Slow Conversations with a Gun

Me and Tony walked in the class to see Jaime. Just sitting there looking like a lost puppy.
"Aww Jaime, what's wrong?" asked Tony when we made it to our table in the back.
"Nothin, didn't have the best sleep, it makes me real thinky," he replied not looking at me.
"Oh yeah? What'd you think about?" I asked, to join the conversation and not be lonely.He didn't look at me, it didn't bother me but I did kinda wonder why he didn't.
"Yeah, what do Jaimes think about?" Tony laughed.
"Oh...ya know, random stuff like; if dogs realize they're dogs, or if eyes had butts...or why pretty girls self harm."
My eyes grew wider, and Jaime turned to me in a dramatic way. I was the one who wasn't looking now.
"Nope, nope, Blane, look at me." I heard him say, I slowly looked at him and Tony(who looked totally confused),"Blane, it's okay."
"How the fuck did you know?" I asked quietly.
"Well, yesterday when I went to use your bathroom, I found a razor on your counter next to the sink. And it didn't look like the one you shave with."
"Jaime-"
"Blane it's okay, but just promise me you won't do it again."
"Jaime, I can't. I'm sorry."
"Why can't you just stop."
"Dude," Tony interrupted,"You can't just stop. It's not something that you can just stop, it's an addiction. It's like drugs and alcohol, it hurts you but it makes you feel better. "
I looked at Tony, but he was just scribbling in his sketchbook. The only thing going through my head was how he knew that, but there's only one way to know that. Why Jaime? Why'd you bring this up now?
"Soooooo," I started to break the dead silence that was beginning to form,"Vic tells me you guys are in a band." Jaime began to ramble on and on about it and while I was trying to catch up to him, me and Tony make brief eye-contact; both of us knowing that this isn't over.

~After class~

"Umm,Tony..,"I started as Jaime ran up to this other really tall dude,"should I ask how you knew that stuff."
He looked at me with lazy eyes,"You know how I know that stuff. If you wanna ask just ask."
"Okay, you used to cut?"
"Nope, I bruised myself. The only reason I stopped was because my mom saw a huge bruise on my forearm and asked me who did it. I wasn't gonna lie, I couldn't lie to my mom. So I didn't answer and she just promised me not to do it again."
I looked at him and wondered how he could ever have negative feelings about himself,"How long ago was this?"
"About a two years. I was just..really depressed when my dad left and I thought it was my fault. All the time."
"How did you do it? You didn't just stop, how else did you cope?"
He held out his wrist and pulled off one his rubberband and gave it to me.
"Rubberbands."
"How exactly.."
"You just wear it, and whenever you feel the need to cut, just pop it. It doesn't leave a scar or anything."
I put it on, and zoned out thinking about me recovering. Not leaving scars on my body whenever I look in the mirror. Tony nudged me showing that he was off to his next class.
"Thanks!!" I yelled at him before he went through the door.