This pain is constant and sharp, watching the signals that you send

                                    

                                          
I lay in bed staring at my wall, the air conditioning in my room was turned up high making it so it was cold enough that I could wrap myself comfortably into several blankets. 
"Kyle?" Ike's voice said as he cracked open my door.
"Hey buddy," I said weakly and I heard as his little footsteps shuffled closer.
"Are you okay?" Ike crept closer sitting on the edge of my bed. I rolled over to face him, his small face twisted into deep concern.
"Yeah man, I'm fine," I lied trying to hide the upset in my voice.
"But you look sad," he frowned.
"Yeah, I'm a little upset, but I'll be better," I tried to smile at him but I knew my eyes would tell him I was lying. Ike wrapped his small arms around me in a loose hug. "I love you, Ike, thanks."
"What's wrong?"
"Stan and I had another fight," I sighed.
"Again?" he raised his eyebrows and frowned, "Did you beat him up this time?"
"No, it wasn't like that." I closed my eyes tight thinking about everything he said to me and how deep it cut. Ike let go of me and slid off my bed.
"It'll be okay Kyle!" he smiled brightly before turning around and bounding back out of my room. I lay in my bed unmoving for I don't even know how long, just a while. I rubbed my fingertips with the thumb around the nail bed feeling for a good piece of skin to start peeling away. I found a hang nail on my ring finger and with my other hand pinched the small pieces of skin between my index and thumb, slowly pulling it back. I wanted to enjoy the slight stinging sensation it gave me for as long as I could. I felt a sense of calm when I peeled away small parts of myself like I was getting rid of the things that made me worry by getting rid of such a small part of myself. I continued to mindlessly pick at my fingertips wanting Stan, who clearly did not want me.
I still didn't know what to think. I was scared, by the way his mood changed and how fast he became so angry, and it seemed for no reason either. I just wanted to know what was wrong but he shut me out. All I wanted was to help him, I felt so helpless seeing the hurt on his face and wanted to make it all go away but didn't know how.  I felt so empty now and I stared at my phone which was an arm's reach away on my nightstand and debated calling him, I wanted to hear his voice again. I didn't have the mental energy to pick it up and call his number. I didn't know if he was sober or not and whether or not he would want he would even want to talk. I didn't know what this fight meant for us.
We've had plenty of fights before but this one was different.  We weren't just friends now we were together now. Maybe. I wasn't sure anymore. I didn't think he meant what he said it was just the jack talking but also, he hadn't been drunk he'd just been drinking. But he was upset no one means what they say when their upset AND drinking.
I picked up my phone and opened my messages. There was nothing from Stan or anyone actually and I opened my messages to Stan and started to type a new one out. I would start to write one but deleted it and rewrite it. I did this four times before finally hitting send, *I'm sorry about this morning, and I know you're hurting but you hurt me too. We need to talk about what happened. * I put my phone down on my bed not sure what to get in response to my message. I waited anxiously picking the skin from my fingertips on the other hand than I had before.
30 minutes passed by and I got increasingly more anxious checking my phone for a response,  anything. My stomach turned as I felt my skin start to bleed. I managed to sit up and retrieve a bandaid from my nightstand drawer. I carefully wrapped it around my finger and sat cross-legged on my bed rocking slightly with skating breaths from my anxiety. I found a new sense of determination and courage. Fuck it I'm calling him. I listened to the phone dialing and got two rings before the other line opened up.