Archive of Our Own

He could tell them.

He could. It would be so easy. Just a few words, just one admission, and he’d finally have someone in his corner. His friends would finally know him. All of him. The parts even he barely understood. The parts he feared.

Sometimes, he let himself toy with the idea, just for a moment. Imagined how it might feel. Maybe it would feel like relief. Maybe it would be nice to be known the way he’d always wanted but would never admit he did. Maybe they would surprise him, meet him with understanding instead of judgment.

But instead, he was standing at the sink in the bathroom of his house, about to do the stupidest thing he’d done in a very long time. And that was saying something; he did a lot of stupid things. 

A fluorescent hum rattled around in his skull. If he didn’t already have a pounding headache, he would have by now. He looked awful. It was all he could think as he observed his reflection.

He felt exhausted– and not just because it was 7 AM. It was the kind of exhaustion a few nights of good sleep would never be able to fix. The shadows under his eyes were worse than ever, deep and dark, like they’d been carved into his face over the years. At this point, they were probably permanent. The harsh white LEDs overhead didn’t help—they washed him out, making his usually tan skin look almost sickly. 

No matter how appealing it seemed, he couldn’t. He was already enough of a burden. He’d already leaned on them, taken advantage of them, way more than he should have. They’d been nothing but good to him, and he’d still managed to screw things up. He’d failed Ash—hurt her with his recklessness. Another mistake . To make them shoulder this, too, would go against whatever sense of morality he had left.

And, on the off chance that they didn’t understand, that they thought he was stupid, or weak, or selfish? That they pitied him—or worse, dismissed him entirely? He couldn’t take that. The thought alone made his chest tighten, like something sharp was wedged between his ribs.

He’d seen a razor on the bathroom counter.

That had been the start of his downfall. This particular one, at least. He’d seen it coming for a long time now–ever since he died, he hadn’t felt quite like himself in a way he was all too familiar with. Before that, he'd told himself things were getting better, that he was getting better. Now, though, it felt like everything was unraveling at the seams. He couldn’t shake the nightmares, couldn’t shake the way Ash had looked at him after he woke up.

He was just thankful he could hold himself together until they were safe, back inside the walls of an actual house instead of a sterile facility or a dingy motel. The other five were just outside the hallway, sleeping, packed closely together on the floor of his living room. Finally, he had a moment to himself– he could relax his expression without worrying about what they would think.

The razor sat there innocently, as if waiting for him to notice. The moment he did, he couldn’t look away. Something about it pulled at him. He reached for it almost without thinking. No harm in just holding it, right? He rolled it around in his hand absentmindedly.

The coolness of it against his palm was familiar, grounding in a way he hadn’t felt in months. His body seemed to know what to do even if his mind didn’t want to admit it. He rolled up his sleeve, the motion automatic. His hand hovered just above his arm. Not too close to the wrist– that would be way too obvious. He knew exactly where to place it, a spot that wouldn’t show even if his sleeve slipped.

For a second, he hesitated. His reflection in the mirror caught his eye, pale and hollow-eyed. He barely recognized himself. His breath came unevenly, shallow and sharp in the stillness of the bathroom.

He could tell them. 

He could walk outside right now, wake someone up, stop this before it became something worse.

He wouldn’t.

_____________

It was morning. From the amount of light in the room, Tyler guessed around 7 AM. A quick glance at his phone screen through squinted eyes confirmed it. He looked around the room, mentally tallying the amount of people awake. From what he could tell, it was only him– he counted six lumps under their sleeping bags and piles of blankets, all of them unmoving. Tyler ran a hand through his hair. 

It was no surprise that they were tired. He was, too.

Tyler was used to being the first to wake up, and even he wanted to lie down and go back to sleep for another few hours. It was hopeless, though; he knew that his body wouldn’t let him. Sighing, he stood up to use the bathroom, his knees protesting at the movement. He walked through the hallway, still half-asleep. Once he reached the door, he opened it almost on autopilot…

…And then quickly shut it again. Someone was definitely in there, and they hadn’t bothered to lock the door. Before he could fully close it, though, what he’d seen inside the room registered in his mind. Aiden, standing over the sink, staring into the mirror like he didn’t recognize his own reflection. He’d been holding something shiny above his arm, one sleeve pulled up to his elbow.

Aiden had startled when he opened the door, a full-body flinch, and quickly pulled up his sleeve. Whatever he’d been holding clattered loudly as it slid down the porcelain sink bowl.

Tyler paused. That… definitely didn’t look right. Slowly, he pushed the door open again. Their eyes met. Aiden’s easy smile didn’t match the upper half of his face. He was staring at him like a deer in headlights, like he’d been caught doing something he knew he wasn't supposed to be doing.

“...What are you doing?” Tyler drawled, raising an eyebrow.

Aiden quickly smoothed out his expression so there was no trace of his previous panic. “Using the bathroom?” he responded, leaning against the counter casually.

He said it like it was obvious, and sure, it should have been, but that definitely didn’t match up with what it had looked like he was doing. Tyler’s eyes caught on the glint in the sink.

“What is that?”

Aiden's eyes widened almost imperceptibly as he followed Tyler’s gaze. “A razor.”

Tyler’s gaze narrowed. The pieces were starting to add up in ways he really didn’t like. “What were you doing with a razor?”

“Am I not allowed to shave?” Aiden tilted his head almost unnervingly, still smiling.

Tyler didn’t know a lot of guys his age who shaved, but it could have been plausible. The quickness of his response, though, was what stopped Tyler from believing him. It was too calculated, too forced. That, and how Aiden had looked when he first opened the door. 

It was a little hard to believe, but he knew what he saw, and he couldn’t think of anything else that matched up with that image. Still, for once he hoped that he was wrong.

Tyler stepped into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him so that it was cracked open only slightly. Aiden's eyes flitted quickly between Tyler and the door.

“Show me your arm,” Tyler deadpanned, staring pointedly at him.

Aiden immediately straightened at the demand, but tried to hide the movement. “What?” He laughed, but there was a nervous lilt to it. “Why?”

“You know why,” Tyler pressed.

Aiden quirked an eyebrow as if humoring him. “I kinda don’t.”

His eyes were hollow–more hollow than usual–in a way that made Tyler’s stomach church. His gaze was cool, holding an air of confidence, but a subtle tension bled through his fidgeting hands and stiff expression.

Tyler stepped closer, ignoring his denial. “If you have nothing to hide, then show me.”

“You’re being weird.” Aiden’s brows furrowed slightly. He crossed his arms over himself as he gripped each sleeve protectively.

“Come on,” Tyler urged, annoyance filling his tone. 

He needed to confirm his suspicion, make Aiden drop his guard, even if only for a moment. If he let the chance slip now, it was more than likely he’d never get the opportunity again. Aiden had been a master of avoidance for as long as Tyler knew him. 

He took another step forward. 

In response, Aiden took a step back. He wasn’t smiling anymore.

“Get away from me,” he snapped, his voice low and uncharacteristically serious. He pressed himself into the corner of the bathroom farthest away from Tyler.

Tyler almost flinched at the change in tone, his eyes widening. It was like a light had been switched– Aiden’s easy grin replaced by a posture not all that different from a cornered animal. Suddenly, Tyler became aware of Aiden’s erratic breathing and the stiffness coating every muscle in his body. His expression was guarded, stance defensive like he was afraid Tyler was going to reach out and grab his arm himself.

He… could see how he’d given Aiden that impression.

Tyler mentally scolded himself for pushing him too far. It was a bad habit of his– he never seemed to know when to stop. He quickly backed up, holding his hands up in a motion of surrender. 

Still, by this point, they both knew that he was hiding something, and Aiden had to have known that he knew. He was grasping at straws, trying to cover up something he’d already admitted to through his actions alone. But it would be hard to get Aiden to outright admit it, and even harder to get him to show him. He needed a new strategy.

Tyler relaxed his tone, attempting to make himself sound as encouraging as he possibly could– which wasn’t something he had a lot of practice with. “Come on, Aiden,” he practically pleaded. 

Aiden stayed silent, eyeing him warily.

“I won’t tell anyone.”

Aiden didn’t move, still standing rigidly against the wall. Tyler mentally cursed.

“...Please?” He looked down, uttering the word as if he were embarrassed of it.

He had employed a last-ditch effort– pleading. If that didn’t work, he would be forced to give up, leaving with only the suspicion that Aiden needed help and with no grounds to actually insist on helping him. He really, really , didn’t want to do that. 

As much as he told himself he wasn’t attached to Aiden, to any of them besides Taylor… he couldn’t stop himself from caring. He'd been there. He knew what it felt like, and he knew that no one deserved to suffer alone, in silence. Especially not when all of them were so willing to help. Not when Aiden had already taken on so much by himself and gotten nothing in return.

Aiden hesitated a moment, expression still wary, his fingers tapping on his thigh as he mentally debated the decision. Tyler watched him with bated breath. After a few tense seconds, Aiden let out a heavy sigh. Tyler’s heartbeat quickened in anticipation. Hesitantly, Aiden held out a sleeved arm. He didn't look happy about it. Actually, it looked like the gesture physically pained him.

Tyler’s eyebrows raised, unable to hide his shock. He hadn’t been expecting Aiden to oblige at all, especially with the less-than-ideal way he’d approached the entire situation, but it was an offer, and he’d be an idiot not to take it.

Gently, Tyler took his arm. Aiden flinched. He didn’t bother trying to hide it this time. His eyes were focused on the far wall, avoiding Tyler’s gaze. The way Aiden looked, he might as well have been walking to his own execution.

He slowly rolled up Aiden’s sleeve. As soon as his forearm was uncovered, Tyler reflexively hissed through his teeth.

He wasn’t sure what he’d expected when he asked to see Aiden’s arm, but somehow, this was worse. Scars covered nearly all of Aiden’s upper arm, stopping abruptly just above his elbow. It was deliberate–he could tell. There was a reason he’d been able to keep them hidden for so long. His eyes raked over the damage–raised lines, stark white marks, some silvery with age and others a smooth, pale pink. They were painful to even look at.

Distantly, he realized he couldn’t remember ever seeing Aiden not wearing long sleeves. He knew the reason why now. 

What was odd, though, was that none of the scars looked fresh. He knew Aiden hadn’t cut himself just before he walked in–there was no blood on the razor–but he’d expected him to have done it fairly recently. Even the newest-looking ones had to be at least a few weeks old.

Aiden had probably been resisting the urge the entire time he’d known him, and none of them had had a single clue. Not until this moment

At his reaction, Aiden grumbled, “Don’t be an ass.”

“Sorry,” Tyler murmured, still tracing the scar-lines with his eyes. He sounded distracted, the apology half-hearted.

It was one thing to have the suspicion that Aiden cut himself–to be almost sure, almost positive– but not have enough real proof to justify it. It was another thing entirely to actually have it confirmed , to see the evidence on Aiden’s arm right in front of him. 

Tyler looked back up at Aiden. He was staring down at his own arm now, his features pinched slightly in disgust. Something stirred in his gut.

Tyler liked to think he was a little more observant than most people– he’d had a feeling that something wasn’t quite right with him for a few weeks by now, ever since Aiden’s death. In the Waffle Home, the one time Tyler did actually try to confront him, Aiden had brushed it off, so he’d let it go. He’d had no evidence, after all.

He was really starting to regret not pushing the issue.

Still, before walking in on Aiden holding a razor to his arm, he never would have guessed that he would do something like this. That, at some point, it had gotten this bad. And it was bad, wasn’t it? Whatever had pushed Aiden to hurt himself, multiple times from the looks of it, had to have been really, really bad. He didn’t want to think about what Aiden had gone through to get to this point.

He especially didn’t want to think about the fact that he could have done something. That Aiden had needed help and he wasn’t there, that he didn’t notice something that should have been so obvious. Should have been, if Aiden hadn’t done everything in his power to hide or deny it.

He wanted to be mad at Aiden for not reaching out, for saying nothing to any of them–even if it wasn’t him–but he couldn’t find it in himself to be. 

Aiden was the first to break the suffocating silence. 

“I wasn’t gonna do it,” he muttered, looking off to the side. His arm was still in Tyler’s grip.

Tyler’s eyes narrowed. “It sure looked like you were going to.”

He looked down at Aiden’s arm again. He found it hard to look away, the crisscross pattern disturbingly hypnotic. As soon as Aiden tracked Tyler’s gaze, he pulled his arm back like he’d been burnt, quickly rolling his sleeve down.

“I wasn’t ,” he emphasized, looking Tyler in the eyes . “It was just… instinct. I don’t do that anymore.”

“What was instinct?”

“The razor,” he mumbled. “I don’t even know whose it is.” He sighed, running a hand through his curls. “I just… saw it on the counter and grabbed it before I even realized.”

Aiden looked almost angry at himself. Ashamed. That seemed to be a common theme in the time since he’d cornered him in the bathroom.

“Your first instinct after seeing a razor was to cut yourself.” Tyler deadpanned, staring at him skeptically.

Aiden bristled. “It’s a hard habit to break,” he defended, almost curling in on himself.

Tyler forced himself to relax. Interrogating Aiden wasn’t going to get them anywhere. At least he was being honest with him, anyway. It was mildly refreshing, not seeing that stupid smile on his face for once. He just wished it were under better circumstances.

He sighed. “Well, if it happens again, talk to me. Or any of us.” He leveled his gaze, looking Aiden in the eyes. “We want to help you.”

Aiden looked away. “I will,” he said, but his tone was unconvincing.

Tyler didn’t quite believe him, but there was nothing else he could do. Not at that moment, at least.

He pulled out his phone, checking the time. He felt like they’d been talking for hours, but it had only been about ten minutes. “We need to go back,” Tyler said. “No one uses the bathroom for this long.”

Aiden grimaced as if he’d just remembered the existence of the rest of the group. “Yeah,” he muttered, straightening from where he’d been leaning on the wall. He looked hesitant to leave.

Tyler stepped towards the door, reaching for the knob. He stepped into the dim light of the hallway and heard Aiden shut off the lights behind him with a soft click . He started towards the living room, walking back to the rest of the group without looking back towards Aiden.

_____________

Aiden followed behind Tyler through the hallway in a sort of haze, his thoughts incessant and buzzing in his head like an annoyingly persistent mosquito.

Tyler saw . Everything he’d worked so hard to keep hidden had been for nothing, all because of one razor. He never should have picked up that razor. He hadn’t even had the common sense to lock the door . In an ideal world, no one would ever have found out about his… issues … but, if they had to, this definitely wasn’t how he wanted it to happen. 

Still, he told himself, as long as the rest of the group didn’t find out, nothing would have to change. Tyler would stop caring after a while, or, better yet, forget about what happened entirely, and everything would go back to normal between them.

He hesitated as Tyler walked on in front of him, standing in the door frame before the wide expanse of the living room. He’d never really appreciated the open floor plan of his house– it made the house seem much bigger than it was, which really wasn’t ideal when he spent most of his time there alone– but now he was really starting to hate it. He felt oddly exposed as he entered the room.

He eyed the amount of people sitting up in their sleeping bags– everyone but Ben, who was still buried under a lump of blankets. Hushed voices filled the room, sounding far too relaxed compared to how he felt at the moment. 

He wasn’t sure how long he’d spent in front of the mirror before Tyler found him, but it had to have been awhile judging by how many people were awake now. The morning sun flooded through the skylights in the ceiling, forming columns of floating dust particles below each one.

Wasting no time, Tyler sat down on top of his sleeping bag. Aiden settled into his own, trying his best to relax. It wasn’t working. He felt an odd tension between them, and he wasn’t sure if he was the only one. Aiden tried to plaster a smile on his face, but it slid right off every time. It felt like all of his walls were crumbling around him and there was nothing he could do but sit there and watch it happen.

In an effort to avoid Tyler’s eyes, his gaze fell on Logan, who was looking between him and Tyler warily. Clearly, he wasn’t the only one who felt the tension.

“I… feel like I’m missing something here.” Hesitantly, Logan spoke up, his eyes still darting nervously between them.

Aiden pointedly stared at Tyler, hoping to tell him with his eyes not to mention anything of what had happened in the time they were gone.

He’d said he wouldn’t tell them. Still, a pit of fear sat heavy in Aiden’s gut. The only person he trusted not to tell anyone about his scars was himself. Ben knowing was bad enough, but he hadn’t told anyone yet, so he felt fairly secure in the knowledge that he wouldn’t.

Tyler wasn’t looking at him. Instead, he turned towards Logan, then opened his mouth. It happened almost in slow motion, before Aiden could stop him– before he could even register what Tyler was about to say.

“Aiden cuts himself.”

The world came to a stop.

Aiden’s stomach lurched like the wind had been knocked out of him, his breath catching in his throat.

His ears were ringing. Every noise and reaction–every murmur of surprise or disbelief–filtered through a dizzying haze as his breaths sped up and his mouth went dry. He forced himself to drown them out, having at least the awareness to know that freaking out would just make everything so much worse. As if it wasn’t bad enough. 

Everything faded to the background, and, for a moment, it was only him and Tyler. 

 “You said you wouldn’t tell them.”

It was the only thought in his head, the only words he could manage to force past his lips. Tyler’s eyes widened almost imperceptibly before he quickly looked away, his expression pinched.

“Why would you tell them?” Aiden pressed after he didn't get a response. It came out hoarse, his tone full of betrayal.

And he did feel betrayed. He felt hurt, as much as he told himself he didn’t. He’d reached out to Tyler when he’d asked– put his trust in him, if only for a moment. Shared a secret with him that only one other person in the world knew. Until now. 

He’d never been one to trust easily, and now he couldn’t help but think he was right to be that way, considering where it had gotten him.

Tyler's gaze was stuck to the floor. “I knew you wouldn’t, so I did,” he replied evenly, having the nerve to sound like he was in the right.

Aiden clenched his fists into his blanket until his knuckles turned white.

“No one had to know!” he finally snapped, his voice raw and cracked. His breathing picked up as the reality of the situation slowly set in. He felt like chipped ceramic– like one wrong move would make him crack.

His attention was caught by Ben slowly sitting up in his sleeping bag, looking around the room blearily. He must have woken up from all the noise. Aiden’s gaze shifted to the rest of the group. All eyes were on him, their faces displaying various levels of concern, of shock. Of pity .

They were looking at him like he was fragile. Like he was helpless.

Shit . 

This was exactly what he hadn’t wanted. Sure, maybe sometimes he wished that they knew, that he had someone to confide in. But not like this. Never like this. It had to be on his own terms, his own decision. Tyler had taken that choice away from him, and Aiden resented him for it.

He felt pathetic.

In all the time he’d known the group, no one had ever treated him like he was anything but normal . Well, as normal as he made himself appear, but it was exactly what he wanted. They had never treated him like what he knew he was, and he’d never wanted that to change.

His face heated up under their scrutiny. If he had any chance of denying it before, it was out the window now. He hadn’t even thought before he reacted– the words flew out of his mouth. He wasn’t past making Tyler look like a liar to keep up his own facade, but now he had no chance of doing that.

“Is that true?” Ashlyn asked carefully, her voice still rough with sleep.

He couldn’t bring himself to answer, even though his earlier reaction said enough about the validity of the statement. She probably wanted to hear him admit it directly. His heart rate picked up. Of everyone there, Ashlyn was probably the person he least wanted to find out about this. He’d considered her a friend– maybe his closest friend, maybe even more than that. He would have done anything for her not to see him like this.

He clenched his jaw, trying to pretend he was anywhere but there.

In the silence, Tyler answered for him.

“I walked in on him about to do it.”

Aiden’s head snapped towards him. “Seriously, what the hell?” he said, the words laced with a mixture of anger and disbelief.

Tyler was making the situation seem way worse than it really was– he had to have noticed that none of the scars were recent. And, sure, he’d gotten a little caught up in the moment, acted on instinct, but he would never have actually done anything. Especially not when all of them were only in the next room over. Eventually, he would have realised what he was doing, would have caught himself before he reached the edge of relapse.

He would have .

Ben must have caught up on the situation since waking up; he looked almost as angry at Tyler as Aiden felt. He knew how close Aiden kept the secret. He’d found out in one of Aiden’s darkest moments, but always assured Aiden that he would never tell anyone. 

They didn’t talk about it much after that—Aiden refused to—but sometimes, he still felt Ben’s lingering glances when he thought he wasn’t looking. It made his skin crawl. He hated the way Ben looked at him then, like he was someone who needed help. Regrettably, he had the feeling he would be on the receiving end of a lot more of those looks after this.

He was grateful that Ben had kept his promise, but, in the end, now that everyone knew, it didn’t matter.

“Tyler, stop,” Taylor chided weakly.

Aiden appreciated the effort, but the damage was already done.

Tyler ignored her. “They need to know,” he told Aiden, as if that explained everything. 

“You couldn’t just keep it to yourself?” he shot back.

Tyler hesitated, his expression finally displaying something other than stubborn righteousness. “I’ve known something was off for a while. I think most of us did.”

“What?” His voice cracked a little and he cringed internally. “Off how?”

“He’s… not wrong,” Logan mumbled, fidgeting with the cuff of his sleeve.

Aiden turned to Logan, shooting him the same betrayed look.

“Sorry,” Logan said, wincing. “But… I was getting a little worried, honestly.”

He looked around the room, blanching at all of their expressions. All this time, had they all known there was something wrong with him? Maybe he wasn’t nearly as good at hiding it as he liked to think he was. It felt like he was in some sort of intervention, everyone ganging up on him at once.

He couldn’t handle their faces. He couldn’t handle any of it, not right now, and he felt about five seconds away from breaking down right there in the middle of his living room. That would add even more shame to the situation.

“I’m done with this,” he managed to spit out, abruptly standing up and pivoting on his heel.

He heard voices call out to him as he walked away, but he clenched his fists and kept walking, head down. There was nothing he wanted more in that moment than to just disappear, but the best he could do was hide in his bedroom until one of them inevitably came to check on him, worried. He hoped, this time, that they wouldn’t, but he also knew his friends– they would. They always did.

_____________

Taylor turned to Tyler immediately after Aiden was out of earshot, fixing him with a pointed glare. “You need to apologize.”

“For what?”

“Seriously?” Taylor stared at him like he’d just asked the stupidest question in the world. “He obviously didn’t want us to know.”

“He can’t keep pretending nothing’s wrong,” Tyler said, crossing his arms. “Tell me you guys haven’t noticed something off about him. Logan did,” he continued, gesturing to Logan in an effort to back up his point.

Logan flushed at the attention, looking away.

“ That wasn’t the way to get him to talk to us,” Taylor argued. “If anything, It’ll make him not want to.” She let out a heavy sigh, running a hand down her face. Her expression mirrored the rest of theirs; a little shocked, but mostly sad. “He would have told us when he was ready.”

“He wouldn’t have. That’s what he does– hides stuff from us even if it’s hurting him.”

Logan chewed on his lip, his brow furrowing. Then, quietly, he spoke up. “...Was he really going to?”

Tyler nodded. “I told you, I walked in on him. And… I saw the scars,” he said.

A heavy silence filled the room as they all absorbed the situation. Maybe they were experiencing the same revelation he’d had when he found out– Aiden was hiding things from them, and he had been for a long time. How much of Aiden did they really know? How much of his personality was real ?

Suddenly, Ben turned his phone around. His brows were furrowed in what looked like anger.

He didn’t want anyone to know. It was clearly aimed at Tyler, but everyone was able to read it.

“You knew?” Ashlyn said, turning to Ben in surprise.

Of course I did.

And yeah, it made sense. Of course Ben knew– he lived with Aiden. It would be hard for him not to have found out. But… why would he not tell them?

“And you didn’t tell us?” Tyler asked, raising an eyebrow.

Ben frowned. It was his choice.

“Yeah. It was .” Taylor remarked, fixing Tyler with a hard stare.

He sighed. “Look, I was trying to help him.”

None of them look like they believed him. He was starting to rethink his actions, and, at this point, was grasping at straws trying to justify them.

“He needs help .”

“And we’ll help him. But you need to apologize,” Ashlyn said, her eyes narrowed at him.

He grimaced at the realization: she was right. It shouldn’t have surprised him; Ashlyn ended up being right in most cases. Aiden did deserve help, but he’d also broken a promise, and broken his trust. He just hoped it wouldn’t be permanent. 

He sighed, his shoulders dropping in defeat. “I’ll talk to him.” 

Ashlyn just nodded. “Good.”

But there was still an unspoken tension in the room as they all grappled with the weight of the new realization. And, most importantly, how they would help Aiden. If they knew anything about Aiden, there was one thing they all knew for sure– it wouldn’t be easy.

_____________

Aiden’s inner spiraling was interrupted by knocking on his bedroom door. He slowly lifted his head from its position lying face-down on his pillow, groaning internally. He really thought he’d have more time alone before anyone came to check on him, and he could only guess who it was.

“Fuck off.”

Tyler's voice from the other side of his door quickly proved him right.

“I’m coming in.”

He sat up in his bed, squinting as a line of light from the hallway cut through the dimness of his room. It was lit only by the red LEDs crudely taped to his ceiling. Tyler was definitely not a welcome sight, and he was set on making that known.

“I said fuck off,” he said as the door continued to open.

Tyler stepped into his room anyways. He shut the door behind himself with a quiet click, then leaned against it.

“I’m… here to apologize,” Tyler said. For once, he sounded unsure.

He huffed a bitter laugh. “It’s a little late for that.”

“Look, I went about it the wrong way, but–”

Aiden cut him off, his voice seething. “It was my choice, Tyler. Not yours.”

“I know, just–“

"Why did you tell them?" As much as he willed it not to, his voice still broke with the strain of the betrayal.

“I’m– we were worried about you.”

“You could have talked to me,” Aiden said, indignant.

“That’s the thing. I tried .”

“When?” Aiden demanded.

He couldn’t think of a single time where Tyler had–

“In the diner," Tyler stated. "And you lied."

Oh.

He swallowed thickly as he realized the direction Tyler was heading. Still, he denied it. 

"I never lied."

Tyler raised an eyebrow at him. "You said you didn’t want to die.”

“I didn’t want to die,” Aiden countered.

“Then why didn’t you move?”

Aiden didn’t answer. He couldn’t answer, because the truth was that he didn’t know. 

Tyler leveled his gaze at him. "You're still lying. I don't know if it's to me, or to yourself, but you are."

He grit his teeth. Tyler had no right to psychoanalyze him after what he did.

“You act like you know everything about me,” he snapped.

Tyler flinched, just slightly, and for a second, Aiden regretted it. He quickly pushed the feeling down.

“I know you enough to know you need help and you’re too stubborn to ask for it.”

"I don't need help ." The word was sticky on his tongue, thick and disgusting. Help . Like he was a charity case someone took in just to make themselves feel better. He didn’t need help. He wasn’t some project to fix and then discard once it was all better. Tyler didn’t know what he was committing to; what he’d pulled the rest of the group into.

Tyler looked unimpressed. “Clearly you do."

He turned away, glaring at the wall like it’d personally offended him. "Not from you."

Tyler hesitated for a second, then sighed. His voice softened. “Then can we just… talk?”

“About what?” Aiden asked, even though he was pretty sure he knew the answer. Tyler was the last person he wanted to just talk with right now.

“About anything.” Tyler shrugged, trying and failing to sound casual.

“You’re not gonna tell everyone what I say?” Aiden asked, his voice edged with something sharp. Maybe he was being a little too vindictive, but he couldn’t help it. Tyler had broken his trust; he wasn’t going to let it go easily, if at all.

Tyler rubbed a hand down his face, looking exhausted. Aiden could pinpoint the moment Tyler realized they weren’t going to get anywhere with the way things were going.

He raised his hands in a helpless gesture. “Look, I wasn’t trying to piss you off.”

Aiden laughed bitterly. “Yeah, well you did.”

“I just—” Tyler exhaled, frustrated, then muttered, “I don’t want you to go through this alone.”

“I’ve been doing fine so far,” Aiden said.

“No, you haven’t.”

“How would you know?”

“Because I’ve been there,” Tyler finally admitted, his voice quieter but firm. There was a weight to his words, a desperation in his eyes that Aiden had never seen before.

Aiden’s brain stalled. There was no way Tyler was implying what he thought he was.

“Been… where?”

Tyler gritted his teeth, shifting uncomfortably. “I had, uh, you know…”

He raised an eyebrow. “You know?” Maybe Aiden did know, but he needed to hear him say it.

Tyler sighed wearily. “Depression,” he finally admitted. “I had it. I’m guessing you do too.”

Aiden stared incredulously. “ You? Depression?”

Tyler just looked at him.

“Oh.” Was all Aiden could manage to say.

“I went through it alone, and it sucked.” His words were blunt, cut straight to the point. “You don’t have to. You have friends– good friends”

Aiden shook his head, grimacing. “I can’t,” he said, almost in a whisper.

“You don’t want to worry them, right? You’re scared they’ll judge you?”

His eyes widened and he nodded slowly, still getting over the shock of the revelation. “...Yeah.”

“They won’t,” Tyler stated flatly. “I’m telling you they won’t. And I’m sorry I told them but I’m not sorry they know.”

Aiden tugged at the cuff of his sleeve, avoiding Tyler’s gaze. “They have enough of their own issues to deal with.”

“Listening to your issues isn’t an issue. They want to be there for you. If you’ll let them.”

Aiden turned Tyler’s words over in his mind. The idea of talking to them– actually talking to them, telling them all the messed-up things that his brain did to him– it scared him. A lot. They’d never look at him the same way again.

Still, they had never been anything but kind to him, and they already knew the worst of it. At this point, there wasn’t much to lose.

He still didn’t fully trust Tyler, but he’d told Aiden they would listen. More than anything, Aiden wanted to believe him. He wanted him to be right.

“…Okay.”

The word barely made it past Aiden’s lips, so quiet he almost wasn’t sure he’d said it aloud.

Tyler froze. “Okay?” he echoed, like he thought he hadn’t heard him right.

Aiden swallowed hard, his throat dry. He forced himself to meet Tyler’s eyes, then immediately regretted it. There was a sickening sort of hopefulness in them that made him want to take it all back.

He let out a breath. “Okay. I can… talk to them. I guess.”

Tyler blinked, like his brain was catching up to his ears. “Wow.”

Aiden just sighed tiredly. “Will you leave me alone now?”

Tyler nodded slowly. “Yeah. Yeah… I will.”

He began to walk away, shutting the door behind him. Aiden sat there for a moment, just processing. Then, he lied back down, facing the wall. Just as he was getting comfortable, he heard the door creak open again, a slit of light hitting the wall.

“Aiden?” Tyler called from the doorway.

“Hm?” he hummed, looking over his shoulder at him

“I really am sorry,” he said, and it sounded sincere; almost uncomfortably so.

Aiden paused. For the first time in the entire conversation, he let himself really look at Tyler. His shoulders were tense, his expression uncertain, like he half-expected Aiden to start cussing him out or throwing things at him.

He didn’t.

“I know,” Aiden said.

Tyler hesitated, still lingering. “And—thank you.”

Aiden huffed. “I’m not doing it for you.”

“I know,” he said. “I’m just glad you’re doing it.”

Without another word, he pulled the door shut behind him.

Aiden lay back on his bed, staring at the ceiling. His chest felt tight, but not in the usual way. More like a weight shifting, something loosening—just a little. He still hated that Tyler had broken his promise, still wished things had played out differently.

But the truth would have come out eventually. Maybe in a week, maybe in a year—but one way or another, they would have known. What difference did it really make if they knew now instead of later?

And maybe—just maybe—it wouldn’t be so bad to have someone to talk to. Or a few people to talk to. He wasn’t used to it, to having that option. Not at all. But… maybe he could get used to it. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad so have people to confide in.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad for them to know him .

It wasn’t complete trust– not yet. Maybe not for a while. But it was something. For now, it would have to be enough.