The Dreaming Smile Above the Skin

Shit. Did I really forget to lock the door...
I throw my arm behind my back as he opens the door the whole way. He's standing there, I'm not sure if he's concerned or worried.
"Ry... what's going on?" He says quietly.
"Nothing." I reply in a barely audible voice. Lying to Brendon at this point... it almost feels like sin.
His eyes pan to the sink... the knife. Oh fuck.
I can tell he notices blood. I can't be here, not now.
I then try to move past him quickly.
"Ry stop!" He says, but before I can barely make it out the door, he grabs my arm.
I whine slightly at the pain; I'm busted. He lets go, and I can very well get out of there, but the look in his eyes... I don't move.
He looks back at his hand... my blood... I see it on his palm.
His eyes pan to mine slowly, and my heart shatters.
"Why?" He asks.
Words can't even form on my tongue.
---
We're in the kitchen. Even in his weak state, he manages to clean my scars and wrap my arm up with bandages.
"You never answered my question." He says in a muffled voice.
"It's just hard... imagining life without you." I tell him.
"That doesn't mean you should do this to yourself."
I become quiet. There's nothing I can say at this point. I would end having to spill the truth and that would be a big mistake. Brendon doesn't need to know. He shouldn't worry... he shouldn't care. I don't want his sympathy.
I can see frustration slightly rising in him. The way he's chewing on his lower lip... he wants me to say something.
He takes both of my hands in his, "Ryan... listen..." He takes a breath between words and I look right in his eyes.
"I don't want to see you hurting yourself. This isn't like you."
He really doesn't know me... not that I'd want him to know.
His fingers brush against my palms, "I know you're stronger than this. Please don't hurt yourself anymore." The last few words fall into a whisper.
"Okay." I say.
And maybe I will try my best... for him.

---

In the span of two weeks Brendon has gotten to the point of anorexic skinny. To see his bones stick out like that... it makes me want to cry. I get shaky every now and again, looking down at my slowly healing skin. The way Brendon touched my arm that night, the way he took care of me... I'd never want to take it for granted. The aching down in the pit of my stomach; the dreams of finding that release again. Everything burns some days, but I keep strong. I have to. He's the only one I have in my life.
Tonight however, the glimmer of keeping up with the clean streak just looks like it will fall into the darkness.
Brendon has been coughing for the past ten minutes and nothing seems to be coming out. It's like he's choking on an invisible bone.
I turn on my side to look at him struggling to cough up anything at all. He goes into the bathroom. I take a hold of my shoulder just to bring myself in. I wish I could curl up into a ball. And then... I see blood.
'Because every little thing... is gonna be alright.'
I snap. Completely.
I run into the other bathroom, lock the door, and look in the mirror. My eyes are almost bloodshot, I'm shaking... I need that release. Now.
I look frantically for anything sharp, of course Brendon took the knife.
In one of the cabinets I find scissors. I take a deep breath. I don't hesitate.
One quick slice and it's all better.
It's numb and open. Red. We're both extruding blood. It feels right... this can't escape me. Breathing, bleeding, dying... together. This is what I need and I have to be more careful. This will make me more calm and collected... for the both of us.