one that shone in his eyes and made them look more green than gray, it lit up his face and spread warmth throughout my body, "she smiled at me for the first time in a while."

"That's really nice, Oliver." I wanted to kiss him but I didn't know where we stood so I settled for resting my hand on his bandaged one. I tried to keep my mind off why he had the bandage and how it was mostly my fault.

"Yeah. She uh," he cleared his throat, slipping his hand away before interlocking his other with mine, "She told me to pick out anything I wanted and I couldn't keep my eyes off of these." Nudging them towards me, I was confused until I'd opened the bag. My eyes scanned over the bags, a smile on my face as I'd recognized the contents.

"They reminded me of you."

⌄⌃⌄⌃⌄⌃⌄

We were laying in his bed later that day, American Horror Story on his laptop and a bag of gummy worms beside us. We'd established that out of the things he's gotten from the grocery that apples just weren't the thing to eat while laying on his bed. I'd placed them in his fridge and we went with the junk food that also laid in the bag. There was a slight smile on his face as I laid out in his chest, his heartbeat relaxing me and my actions lazy.

I'd had a gummy worm in my mouth, the gore flashing the screen and Oliver's hand was playing with his sleeve. "How's Jan doing?"

"Better..." I trailed off, it felt weird to tell someone about something so personal about my best friend. But then I realized that he had a right to care about Jan to at least know that he wasn't as bad as before. He didn't have to know about the cutting or the intensity of Jan's situation and I didn't have to tell him, "I just wish he wouldn't hide stuff from me, you know? He was alone for so long."

The boy underneath me was hesitant and slightly quiet for a few seconds to where the only thing I could hear was his breathing. And then I felt his hand in my hair, not combing through but lightly massaging my scalp. He took a breath, "It's not as easy as you think... To let someone in is hard especially when it's gotten that deep. You start feeling alone, the cutting becomes second nature when you're so numb to everything."

He knew.

He'd have to have known for a while too... They were barely friends yet he knew about something so important. I buried my sadness, "How'd you know he...?"

Oliver shrugged, the action making me sit up slightly to look at him as he relayed his reasoning, "He wasn't always the best at hiding it it maybe I'm just used to the signs." Oliver's eyes were cloudy, small bitter smile on his face and he looked at me and in that moment, it was like I could feel every emotion in his eyes. I could feel how sad he was and I could hear it in his voice as I clasped his hands in mine. I wished I could take that sadness away.

There was a deep history whether it be represented in his eyes or his actions but there was something. He'd seen something or felt something that gave him insight and that was the sad part about it. He knew too much to not have been personally affected.

That was proven clear when he lifted his right sleeve, my breathing stopping as I prayed that it wasn't what I thought it was.

I felt my heart breaking as I took his arm into my hand and grazed my fingers over the raised skin.

"I started cutting myself at thirteen."

Shaking my head, I tried my best to relax knowing that these were old marks, none of them were new and I attempted to keep that in my memory. Still, I hadn't wanted him to tell me anything he didn't want to, "You don't have to... That's too personal-"

"I want to tell you." He cut me off, my heart stopping momentarily and I could tell he was serious. He wasn't just saying this in the heat of the moment and it seemed as if he had planned this a while before. He seemed to have thought it over and that was what pushed me into listening.

"Oh."

He sighed and my hand gripped his and he pulled his sleeve down slowly but for some reason, although it was painful to look at, I stopped him. And then he began, tears in his eyes as he bit his lip but just as his personality and his strength had suggested, his voice didn't waver and he didn't let his tears fall. I admired the way he looked at that moment, raw but not defeated or knocked down, "I started cutting myself at thirteen, tried to burn myself a few times but it never worked. The therapy wasn't working, nothing was working and the blackouts were getting more frequent. And when I turned fifteen, it got worse. I started to hit things, hit Eli a couple times when he tried to stop me..." he squeezed my fingers as if to make sure I was still there when he pulled his eyes up from his lap, "I started to go insane and that was when my therapist suggested football. And being on the field, I felt so free."

I let my eyes wander over to his jersey, it was seemingly thrown onto the chair in the corner of his room instead of strung up on the wall as it was the last time I'd been there. In the place it was before was a hole and I couldn't help but blame myself.

"When did you do that?"

I knew it was because of me, I just knew with the way his eyes followed my gaze before he squeezed my hand again. He chuckled lightly, "when you closed the door in my face, I kind of freaked out. Trashed the room and- yeah... My mom had to stop me this time because Eli hates me."

He shrugged and I could tell he didn't really want to talk about it so I changed the subject. "Number 11..." "Does that have any significance?"

"11 ways I thought about ending my life."

My breath hitched and I felt a lump in my throat, I couldn't breathe. I didn't expect it, I really didn't expect it so it caught me off guard.

Just break my heart, why don't you? "Oliver..."

He sighed, dragging his bandaged hand through his hair and I nearly swooned. Oliver was so fucking hot and those lips... God, those lips. Chill out, Em. He's telling you about himself and you're being a little hoe. I attempted to focus more on his words, his hand squeezing mine and I could see the relief. It was as if he were happier about the situation, "Im not as depressed as I was. I mean, it's still there but it only seems to come back when I'm alone."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be," his eyes were on mine, "you just, you need to realize that it's not easy. It's difficult and you feel exhausted all the time and dying becomes more of a wish than a fear."

That struck me. Jan wanted to die; Oliver wanted to die. "Do you still think of..?"

"Sometimes."

I must've shown my sadness because he pulled me into his arms, my head on his chest and his hand in my hair. I felt safer and relaxed and just hearing his heart reassured me. He was alive, he hadn't hurt himself and that was the most important thing to me at that moment, "Y-you need to know how important you are to me and I sound really selfish but I need you to stay with me as long as you can."

Maybe I was too important to him.

He sighed, he seemed to be sighing a lot that day and I could tell he were tired, "You know, I promised Eli that I wouldn't hit him again when I came back... I promised that I wouldn't turn out like all of our 'step-dads gone wrong' and I fulfilled my promise up until that fight." His breath became shaky and I struggled o calm him down, my hand rubbing gently on his arm and drawing small patterns. His last step-dad, -Seth, I believe- he didn't want to turn out like him and he cared for his brother.

That was the kind of person Oliver was, he cared for people and the ones he cared about were worth more to him than himself, "I hurt him, Em, I don't want to hurt him again."

⌄⌃⌄⌃⌄⌃⌄

It was late that evening after Oliver had walked me home and informed me about things he loved such as the sky in the middle of the night and the way I said his name. He'd been taking the 'get to know me' thing really seriously and every chance he had, he'd blurt out things that made me like him even more. It felt like we understood each other on a deeper level and I found myself excited to hear more.

It was almost midnight when he'd called, my head somewhere between sleep and tumblr and I of course answered. What I hadn't expected was the way he instantly started a conversation as if introductions were something to get past quickly, "I love kids."

I couldn't help but chuckle at that, licking my lips and readjusting myself on my bed. My head was uncomfortable in certain positions due to my washing it earlier that night and cornrowing it back to preserve some moisture.

If Oliver had seen me then, I'd freak out. I heard him take a breath before he told me more. It kind of felt like the beginning of a relationship rather than the middle of a friendship, "I uh I have this weird hatred for the color yellow and my lip piercing wasn't planned at all. I get drunk sometimes and I wake up with another tattoo and I tend to remember everything about you but nothing about myself and that really sucks..."

And that made me smile. Pushing back a yawn, I replied, "Why are you telling me this?"

"I have a lot of respect for women that's why I constantly stand up for Jacie even though she broke my heart. I hate racists and homophobes, I tend to go to pride every year... I can't stand my eye color, I love seeing you in my clothes, and I love your hair when it's curly although you always straighten it which is cool too."

It was as if he wasn't hearing me and I subconsciously twirled the end of one of my braids, my lip sucked into my mouth. Maybe I'd put off straightening for a while.

"Oliver-"

He sighed and I heard shuffling. I imagined him running a hand through his hair when his sigh turned into a yawn, "I hated myself for a little bit... Still do but I don't know, you help me out."

"I'm scared of spiders and I really wanna play football again..." I'd really like to see that, "I also really wanna kiss you right now."

Walk over here and do it then. "I uh-"

"I love you."

And that brought it back. It felt too real and I felt guilty for not reciprocating his feelings, "Stop saying that."

"Emerson-"

"No." I felt cornered as if he were being vulnerable and I was just breaking him but I stood my ground. I wasn't in love with Oliver yet and I couldn't lie and tell him I was just because I felt bad, "I can't say it back right now, Oliver, you know that."

"I'm not asking you to."

Still, I felt the need to justify, "I don't love you yet. I don't -God- I don't know."

"That's okay." He was reassuring even if I could hear the sadness in his voice because that's who he was. He did things for others and never placed the blame on them. He respected my choice even if he hated it and he cared about me. "I'm okay with that."

I sighed, "Why are you so cool with this?"

"Because I love you, I really fucking love you and I'll wait for you to love me back because you're worth it." I could hear the conviction as if he were telling himself more than he was telling me and he took control of the situation instead of letting me, "Listen, I'm gonna get help and you have to stick with me and I'll try as hard as I can to make you fall in love with me, Emerson."

"You're something else, Oliver Remmer."

Maybe I liked being important to him, "Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

"Definitely a good thing."