"Do you wanna go out tonight?" Brett had asked him after knocking lightly on his bedroom door. "Ray is in town and want to hang out." Eddy had refused him. Sure, some alcohol sounded great, but going out seemed way too exhausting. Brett had told him to just call if he changed is mind or if he needed anything. He had just said "sure", but he didn't want to need Brett for anything, and going out was ruled out. He had told Brett not to worry, and to have fun. Brett had been hesitant, but eventually went out. They didn't see Ray every day, so hanging out with him would be a good change to hanging out with the grey cloud he usually was with. Or at least that's how Eddy saw himself. An inconvenience, just like a grey cloud was on a sunny day.

Hours had passed, it had become dark, and Eddy's mind was going down it's usual downward spiral it always did at night. He had cried, he had screamed, he had hurt himself some more. The sharp razor blade, the stinging sensation and the red blood forming in droplets on his arm. He knew it was wrong, and he knew it wouldn't help in the long run. Even worse - he knew this one would be harder to hide from Brett as it was closer to his wrist than the other ones. He didn't care. He wasn't able to care. Brett knew what he was doing anyway, so why hide it from him anymore? Tears flowed down his cheeks as he rolled onto his back in bed and stared up at the ceiling, razor blade in one hand and blood seeping into his duvet cover from the other arm. He imagined how it would be after he died. Brett would finally be able to do all the video ideas Eddy had been too shy to do, he would have more time and space to practice, and he would finally be able to go out without having to ask Eddy to come. Nobody wanted him there anyway- That's why they always called Brett and not him. They hoped Brett wouldn't ask him to come, but Brett still did every time. Probably because he felt bad for him for not having any friends.

He thought about what the therapist had said the last time he was there. "When you feel yourself slipping, talk about it." Stupid. It never helped to talk about things, and he had nobody to talk to anyway. Brett would certainly not want to hear about it, and as the loser he was he didn't have anyone else. He could do another of those stupid videos, though. They didn't help, but at least the stupid therapist couldn't tell him he didn't try. He sat up in bed and ignored the small red stain on his duvet cover. He also ignored the droplets still forming on his arm. He went down into the living room with his phone to find the tripod camera stand they had for their phones. It was still on the living room table from last time. He was planning to do the video in his room, but the dizziness from the lack of sleep and food caught up with him when he got to the living room, so his body decided to sit down on the couch. After collecting himself for a few moments he snapped his phone into the tripod older and pressed record on his camera app.

"Guess what?" he said to the camera, half sarcastically. "I'm making another of these stupid videos. They aren't working yet, and I'm sure this one won't either. I fucking hurt myself again because I'm just so fucking tired, right? I can't sleep. Please get me some sleeping pills so I can sleep!" He was mostly just rambling, but he showed his arm to the camera with the now dried up blood and everything. "This wouldn't have happened if I could just fucking sleep." He pulled his bangs out of his face, but it just fell down in his eyes again. "I'm not sure if I want to deal with this anymore, you know?" He turned away from the camera, now looking more sad than annoyed. He knew that the lack of sleep was only a symptom of the depression, and that getting him sleeping pills wouldn't help the reason he had that symptom. He also knew that they wouldn't give him sleeping pills because of his suicidal tendencies. Stupid. He wouldn't want to overdose on pills. That's a cowardly way to go, he thought. He needed something better than that, quicker, if he were to do it.

He heard someone turn a key in the door and quickly turned off the recording. The stand fell over when he took his phone from it. The man who entered fell through the door and ended up on the floor, giggling.