He slowly walked towards his bathroom, bending down to the height of the cabinet.  He opened the door, trying to remain silent despite being the only one home.   He reached into the cabinet and grabbed a small blade he had originally bought to sharpen his pencils.

He stood up shaking, getting a rush to the head, making him fall towards the sink.   He braced himself against it, crying.  His face was numb. That's how he knew it was a panic attack.

"Fuck!" He cried, pressing his forehead against the cold surface of the sink.  "Fucking shit!" He cried, lip quivering.   He caught it in between his teeth and bit down.  He bangged his head against the sick, the desperation to get everything he had inside of him out growing stronger than before.

He stood up again.   His crying had subsided.   He brought his arm up, rubbing roughly at his cheek, turning it red.   His grip on the blade tightened as if someone was going to come take it, causing it to cut his skin.   He flinched as he saw some more blood bead in the cut before slipping off his hand and onto the floor.  It was completely euphoric.  Just like the burn on his arm, his entire body felt giddy.

It didn't hurt. It burned, but it burned nicely. Deeply, in his bones.

He hated it so much, but loved it just the same.  In the moment, it was the best feeling in the world, but after the matter, the guilt tore his soul from his body.

He couldn't help but take the razor in hand and make a cut just above the fingernail marks.   It was long and thin.   Not enough for stitches. Not enough to completely stop the knives in his chest.  But, his mind didn't feel as clouded anymore. All his focus went to the pain. That stupid fucking pain.  

It was like drugs.  

Addiction.

He wanted to stop.   He knew that he should, but he physically couldn't stop.   It wasn't long before he found himself creating more.   So many more. Right in between the other four he had created earlier. 

Devin felt as if he might blackout from the pain, but grabbed some toilet paper.   The pieces he had grabbed were quickly bleeding through, and he started to panic.  He didn't want to be bleeding anymore.

He grabbed a towel off the rack, a gray one, and placed it over his wrist.  It helped a lot better than the toilet paper, but the towel stung a lot more, because it stuck to the cuts. He quickly moved to grab the gauze from the cabinet.   He unrolled it, struggling a bit at tying it around his wrist, while using one hand, and making sure to keep it in place.

But soon enough, it was covered up, and the bleeding had seemed to stop.   Devin was pleased to see that he had gotten it under control.   At least he could get something under control...

He walked back into his room and looked back in the mirror.   He took his shirt off, and even after being careful not to get any blood on his shirt, he still wanted to take it off.   It was clean though, which made him feel good too.   He got another look at himself in the mirror, shirt off.

He hated his stomach.  He was even more self conscious of the scars that lined just above his pants.

Him and Michael, despite their two-year relationship, hadn't gotten that far.  They had tried, not too long ago, but Devin decided he wasn't ready yet. He couldn't explain what all the very obvious scars were. 

Michael was–of course–alright with it and kept reassuring Devin that it was fine, and that he wasn't in a relationship just looking for that, and that he was not going to leave Devin because he didn't want to.

Devin hated his scars, though, and thought that Michael probably would too.

I would be... hurt, but not upset with him.  completely crushed, but not upset. 

Devin soon found himself on his bed, crying again, this time dragging his knees into his chest as close as he could get them.   He felt like screaming again, and that feeling in his chest took over. He let it out, in a long cry.  It sounded like he was gurgling glass.

He knew he could trust Michael, not for a second did he think he couldn't, but his mind was working against him. It was always working against him.

She had been talking to him lately... What if he really doesn't want me anymore?  What if–

His thoughts were cut off abruptly, as his head shot up at the sound of his ringtone.   He sat on the bed as still as he could, willing the noise of the ring to go away. To leave him alone. He thought about powering his phone off, for just a moment.  But then Michael would have a whole emergency team to his house. If Devin didn't respond in at least an hour, Michael was worried. Devin always responded fast, and vice versa.

Devin slowly reached over to his nightside table, and grabbed his phone. Looking at who called, his face drained to ivory. It was Michael.

Any other time, Devin would've been so excited; he loved it when Michael called him first.

Devin felt his body go tense, not knowing what to do. He couldn't not answer, but if he did, what would Michael say?

What if he really is with Aki?  What if he's gonna break up?  What if he wants too?

He tasted the tangy flavor of blood on his tongue, but didn't stop biting it.   If anything, he bit it harder.   He wanted to scream again, just to drown out his thoughts.

Michael wouldn't do that to me...

Devin pressed the answer button, watching as the two lines connected.

"Hello?" Devin asked, trying to keep his voice from breaking.   He took a breath, holding it in silently, expecting the next words to come to be harsh.

"Hey, Devin, how are you?" Michael asked, relieved to hear the boy's voice.   His hands shook at Michael's voice too.

"I-" Devin paused.   He had to go with 'I'm fine'.   He couldn't worry Michael.  "I'm doing well, you?"

His voice shook.   He knew it did. He sounded too formal. He knew he had messed this up, by the very first word he said.  But there wasn't anything he could do about it.   He heard as Michael took a hesitant breath from the other side of the line.

"Devin?" Michael said, words soft, yet demanding.

"Yes?" Devin responded, trying his best not to let any emotion into his voice.  But by doing that, he sounded emotionless, giving off even worse energy.

Fuck. 

Michael scences weren't immediately heightened the second he heard Devin's voice crack up.  He could feel Devin flinching through the phone. 

"Devin are you alright?" Michael asked.   He hadn't heard Devin like this before.   His usually over-confident voice didn't sound remotely close to the one he was using (attempting to use) now, and Michael automatically knew that something was off with him.

"Yes, yes I'm fine.  I promise.   Now, did you need something?  You never call first..." Devin whispered.   He probably wants to break up, I knew it.   That's why he called first.  Of course.

Devin cleared his throat, trying to banish the weak, shaken, tear strung voice he had been stuck with the past couple of minutes, which made him sound like had gurgled glass.

"I... I was just calling cause you usually would have already called to say goodnight by now." Michael said, trying to figure out what might be bothering him.   Nothing came to mind when he thought of what might be wrong.   He scolded himself for that.   As Devin's boyfriend, he should know.  It's his job to make sure he's okay, especially when everyone in his life was barely there.

"O-oh, you remembered?" Devin asked, the shaking easing a bit.  His head still felt clouded, and his breathing still felt off.   To Michael, that was the first thing he had noticed (his breathing) but now, as they sat in silence over the phone, it became prominent.

Something was most definitely wrong with Devin.  

"Of course I would remember.  Hey, um, can you video call?" Michael asked.  Biting his lip a bit.   He didn't want to make Devin uncomfortable, or get turned down by the offer.   He didn't want his suspicions of what was going on to be true.

"I- uh, I... why?" Devin asked, shifting the phone to his other hand, growing uncomfortable with where this conversation was going.

"So I can see your face," Michael spoke, trying to cheer him up a bit.   "And so I can make sure that you're alright."

"What do you mean, of course I'm alright.   I'm fine, I promise." Devin spoke, words coming out faster than he would have liked.

"Devin.   I was going to bring it up at a later time, when you would be comfortable to talk to me about it, but... but I saw them... the... scars on your wrists.   I'm sorry for not bringing it up sooner, it's just- I- you know, it's hard for me cause i wanted to take the right approach to this.  I- I wanted to make you feel like you could trust me, and that I want to be there, and I feel like in the past I haven't done that- and- I,"

Devin, on the other side of the line, burst into tears immediately. 

He wasn't supposed to know, and now he's blaming himself! It's not his fault, it's all my fault.  I did it to myself, he didn't do it to me, and of course I trust him!  Why would he think I didn't!

"Devin?"

Crying and silence.

"Devin, fuck, I shouldn't of- shit,"

More crying.  More silence.

Michael felt his eyes stinging as he held them shut tightly.   He opened his mouth to try and call Devin's name once again, but Devin beat him to the words.

"It hurts! It really hurts!" Devin whined, painfully looking down at his wrist.  "I'm sorry, I'm so so so sorry!" And he kept repeating it.   I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.

Over and over and over again, and it made Michael sick to his stomach.

"Devin... why?  Why are you apologizing, you didn't do... anything! It was all me, fuck."

There was another moment of silence, as Michael knew he fucked up.   He shouldn't have done this over the phone, he didn't know why he had to bring this up.  He should have been there with Devin when he started this conversation.   Not over the phone.

"Baby?" Michael asked, speaking calmly and quietly.   He felt if he used harsh words, or even just his normal voice, he would scare Devin.   Hurt him even more.   He needed to let his guard down if he wasn't Devin to let his own fall.

"I need a hug.   I really need a hug."

Those two sentences made the first tears fall from Michael's eyes.

"I'm coming over.  Now.  Stay where you are, and don't you dare do anything till I get there.   And please, please stay on the phone with me.   I'll be about ten minutes, okay?"

"Okay,"

A minute went by, and Devin listened to Michael's harsh breathing as he ran towards Devin's house.  Devin stayed silent, not wanting to annoy Michael.

"Devin?"

"Mmm?" He responded, feeling almost out of his body.   The pain in his arm seemed to get worse with each passing second, but he didn't want to look down.

They sat in silence once again, Michael saying Devin's name every couple of seconds.   Michael was scared--if you could even call what he was feeling 'scared'--out of his skin, and a cold sweat dripped down the back of his neck.   He didn't care that his legs were burning, he couldn't stop.   He wouldn't stop.

Eventually Devin looked down at his wrist.   It had bled through, almost completely.

"Fuck, well thats new." Devin said, his eyes almost intrigued by the dark red color against his pale wrist, and white gauze bandage.

"What? What's new? Are you okay?" Michael asked, vaguely starting to freak out more.   His legs had gone into autopilot, taking him even faster.

"Nothing," Devin gave a little humorless laugh.  "Don't worry, you pretty little head, Michael."  Devin said, whispering the last part.  Michael pushed himself faster, Devin's street coming into view.

"I'm going to fucking worry.  Let me worry! I'm scared, Devin."  But his words didn't reach Devin.   Devin had placed his phone down on the bed, standing up.

Michael, on extra alert, heard the shift then Devin's bed creaking under the shift in weight..

"Devin? Devin? Devin!"

His house was only just a couple hundred meters away.

buckle up now

with love,

-aa