Bleachless

Laying in my bed, I took a look back on my life as an outcast. I guess there was some good in it, you avoided social gatherings and socializing in general. You also got a free pass out of the high school drama, for the most part. Mainly because you're in your own drama.

The drama of fighting yourself.

I know I say it isn't my choice, but it is my choice, I'm just too narrow-minded to get it through my thick skull. When you're narrow-minded, you're supposed to dislike opinions besides your own, and that's exactly what I'm doing...from my friends point of views. I don't like to call them anything besides my friends, because then I feel hurt and I resent myself. It's nonsensical, I know that much.

My friends were tucked in their drawers for the night as usual, and there they would be for the weekend, because I have no school, considering it's Friday. Turning on my side, I glanced at the red lit time on my clock. It was only eleven. Sometimes, just to protect myself, I go to bed quite early. Because if I get woozy, I kind of get stuck in my head, and let's just say I learned that the hard way.

Twenty-seven hard ways.

I guess I just feel worse when I'm weary. Basically, I got lost in my dark thoughts and woke up the next morning scarcely remembering the night before. I think I may have been intoxicated, I'm still not sure. I bled out, and it surprised me that I survived. The scars still remain, vaguely visible since it's been about two years since that memory. I still see them though.

I sat up, and kicked my blankets back before getting up and walking to my door which was slightly ajar. Peering out, I saw the lights downstairs were off, so I snuck down the stairs and into the kitchen, pouring myself some cold, refreshing water. I have insomnia on top of everything.

The stairs creaked slightly as I tip-toed back to my room. And what I saw surprised me. Well actually, a lot of things surprised me.

"Jesus fucking Christ," I swore, slapping a hand over my mouth after I said it. I shut the door hastily, then ran to the window and shut it, briefly pausing because it's so damn heavy and my fingers cramped. "What the hell are you doing here?" I whispered yelled at Kellin's faint figure standing before me.

"I was bored," He said purely.

"W-what? How did you get in here and how did you know which room is mine? Wait, how did you even know what house was mine?" I rambled, sitting down.

"I watched you walk home, and it was just a lucky guess on the room. I climbed your tree, which works very well," He chuckled.

"This isn't funny! If my mom or dad catches us they'll kill me!"

"You're killing yourself Vic," He replied abruptly, stopping me from a good come back. He was right. I am killing myself. "But it's okay, I am too." I slid off the bed, resting my head on the side of it, legs stretched out before me. He slid down next to me, grabbing my arm before I could complain.

My sleeve went up and I gasped as his hand ran over the recent and sore cuts. I tried to yank away from him, but his grip was firm.

"When was this one?" He asked, pointing to one in the center of my forearm.

"Today," I admitted. "In the bathroom, right before you entered."

"You know why I was down there?"

"No, why?"

"I was going to do the same thing," He said, letting go and rolling up his sleeve as well, revealing scars and cuts almost as bad as mine. When he sounded sympathetic, I thought it was a scam, but I guess not.

"Last night," He said, answering the question before it could leave my lips. "Where's your kit?"

"How do you know I have one?" I replied bluntly, pushing my sleeve back down.

"Because I can tell these cuts vary in deepness," He said softly, looking at me. I looked back, and boy did I wish I hadn't.

Kellin had big, innocent eyes, a vibrant green, with a ring of blue around his pupil. He then smiled at me.

"In the bedside drawer," I said, slowly drifting apart from his gaze. He reached over and opened the drawer, pulling out the wooden box and opened it, revealing the seven various blades.

"Nice," He said, pulling the doubles out, holding them up and examining them. Why was he so fascinated in this? I then tried small talk, but it ended up coming out wrong and sounded like I was trying to invade his personal privacy's.

"So...you have a girlfriend?" Dumb question Vic.

"Nope, I'm gay," he said as he looked back at me, a glint of amusement in his eyes. "You?"

"Uh..no, same as you..."

"You're gay?" He said as if it was the biggest surprise in the world.

"Uh, yeah." I blushed, I knew it. I blushed red.

And do you know why red? Because red is who I am.

I bleed red, I blush red, I am red. Everyone thinks red is the color of love and hearts, but it's not. Red is the color of death and blood, draining from the slits on your arms because this world is a shit hole. No one deserved to like the color red, unless you understood how horrible it really is.

"Cute," He said, obviously noticing the red patches on my dark toned cheeks.

"Shut up," I muttered, grabbing the box. I so desperately wanted to do this right now, but I couldn't with Kellin right here. Though, I don't think he'd mind.

"Can I ask you something?" He said after another minute of silence.

"Sure..."

"Can we be friends?" I looked over to him, surprised to see him looking back. Could we?

Kellin was the only person around me who understood my pain. We were the same, yet so different.

"Sure," I said, shortly after realizing that putting us together would make things much more dangerous. And I was right.

Kellin grabbed the box again and opened it, removing the double blades once again. He grabbed my arm and slid my sleeve up, then did the same to him.

"W-what are you doing?" I questioned.

"I can't put it off anymore, I assumed you couldn't either?" I nodded slowly. Is this what friends would do?

Slowly, his hand moved down and the blade slid across his wrist slowly. I watched, horrified yet amused. How could do this so easily? Easy, it wasn't him. And I wasn't me. I wasn't me as I repeated his action, looking at his gaze. Our eyes were glued to each others wounds, and it was itching me to ask what the cut was for, so I did.

"What was that one for?" He snapped out of the trance, looking up to me, and smiled.

"It was for you," He replied easily. And before I could even keep up with his words, he grabbed my arm again and pressed his wrist against mine. I looked down at the site, and this is what I saw.

I saw red. Red blood from two totally different human beings, adulterated together as one. Most would find the gruesome sight in front of them horrid, but I found it bittersweet. He pulled away, looking at his wrist now smeared with my blood. He laughed, and so did I.

"There ya go, I guess I'm contagious of you now," He joked. I smiled, gleaming for once in my life.

"I could say the same."

"Well...I gotta go now, I'll see you again," He said after a few moments, wiping off his arm with his sleeve, then walking to the window and opening it.

"Be careful!" I called after him, as if we were a couple. But we were far from a couple and there's no good reason for why I just thought about that.

"Yeah, yeah," He called to me, once he was in the tree. "Night." I sighed.

"Goodnight Kellin," I said, watching him walk off my lawn and onto the dark sidewalks.

Once the window was shut completely, I opened my door a bit, letting the hallway light in slightly, then crawled back into bed. My mind was cluttered with the memories of today. I've only known Kellin for not even twenty-four hours, and he already meant something to me. Funny how you can get connected to someone so fast.

But I shouldn't get attached to Kellin, because I knew not too far in the future, I wouldn't be here anymore.