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Snippet #2652505

located in Booth Lane College, a part of Skins: Secrets Out, one of the many universes on RPG.

Booth Lane College



Characters Present

Character Portrait: Ellie Wallace Character Portrait: Nate Carlile
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"Bella, I'm not going anywhere. You can tell me anything, and I'll still be here. I can't exactly run away at the minute, can I?" He joked, but anxiety was starting to bubble in his stomach. He was really worried about her, and had been for a while now. He sighed heavily as she told him the truth, and his stomach clenched as she spoke about the campout. "Bells, you know how I feel. And if you don't want to talk about it, then that's fine. I have you as my best friend, and that's all I care about. But there's more than just us to your problems, and you need to tell someone. Even if that someone isn't me." He stretched his good hand out to her. He knew what her mother could be like- the night with the bottle had showed him that much. All Jamie wanted was for Bella to be safe and happy.

They were a messed up pair, him and Bella. They were both going through some shit, and he just wanted to make it through the other side. He wished that he could tell her everything- but with everything she was going through, that wasn't fair. She didn't need a suicidal best friend on top of that.


Nate's voice was an almost immediate comfort, as was the hoodie and then the embrace. "I fucked up, Nate," she whispered into his chest. "I just... I made some bad decisions over the past few days and I really want to go home and forget it all but I also want a bloody burger and fries and I really just want to sleep," she managed to get out. His presence was already making her feel better. He didn't seem mad at her- he seemed genuinely concerned. If he did hate her, it wasn't that bad- he'd still come for her, and he was still hugging her.

"So, can we just go get something to eat before I have another meltdown?" She asked, looking up at him. She really wanted to distract him before he started asking too many questions, or caught a glimpse of her arms. She knew that they weren't that obvious, but she was still going to be paranoid about them. She was just praying that she'd been somewhat sensible about it in her drunken or stoned or high state or whatever state she'd been in when she'd shot up,