The Scars on Your Heart

"Matt's not real." I said, and Oli cocked an eyebrow. I gave him a moment to let that sink in, and he simply smiled at me.

"Of course he is. You just think he's not because you're not used to hearing your best friend's voice in your head." He replied. And I let out and exasperated sigh.

"Actually, Oliver," George stepped in. "Josh's right. Matt isn't real, he's part of your illness."

I saw the smile on Oli's face drop and within seconds he was furious. "Stop that!" He shouted, drawing a lot of attention from passersby. "We've been friends since we were little kids! If he was part of my illness, I think I'd know that by now." He said, crossing his arms and wincing as he did so, but not letting the stern look fall from his face.

"Oliver, your illness' characteristics are delusions and hallucinations of all sorts. You were a lonely child, judging from what I've been told, so your brain may have made a friend up for you." George explained, and Oli threw his fists back down by his sides. I knew I shouldn't have told him that. I should've known he was going to cause a scene.

"He's real, George! You've seen me visit with him! And you've let me call him on the phone!" Oli said, his eyes filled to the brim with disappointment in both me and George.

"Yeah, about that..." George started.

"What about it?" Oli demanded. He resembled a child throwing a tantrum right now, but it was understandable.

"Dean Maskell asked me to let you 'call' and 'visit' with Matt, just to keep you from getting upset. Because we don't like it when you're upset. But only recently did we realize it was only encouraging your illness." George said, and I let out a sigh. I really shouldn't have told Oli. "We were going to see what the new medicine did for you first and then tell you. See if you could be persuaded otherwise. You're suffering from delusions and hallucinations. Thank you, Josh, for telling him. It was only a matter of time. He needs to know."

"Fuck you, George! And you, too, Josh!" Oli whined, taking off running into the crowd.

"Damn it!" George muttered, setting off in the same direction, and I followed. This was just no good. I need to learn to keep my big mouth shut.

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It was an hour into our day-long field trip and we still hadn't found Oli. He was good at hiding. I didn't think he would be able to run that far, seeing as he could barely handle the walk from the bus to the entrance. But he got out of our sight fast, and now he was nowhere to be found. "Fuck!" I cried, lifting my hands to cup the back of my head as I looked around one more time. We had looked around almost the entirety of the Camden Markets and George was just exhausted.

"We should report him missing to the security." He suggested between gasps for air, as he was bent over trying to catch his breath.

"I'll go do that. You stay here." I said, heading in the direction of the security's main office. It took a while but eventually I got there.

"Hello," I said to the woman who was at the main desk. She glared at me.

"What do you need?" She asked in a sharp tone, making me feel a bit nervous.

"Um, I lost my friend. I wanted to report him missing." I muttered, messing with the hem of my t-shirt and avoiding eye contact with the woman. She got out a notepad.

"Description?"

"His name is Oliver Sykes. He has hazel eyes, longish brown hair and he's about 5 feet 11 inches tall, and he's very, very thin. He's wearing a Jurassic Park jumper, dark jeans and black Chuck Taylors."

"What was he last seen doing?"

"He ran off from me and he was very mad. He's very emotionally unstable so I'm really worried about what he could be doing right now."

"Oh, are you with that school for mental boys?"

"Yeah." I replied, slightly offended but not going to let that get to me.

"Okay, we'll make this call as fast as possible. We'll repeat it every thirty minutes. Can I have your chaperone's phone number?" The woman asked, and I gave it to her. "We'll call once we find him. Now, you go and look, too. If you find him before we do, report back here." She said, giving me a curt nod and waving me off.

As I left the building, I heard the intercom say: "Missing person reported; named Oliver Sykes, hazel eyes, medium length brown hair, about 5 feet 11 inches tall and very thin. Wearing Jurassic Park jumper, dark jeans and black Chuck Taylors. Last seen running from chaperone in an angry manner. Emotionally unstable. Please report to security's main office, or this number if you see him..." She read out the number for the entirety of Camden to hear, and I saw people around me tilting their heads up as if they could see it in the sky. Some people programmed the number into their phones, but most just kept walking. That upset me greatly. Why wouldn't people take some time out of their day to find a missing person?!

I made my way back through the crowd to George, who heard the message and gave me a nod. "Good job." He muttered, seeming to have caught his breath now. "Now, let's go try to find him. You gave them my number, correct?" I nodded in response, and he did the same in return. "Okay. Don't you worry, we'll get him before we leave. Even if the rest of the facility leaves before us, we'll walk back to the school if we have to."

I admired George's determination to find Oli. I guess he really did care about him after all. He wanted him to get better just as much as I did.

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Three hours into our eight hour trip and still no sign of Oli. We had walked around the markets three times now.

"What on earth could he even be doing?!" George wondered aloud. "Did I give you the notes already?" He asked, and I nodded, pulling out three ten pound notes from my pocket.

"I saw a weaponry booth a little while back. Maybe we could check if he's stopped by there?" I said, cocking an eyebrow. I saw George's eyes dim a bit as he realized what that meant. Oli could've bought a knife. And Oli plus knives equals no good.

"Let's go."

We made our way backwards to the weaponry table, where there were knives and daggers of all sorts. It took a moment to get the tenant's attention, but eventually we did.

"Have you seen the boy they're describing over the intercom?" George asked, and the man tilted his head.

"Jurassic Park shirt, long hair and real skinny?" The man replied with an even thicker Northern accent than Oli's. George and I nodded in unison. "Oh yeah, he stopped by here right as I opened up shop. Asked for the sharpest knife I had. I sell them at a good price, so he was able to buy it for about twenty pounds." I nearly smacked myself in the face and began yelling at the man, but George beat me to it.

"So you let this boy run off with a knife, and hear his description and don't even bother calling in?!" George cried, drawing attention from bystanders.

The shop owner held up his hands in attempted surrender. "Hey, I just run the shop. I didn't know where he was after I heard the first announcement, so I didn't think it'd be of any use. Calm down, mate." He said, his voice getting a bit higher.

George ran a hand down his own face and let out a sigh. "Thank you." He snapped, obviously not meaning it. We walked away and George pulled out his phone.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Calling the security office, telling them he has a knife." He replied, and I nodded, crossing my arms and tapping my toe as I waited for him to finish his call. "Alright, they know. They should be making the next announcement soon."

I sighed and George and I continued walking. I was on edge, ready to find Oli dead in one of the alleyways with cuts all over him, or maybe to find him with another person's dead body. He wouldn't do that, though, would he? He was only addicted to self-destruction. When you're dealing with someone like him, though, you have to keep in mind all the possibilities.

I was surprising myself with how outwardly calm I was. Oli was working magic in my life. Normally I'd be blaming this all on George, screaming at him and maybe hitting him. But I wasn't. I was just focused on getting my best friend back. I couldn't believe the way he had changed me. I wasn't angry hardly at all anymore. Sure, my blood would boil sometimes, but I rarely got really angry and acted on it like I used to. And this had all happened in about a week.

I had never realized how frequently Oli had meltdowns, though. He had about four just in this past week, mainly over the end of the week! It was amazing how messed up a person could get. I'm sure he wasn't even that bad off compared to some other people with different mental health problems. But he did have it really bad. The poor guy could be upset by anything, even if it wasn't real, to the point of hurting himself. I loved him so much. I just wished I could fix him.

"Is that Oliver over there?" George asked as we walked past a deep alleyway. Sure enough, there was a man in a jumper with longish hair who was very skinny at the end of it. It had to be him. George took off running towards him and I followed, unsure of what to expect.

Oli was sitting on his knees with his head against the brick wall, the knife by his side. He was trembling and whimpering, muttering something to himself.

"Oli?" I asked, and he didn't look up, so I knelt beside him. "Oli, are you okay?"

"Of course he wasn't real..." He muttered. "Of course he wasn't real..."

"Oli!" I said a little louder, placing my hand on his shoulder. I pulled him away from the wall and my eyes widened. "Shit!"
George gasped behind me. Oli's forehead was bloody. "Oliver, what did you do?" He asked him, and I felt myself begin to tear up.

"What?" Oli asked, sounding exasperated. "What do you want?" He said, and then he sobbed, tears spilling down his cheeks.

I looked down a bit and noticed there were three small cuts on his neck. He had tried to slit his own throat. "Oli!" I cried as a sob racked my body. I reached out and pulled him close to me and he let out a small groan.

"What the fuck do you want?!" He whined in my ear, still crying. I didn't let it bother me, though. I just held him.

"Oliver, we need to get you a first aid kit. I'll go back to the security office." George said, giving both of us a pat on the back and running back out.

"I love you, Oli." I whispered, squeezing my eyes shut and crying into his neck, on the opposite side of the cuts. "I love you so much. I'm sorry."

Oli reached his arms up and placed his hands on my back, leaning further into me. "Of course he wasn't real..." He whispered and I hugged him even tighter. Oli whimpered and I felt tears on my shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Oli." He obviously wasn't listening to me, but I needed to say it. I really shouldn't have said anything. "What did you do?"

"You were right." He said quietly, breathing in shakily and then letting all the air out. "Matt's not real." He said, starting to sob. He squeezed me tight and then let go, leaning back away from me and wiping his eyes. "And I remember what happened two years ago." He said. I wasn't sure of exactly what had happened two years ago, seeing as I wasn't in the facility then. But I'd heard about it. And I used to make fun of him for it. "Tom's dead, Josh." He whispered, squeezing his eyes shut and I pressed my lips together. Tears were still streaming down my cheeks and the rough pavement was scratching my knees through my jeans. "Tom's dead and he has been for two years and there's nothing I can do about it." This was too painful for me to bear. I had to listen to him, though. I couldn't just sit there and not listen while he had a breakthrough that they'd been waiting for, for four fucking years. "He killed himself, Josh. He killed himself. You were right. It's all my fault." I began shaking my head as he reached for the knife he had bought with his money and I grabbed his hand before he could grip it.

"No, it's not your fault!" I said frantically, unsure of what he was going to do. What was taking George so long to get back?! "Oli, when I said that, I was trying to make you upset. I don't know the circumstances behind your brother's death. I don't know. But I'm sure he didn't kill himself because of you." Oli looked at our hands and then back up at me, and the pain he was feeling was all too visible. He had lost his former best friend, and realized that Tom was actually dead but thought it was his own fault.

"No," Oli shook his head. "I'm positive he did. He wouldn't visit me because he was afraid of me. And the last time he visited me he told me he hated me." He said, his shoulders shaking. My heart was aching so badly. Fuck. "My dad read me his suicide note in the hospital and after that is when I got the idea that he had failed. That's why our relationship improved afterwards. Not because he realized he was going to miss me. But because he was dead. In his note he had said 'tell Oliver that I hope wherever I go, he doesn't. You all focus on him so much more than me, it's like I don't even exist. Oliver, if you ever read this, I hate you and I always will.'" He recited it from memory, like it was burned into his brain. "That explains how he knew about me and you." He said, having stopped crying since he started talking. "He was in my head the whole fucking time."

He looked at me one last time before proceeding to bash his bloodied forehead against the wall over and over again. I tried to get him to stop, but for a 6 stone 4 pounder, he was pretty strong. I knocked away his knife before he could get the idea to reach for it, and he stopped, letting out a cry of pain and crumpling to the ground. There was blood on the wall and he was crying again.

"I want to die so bad, Josh!" He cried. "I'm not brave enough, though. I don't want to end up in the same place as Tom. That would make him mad." I placed a hand on him and rubbed his back, unsure of what to say.

"It would make me mad, too." I said eventually, barely audibly. He looked up at me and sniffed, wiping his eyes again. Blood was trickling down by his nose and into his mouth but he really didn't seem to care at all. "I don't want you to die. I want you to stay with me." He sat up and stared at me for a while, tears still streaming down his cheeks. "I'm serious." God damn it, George! Hurry the fuck up! "If you died, well... I might as well kill myself, too." Oli began shaking his head and tackled me with a hug, knocking me over so that my back was on the ground and he was on top of me.

"Never kill yourself because of me, Josh. Even if I was dead I couldn't handle that again." He whispered. "I love you so much. I don't want you to die either." He whispered, running his fingers through my hair and staring me in the eyes. He leaned down and pressed our lips together, and in that moment I didn't care if we got caught by George or anyone else. Oli's forehead was almost touching mine and I could feel the blood dripping down onto me, but I didn't care. His fingers intertwined with mine on the concrete. His tears were dropping onto my face, making it feel like I was still crying even though I had stopped.

I don't know how long we laid there but eventually I heard George running up with a few other people. That didn't stop Oli, though. Apparently he didn't care, either. We just wanted to show how much we loved each other, even if it risked us getting separated. George stood a good distance behind us (I could tell by the way he was tapping his toe) but didn't bother stopping us. Eventually Oli got up off of me, blushing furiously and giving me a small smile before turning to George. He let go of my hand.

"Did I interrupt something?" George asked, smiling. That was not the reaction I was expecting at all.

"You're not mad?" I asked, my words rushing out of my mouth before I could stop them. "I thought you'd be mad and tell the dean and separate us for good."

"Not at all, Joshua." He said with a shake of his head, coming forward and kneeling in front of Oli. "Oliver, I've got bandages for your head and neck. Will you let me put them on?" He asked, much more gentle than I'd ever seen him before.

Oli nodded and wiped his eyes again. The security guards standing behind George handed him the first aid kit. He got out an anti-bacterial spray and cleaned the wounds with it, which made Oli hiss, then took out two large and thick pads of gauze and taped them to his head and neck. The security guards gave me a pat on the back as I stood up (it must've been obvious that I had been crying) and the lady who had been posted at the main desk took Oli's hands once he stood.

"Don't you go running off again, mister," She said with a smile. "it was a bit of a hassle to find you."

The security guards left with their first aid kit, leaving Oli, George and I in the alleyway. "So, what do you boys want to do with the rest of our time? We've got about five and a half hours left."

"Holy shit." Oli muttered. "Er, I don't know. What do you wanna do, Josh?"

"Let's walk around some and go inside some of the buildings." I responded. "Get something to eat, maybe?"

Oli grimaced at the thought of food but George looked at him and nodded, and Oli sighed and nodded as well. As he nodded, however, he stumbled forward and I caught him. He had to have been dizzy from all that banging his head on the brick wall. "Okay." He said. "I'm okay."

From there we proceeded to enjoy the rest of our time out in the open. We got ice cream for lunch (which, surprisingly, Oli seemed to enjoy) and walked around, stopping every once in a while for Oli to catch his breath. I bought a t-shirt. Oli told George about everything that had happened and George congratulated him on coming out of his almost lifelong psychotic episode, but gave him his condolences for what he had to have realized in order to get out of it. Oli asked why he couldn't have his knife and George explained why, but every hour or so he'd ask again.

I felt so bad for Oli. His whole world that he had been living in for so long had turned out to be a lie. That had to be devastating. If it was, he wasn't showing it like he had at first. He was smiling and holding my hand and laughing. But I'm sure there was a piece of him that was just waiting to explode again.

----------

The drive back to the school was okay. When people saw the gauze on Oli's head and neck, they laughed. A lot. That definitely took a toll on his mood, but he didn't show it much. We sat in the back again and it was dark as we were driving to Maskell's, so Oli could lean on me all he wanted, especially now that he knew George wasn't mad about our relationship. I placed a hand on Oli's thigh and he covered it with his own, making me smile. I hoped my words had gotten to him earlier that day. I hoped he realized how devastated I'd be if he died. And most of all, I hoped he'd never try to kill himself again.

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"I like George a lot better now," I said with a laugh as I waited for Oli to finish brushing his teeth. George had told us that we could sleep in the same bed again, but that he would continue coming into our room in the mornings just so the dean wouldn't suspect anything. He just warned us that if we went any further than kissing and a little touching, we'd be separated. I was fine with that.

"I know, right?" Oli mumbled with a mouth full of toothpaste. He spit it out and gargled some mouthwash before walking back out in his sleeping jumper and sweatpants. He laid down beside me, pecking my lips and draping his arm over my torso. He had removed his bandages so that the wounds could heal better, so there was a large, raw circle on his forehead where it had busted and three small incisions on his neck, luckily having not bled too much. "I love you." He whispered and I rolled over so that I was facing him.

"I love you, too. Don't you ever scare me like that again." I replied, stroking his face, and he blushed.

"I'm sorry. I was upset." He said quietly, looking away from me.

I placed a finger under his chin, making him look back up towards me. "It's okay." I said, leaning forward and kissing him. "Just, if you're upset, talk to someone about it, okay? As you can tell, hurting yourself or running away never gets anyone anywhere." Oli nodded in response and pulled himself closer to me, his arm still dangling over my side. "Goodnight." I said with a smile, closing my eyes.

"Goodnight." He whispered.