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Bleed it out. Bleed it out. Bleed it out. Bleed it out.
The mantra follows him all the way upstairs and into his bedroom. It follows him under the bed to the old shoebox he holds his pocket knife in. It follows him through the familiar motions of pulling up his sleeve and slicing through the skin.
Bleed it out.
He doesn't know exactly when it started, but the thin, pale lines littering his arms tells the story of years and years of bleeding, bleeding, bleeding, and willing his pain to bleed out with it.
It works, for a moment. Blood drips slow and thin from his new line. He presses down on it, biting the inside of his cheek to brace himself, and finds himself suddenly calmer. When he lets go, the rage and fear and all-consuming agony has left him. At least, for a minute. It'll return - it always returns - but for now, he can breathe. This pain takes precedence.
He cleans the wound, sure to put antibacterial cream on it to keep it from being infected, wraps it, and wipes off his knife before putting it back in its box.
When he goes back downstairs, he'll have to start the process all over again, but for now, he lets himself breathe.
*
Sal isn't particularly good with arts and crafts, not really, but that's never stopped him from having a good time.
He carefully weaves the pink string around the blue and purple ones - a pink one because it's Travis' favorite color, a blue one to represent Sal, and a purple one because it would make a nice gradient.
This friendship bracelet is going to be amazing, he thinks confidently. He's going to love it.
Larry, Ash, Todd, and Chug are all wearing theirs already, each with colors Sal feels represents them and their friendship, and now he's excited to be giving Travis one too. Before he moved to Nockfell, Sal never had friends to give a friendship bracelet to. Now he has so many. Travis admitted to him when they first grew close that he'd never had anyone either - until Sal came along and brightened his life.
He'd said those exact words: you brightened my life. It's enough to make a million butterflies bloom to life inside him, even just thinking about it.
Feeling giddy, Sal ties the end of the bracelet with a strong, simple knot. When he holds it up, he grins. It looks fantastic; a braid of three colors ready to be tied on Travis' wrist.
He looks up, biting the inside of his cheek. "Okay, now you can look." He quickly hides the bracelet behind his back.
Travis gives a dramatic sigh from his place on Sal's bed, but when he climbs down to sit next to Sal on the floor, he's smiling. His dark eyes seem to sparkle when they meet Sal's, his smile growing at the same time Sal's does.
"What did you make?" he asks. His voice is so gentle when they're alone. "It must be important, since it was secret. " He pokes Sal's side and Sal laughs, batting his hand away.
"It is important! Because I made... something… for you!" Sal lifts the bracelet in pride, hanging it from his thumb and forefinger. "Ta-daa! It's a friendship bracelet. The pink is you, the blue is me, and the purple is us."
His tawny face growing rougey, Travis laughs, a sound of delight more than amusement. "Why am I pink? It's your favorite color."
"It's yours too! You told me that once in secret and I never forgot it. And I made my color blue so it could be like I used a lock of my hair. Just to be creepy."
That makes Travis laugh again, this time with more snorting. "That's so weird! Weirdo. I- um. I really like it. Thanks." He holds his hand out, palm up for Sal to drop it.
"Nope! No way. Pull those thumbs out of those scissor holes, 'cuz I'm comin' in hot!"
Sal reaches out for Travis' hand, but Travis clenches his fist and pulls away. When Sal looks up, anxious lines have appeared around Travis' eyes and he looks-
"Oh, I'm sorry," Sal says. He puts his hands in his lap, careful to keep them in Travis' sight. "I didn't mean to be pushy. I know touch is hard for you."
"That- That's okay. Just- I can put the bracelet on myself. Thank you, Sal."
"Actually..." He sucks what remains of his upper lip into mouth, thinking. "I know it's silly, but- it would mean a lot if I could put this on you. I've never given friendship bracelets to friends before, so I want to be able to give it to you all the way. It's okay if you can't-"
"I'm sorry, it's just-" Travis swallows hard, flinching at his own interruption. "Pinky promise?"
Sal's eyes widen in shock. After a long and intimate conversation, pinky promise became their code for please, don't make a big deal out of an injury I have.
"Yeah. Pinky promise." But he can't quite keep the loving sympathy out of his voice, or the honest concern.
Travis rolls up his left sleeve.
Oh, God.
"Oh, God. Are these new?" He rises up on his knees, fingers shaking against Travis' arm. Travis freezes like a deer in headlights. "God. Are these-? Travis, have you been hurting yourself?"
His eyes are wide and panicked, like an animal cornered by a predator. "Um- No."
"Don't tell me 'no'! There's still blood here! Oh, God, there's blood! Oh, Travis…"
"You- You said pinky promise!"
"Pinky promise was about shit your dad did to you!" Sal grabs hold of Travis' elbow firmly before he can pull away. "Oh my God, there's so many." Before he can process it, his eyes fill with tears. "Do you think you have to do this to yourself?"
Travis yanks on his arm, but Sal won't let go. "No- I mean. It's more complicated than that. Let me the fuck go!"
"Not until I know you're okay!"
That wild animal look is shot his way again. Travis looks pale and his eyes are shiny. "Listen. I'm not crazy."
"I literally take medication for being crazy. Skip the foreplay."
It isn't funny, but Travis breathes a surprised, raspy laugh. "Yeah, okay. It's just- It hurts so bad sometimes. Everything. I try to do other things like write in my journal you gave me or like, go outside and kick a tree and shit, but- Fuck! Nothing else helps."
"Helps?"
"When I hurt on the outside, I can stop focusing on the other shit. The scary shit."
Sal blinks. Then he blinks again, his body relaxing as he looks back down at Travis' arm. There are white and pink and red lines, some years old and some months. Then there's a bloody bandage covering the skin between his wrist and his elbow.
Recent. Recent enough to still be bleeding.
It terrifies Sal.
"What can I do?" he asks. This is a question he frequently asks Travis - and one Travis has begun to quietly ask him in return.
Travis closes his eyes. His head is hung low, chin tucked to his chest. "Nothing."
"There's always something."
"No. The pain won't go anywhere unless I bleed it out."
"But-" Sal looks down again at all the little white lines, all the incisions this person he loves made trying to remove something that can't be taken out. "Travis, the pain doesn't go anywhere. You just bleed on top of it. You're still hurting."
"Shut up."
"Travis, please…" They meet eyes and Sal's heart breaks at the crushed look on his friend's face. "If this is about trying to cope with your pain, we can find a different way. Would you be willing to try with me?"
Travis doesn't say anything. He looks miserable.
Sal takes a deep breath. He doesn't want to stop touching Travis, but he needs to do this. Quickly, so he can't talk himself out of it, he removes his prosthetic.
"I- Sal-" Travis stares, wide-eyed. He doesn't look disgusted, just worried. "You…"
"...Me."
He looks more alive now at least, eyes caught on the dark lines of Sal's missing nose. That's always where eyes gravitate. "I… I've never seen you. I can see you." And then he smiles, bright and honest and so, so happy. "I see you!"
Sal could weep. "You do." He swallows the knot in his throat and grabs Travis' hand again. "I see you too. I care about you a lot and- and I want you to be okay. If you have to hurt yourself to be okay, then- then, God, be careful! But I need you to try something else for me."
Travis takes a deep breath. Then he nods. "Okay. Okay, I'll try."
"Thank you."
He leans forward and pulls Travis into a hug. Travis is unpracticed at hugging, his arms held awkwardly and shyly, but he holds Sal for all he's worth. And he's warm. Travis is always so warm.
Sal pulls away and does his best not to cry. "Okay. So, when I first got- this," He gestures vaguely to his face. "I didn't- I didn't cope well. Dad started drinking," he says it quietly, ashamed, and then sighs. "And I was suddenly motherless. I kept waiting for mom to come home, even though I'd seen her-" He swallows hard, teeth clenched in pain.
"I'm here."
"Thank you." He leans his head against Travis' shoulder. It's easier than looking him in the eye. "It was so hard. And I started- I don't know why, but I started to hurt myself. I'd put my hand on a hot stove or purposefully fall down the stairs… I have no idea what I was trying to do. Was I hoping my mom would come back? That my dad would see me and start being normal again? It's all so scary, looking back…"
The hand in his squeezes tightly. He sits back so he can smile at Travis.
"I care about you," he says. "A lot. Hurting yourself is- really, really dangerous. Even if you're careful…" He rubs at his good eye. "I saw a therapist as a child - still do - but when I finally told my therapist that I was hurting myself, he told me I had to stop instead. I had to look at what I was feeling and think of ways I could deal with those feelings instead of using them to hurt myself."
Travis' eyebrows crease in the middle. "What did you do?"
"Well, I didn't know what I was feeling back then, but when I get angry or miserable or I think I should just die-" Travis' hand clenches tightly around his. "-I try to listen to those feelings as if I'm my therapist. I pretend I'm in a weird leather armchair and the me that's having scary thoughts is across from me, telling me what he's feeling. And I think, how would I help someone else? I have to become my own therapist, sometimes my own friend."
Travis nods, looking thoughtful. His eyes are locked on their entwined hands. "So, I just have to imagine that someone else is talking about the pain. Like, you or Todd or someone, and do for me what I'd do for you guys?"
"Kind of, yeah." He rubs the back of his neck with his free hand. "It's not perfect, but it helps. And then one day, you get into the habit of not hurting yourself. So, here, let's practice! What are you feeling that makes you think you want to hurt yourself?"
"Um. Like I'm getting full of pain. Like- like a balloon full of too much air or something. I just get so blindingly pissed… or so horribly, horribly sad. And it hurts, so I want to get the pain out."
"So you do it to soothe your pain?"
"Yeah, kinda. Like ice on a bruise. Keep the swelling down."
"So, your pain is like an all-over bruise?"
"Yeah." He looks away. "But, I don't think I can use ice on this bruise."
"Why not? You can hold ice until the cold makes you drop it - kind of, like, a mini-self-harm. Still not great, but it could be beneficial and even help you wean yourself away from needing pain. Oh, or eat spicy food! The burning sensation will be louder than the pain."
Travis blinks. "Maybe that would help? I'd need something else though too, like, while I'd eat the spicy thing."
"Like what?"
"Um…" He thinks, running his thumb over Sal's skin in rhythmic circles. "Writing letters helps. I do it a lot still, where I'll write a letter to help me figure out what I'm feeling and then tear it up and- and have a cry."
"I'm proud of you… Okay, new pinky promise?"
Travis smiles. "What are the conditions?"
"Always read the fine print. Smart kid." He grins when Travis ducks his head, amused. "When it gets really hard and you can't imagine the pain going away unless you self harm, write a letter to me. You can tear it up or if you need me, give it to me the next time you see me. That way, I'll always be there for you, even when we're apart. Oh!"
Travis' eyes widen as Sal pulls away and pats around on the rough old carpet until he finds his treasure.
"There we go." He holds the bracelet out to Travis. "That's what this is for! So you can always look at it and think Sal Fisher loves me."
As if on command, Travis begins to weep.
It's a loud, awful, gut-wrenching cry, and Sal thinks it's a cry he's been holding inside for a long time. Or, judging by the shock and shape of it, a cry he's never had before. There's a different kind of weeping that comes with being loved for the first time than comes with being in pain.
When Larry first saw him without his mask on, he cried that much-needed, "I am worthy of love" cry. He can remember it still, the way it shook him. It felt so clean, like being bathed in love.
Now he gets to be Travis' Larry. He gets to be that first cry, that first friend, that first I see you. And maybe, if all their brushed hands and shared smiles have meant what he hopes they've meant, something on top of that too.
Sal holds Travis all through his crying. And he'll hold him after, for as long as Travis needs him to.
Things are hard now, but Sal knows from experience: things are going to be okay.