I stared at the safety pin lanced through my flesh, just letting the image sink in. It still surprised me a little that it didn't hurt, although admittedly it wasn't held by much; just a bit of skin on my inner arm, a little below the wrist. The skin all around it had turned red, more from the force I had used to push it through than the actual hole. It hadn't bled. I was a little disappointed.

Still. I'd kept my promise to Tom. After the incident in the shower he'd made me swear not to hurt myself. 'Hurt' had been left vaguely defined--I'd taken it upon myself to interpret what it constituted. I'd already decided that wrist-banging didn't count, unless it left a bruise. If it didn't bruise, bleed or break, it didn't count. Of course, I didn't share these new rules with Tom. I doubted he'd approve. But hey, it was a lot easier for me to stay clean this way, and staying clean made Tom happy, and Tom being happy made /me/ happy. So it was all good. We were all so god damn happy we could power a fucking carnival.

The handle on the bathroom door rattled, then began to turn. Surprised and panicked, I pushed desperately at the safety pin, trying to get the damn thing to unlatch. After three or four attempts it finally popped open and I all but tore it from my arm, just as Mark hit the light.

He froze in surprise when he saw me, hand still on the light switch. It should have been my cue to run, but the light had startled me, leaving me blinking stupidly at him in the middle of the bathroom, arm bared, safety pin still in hand. Maybe I could convince him I had a sudden urge to give myself another eyebrow ring.

"Travis." It was a little amazing how much he conveyed in those two short syllables. Concern, anger, disappointment, fear--it was all mixed together, shining in his eyes, whispered in my name. His eyes flicked to my wrist, the new wound showing brighter against the patchwork of old scars, and the anger in his gaze melted into pity. I looked away, then, disgusted and humiliated by the reaction. I dropped my arms to my sides and tried to push past him, gaze firmly locked on the floor, but his hand on my upper arm stopped me. Fuck. We were going to have a Talk.

"Travis..." I kept my eyes on the floor. Don't look at him, my mind said, and it'll be okay. You can lie through your teeth, just /don't look up.../

"Travis." The hesitation was gone from his voice; it was a tone that demanded an answer. Gritting my teeth, I lifted my head, meeting his glittering blue gaze. Fuck. That did me in. I could feel the excuses slip away. Whatever it was about those brilliant sky-blue eyes that made girls swoon was the same thing that made it impossible for me to lie to him.

"I just...I got lonely," I said, my voice barely a whisper. Where Tom would have immediately started to question me, Mark just nodded slightly, waiting for me to continue. I almost wished it had been Tom that found me instead. Almost.

"I woke up and I...I couldn't feel anything. I just felt hollow. Dead. I was laying in his arms, and I felt dead." My voice cracked a little near the end, a clear sign that I was near tears. Mark just stood there quietly; waiting, understanding. I covered my face with one hand and leaned against him, and his arms wrapped around my shoulders, warm and comforting. I took a slow, shuddering breath and then another one, but I didn't cry. I couldn't. After a few moments I pulled away.

"Don't tell him," I murmured, my gaze averted guiltily. In front of me, I heard his quiet sigh.

"I won't," he replied, the first thing he'd said tonight, besides my name. I nodded, and he moved into the bathroom, the door closing without latching behind him. Just in case I needed him again. Just in case I wasn't alright. I turned, sighing silently, and went back to my room.

Tom murmured in his sleep and rolled closer to me as I slipped into the bed we shared. The sheets on my side had already gone cold. I crawled into his arms and wrapped him around me like a blanket, limbs tangling. He mumbled something incoherent again and I closed my eyes, relaxing to the rhythm of his breathing. Warm and feeling oddly safe, I slept.