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Huey hated when his thoughts would swim around confusedly, until his mind was a scattered mess. He hated when he wasn’t sure what to feel. He hated that numb, exhausted sensation that would flood him, body and mind, for no apparent reason.
It wasn’t as often as it used to be. And the intensity had died down immensely. But it still happened occasionally.
When his mind felt so muddled after the day, random useless thoughts popping up out of nowhere and keeping him awake, even though he was tired. And then one very specific thought that jumps out and blares and reverberates inside him suddenly without warning, and makes his fingers curl and wrists twitch.
I want to hurt myself.
Huey hadn’t touched a sharp thing in years. Hadn’t so much as looked at a knife like that in a long time. He still didn’t carry a pair of scissors in his backpack (for his own comfort), but he could cut paper with one without the thought ever crossing his mind.
Yet it blared through him suddenly.
He wanted to hurt himself.
He didn’t know why. Nothing had happened. Nothing... important...
It was stupid. The smallest things made him... He was being stupid. It wasn’t that big of a deal. He was fine. He was just being stupid. Oversensitive. Overreacting.
It didn’t go away though.
Huey was tempted to scratch his arms hard enough to leave a red line. His nails were dull, but if he scratched hard enough...
Huey didn’t. He almost did. He got as far as putting his fingernails on his arm before he hesitated and dropped his hand to his side.
The next thing he knew he was in the bathroom, sitting on the floor against the tub with a scissor in his hand. He didn’t use it. Just held it.
He just sat there, holding it.
After about three minutes, he got up and put the scissor back in the drawer where he found it, feeling... just a little proud of himself for putting it back. He could’ve used it. But he didn’t.
He was immediately tempted to grab the scissor back out.
He brushed his teeth instead. Couldn’t remember if he had in the first place anyway. It was stupid, but it was better than grabbing the scissor again.
Then he left the bathroom. He wasn’t really sure where he was going now. He got his answer when he ended up in Louie’s bed, gently shaking Louie’s shoulder to wake him.
Louie groaned tiredly. “Whaat?” he whined, glaring up at Huey, not appreciating his sleep being disturbed.
Huey didn’t know what to say for a moment.
Louie sat up, yawning. “Hugh?”
Huey gulped, tears in his eyes all of a sudden. Stupid, stupid, stupid... why’d he have to be so oversensitive?
“Huey?” Louie sounded worried now.
Huey sniffed, tears falling for absolutely no reason. “I put the scissor back,” he finally said.
Louie blinked sleepily, not quite alert yet. Then his eyes widened in fear and he quickly felt Huey’s wrists. Huey let him, feeling slightly more at ease with physical contact. Louie sighed a breath of relief when he discovered no injuries on Huey’s forearms.
Then Louie looked at him and wrapped an arm around him. “Stay,” he whispered gently.
Huey nodded. That was all he wanted to do.
So they laid down in Louie’s bed, Louie’s arm tucked around his older brother. And eventually, Huey fell asleep. (Louie stayed awake for a little longer just to make sure Huey wasn’t faking. When Huey started snoring quietly, Louie finally yawned and allowed himself to fall asleep too).