I forgot to post this the other day, but here's an alternate chapter 16.(;

Alex is disgusted with himself. He didn't do it. He couldn't fucking do it. It was pressed to his skin, so close, but something was holding him back. He couldn't force his hand to make the quick movement, couldn't make it slide so easily across the veins encased in his thin wrist. He willed it to move, begged it to move, yet it remained stationary, as if his body was telling him no, he wasn't allowed. He had thrown the razor, saw it hit the side of a building and bounce off, disappearing into the bleak darkness. He supposes he can find some pills to take later, but for now, he's much too tired to do anything. The whole razor excursion took a lot out of him, as strange as that may sound.
He sighs, and wonders why so many things are against him these days.
Why he can't do the one thing he really wants.
A while later, He finally falls asleep, hand hanging over the side of the cold metal bench, practically begging to be held.

Hours later, he opens his eyes, and is surprised to find a pair of deep blue irises staring into his brown ones, a questioning look hidden in them.

He brings his hand up to wipe the sleep from his half-open eyes before sitting up and properly looking at the person behind the blue orbs.
It's a boy, about 19 years old, with bleach blonde hair sticking up in a million different directions.

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yeah. I don't know where I was going with that. No relevance to the story.