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"People are addicted to smoking cigarettes, in part, I believe, because of the power and necessity of that spiritual pause. When people smoke, they're getting in touch with their breathing. I'm not discounting the genuine addictiveness of nicotine, but in modern life, the physical act of smoking cigarettes is a ritual that often involves taking yourself out of a situation—work, dinner, whatever—standing outside and breathing in and out, over and over. That has value that stands apart from the sheer chemistry."
Serj had said it himself in his book, there was something about smoking cigarettes that made one calm down, that made one breathe and think.
However, there was something else that he found addicting in smoking cigarettes. Serj would burn himself with them to cope with overwhelming feelings and situations. He pressed the butt of the cigarette to his left shoulder (so the sleeve of his T-shirt would cover any marks left), wincing slightly at the burn. He withdrew it quickly, not wanting to leave too bad of an injury.
This habit of his had started around 2005, when issues with System of a Down arose and his mental state got worse. He would retreat from band practices for a quick smoke to calm his nerves, and would burn himself with his cigarette every time he wanted to scream, to cry, to hurt someone. Instead of taking out his anger on the band, Serj would take it out on himself instead. Now he was far past those years, but he still had the tendency to hurt himself whenever issues arose.
So there Serj was, sitting in a shitty hotel room, burning himself. He hadn't even took a shower after the show. He felt disgusting and pathetic, as he did back then. The guys knew Serj hated touring, that he only did it to make them happy. Still, there was barely a fight when this tour was scheduled, even though deep down Serj knew he would be back to burning himself when it began. He let out a sigh, pressing his cigarette to his shoulder.
As he pulled it away, there was a sharp, patterned knock on the door. Serj jolted at the sound, before his shoulders relaxed as he recognized the knocking pattern. "Give me a second," he said as he quickly put the cigarette out on himself, placing it in the ashtray on the nightstand. He rolled the sleeve of his T-shirt down, hastily making his way towards the door. Serj hoped Daron didn't notice how disheveled he looked, or how panicked he was feeling.
As the door swung open, Daron stood there awkwardly, but his eyes lit up as he saw the older man, a smile beginning to curve on his lips. "Hey, Serj. You feeling okay after the show?" Daron asked, letting himself into Serj's room. "Woah, smells like smoke in here," he said.
"Yeah, I'm doing fine." Serj closed the hotel door, sitting next to Daron. "And yeah, I was smoking a bit after the show. Helps with the stress and shit."
Daron simply nodded, his nose wrinkling a bit as he sniffed the room. "Smells like something's burning."
Serj froze, hoping the smell of his injuries wasn't too strong. "Well, you know, I was smoking..."
"I know what smoke smells like," Daron cut him off. "This just smells different..."
Serj pulled down his sleeve subconsciously, his heart beating faster. What would Daron think if he found him burning himself? He began to speak, his voice no longer carrying the same confidence as it did on stage. "It's probably just the hotel room. No reason to be so antsy about it, Daron."
As Daron saw Serj pulling down his sleeve, his hand shot up and grabbed the other man's wrist. "Why do you look so nervous? What are you doing that for?" Daron's hand tightened slightly, waiting for an answer.
And at that moment, Serj realized Daron had him. He pushed his friend away lightly, but firm enough for Daron to get that he didn't want him to find something out. He scooted himself down to the edge of the bed, avoiding Daron's eyes. Daron only inched closer, invading his personal space. "Serj, are you hiding something from me?" Daron asked, his voice accusatory but not harsh. "What's under your sleeves, man? You know you can talk to me about anything." He placed his hand over Serj's, gentler this time.
Serj's eyes looked everywhere but Daron's face. He sighed, knowing that Daron wouldn't drop this subject until he got answers. "I trust you," he said, finally meeting Daron's eyes.
"You can trust me," Daron affirmed, his hand slowly rising to grab the edge of Serj's sleeve. He tipped his head, almost asking for permission to lift it. Serj nodded, his other hand finding hold on the sheets for stability.
As he lifted Serj's sleeve, Daron's eyes widened. He silently observed the burns on Serj's arms, fresh, scabbed, scars and all. It made Serj feel exposed and vulnerable, like Daron's eyes were burning into him as well. He gently turned Serj's arm left and right, like he was documenting every detail in his mind, scrutinizing his burns. Those eyes then softened with understanding, and Daron gently lowered Serj's sleeve back down. "I'm sorry," Daron said gently. "I get it."
Serj cleared his throat, his voice cracking slightly. "Do you?"
Wordlessly, Daron stood up, unzipping his fly. Serj watched, horrified and stunned at the same time. "Daron—What the hell are you doing!?"
When Daron slipped his pants halfway down his thighs, Serj became even more shocked. His friend's thighs were covered in scars, a lot of them wide and long. They had definitely been deliberate, the skin light pink and dark purple on some. Daron had suffered with the same problems as him, and had kept it all to himself this whole time. He stared at an especially big scar around Daron’s upper thigh.
Daron pulled his pants up, not bothering to zip up the fly. “That one had to get stitches,” he said quietly. “A lot of them did.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Serj finally said, taking Daron’s hand in his.
“Well, why didn’t you tell me?” Daron countered, pointing to Serj’s shoulder at the burns that lay beneath.
Serj sighed, looking down and slouching. “I felt guilty after a while. But I could never quit it.” He took his hand off Daron’s, idly rubbing up and down his left shoulder.
Daron grabbed Serj’s hand, making him stop the motion. “When did you start?”
“Around 2005. After the release of Mezmerize.”
“Oh fuck, Serj. I’m sorry,” Daron apologized.
“It’s not your fault.”
“Feels like it. I’m your best friend, you know. I’m supposed to be there for you.”
“I didn’t want anyone’s concern.” Serj paused, looking at Daron. “When did you start doing… this?”
“As long as I can remember,” Daron admitted. “Before or around ‘98, I think. It was some sort of fucked up coping mechanism for me. I’ve been trying to quit, though. Decided I had to make a change for myself, because it made me feel worse.”
“How?”
“Fuck, I don’t know, playing the guitar, making music? I’ve also been trying to get myself out there more.” Daron motioned around them. “It’s still kind of hard for me to get used to new things, but it’s part of becoming a new person. Sometimes I mess up and cut again, but I haven’t relapsed in around a year.”
Serj looked at Daron, really looked at him. His introverted friend had been conquering his self-harm addiction by deciding he needed to take his life into his own hands. And that was the bravest thing he thought Daron had ever done. “That’s… damn, Daron.” Serj said, not being able to put his thoughts into words.
Daron nodded in understanding. “I think we should start a plan or some shit, to help you stop doing… that. Whenever you wanna burn, you just call me instead, okay? I’m always here for you, I swear it.”
“Daron, I don’t wanna be a bother, I’ll find some other way—”
“You’re never a bother, Serj. I know that if we were in swapped positions, you’d be searching my shit for any blades and confiscating them.” Daron said matter-of-factly, crossing his arms.
“…Okay, then. And you’ll be there?”
“I’ll try my best to.”
Serj could hear the sincerity in his words, and he felt a strong sense of gratitude that his dear friend would always be there for him. He put an arm around Daron’s shoulders, wincing as the burns on his shoulder stung. “You mean a lot to me, Daron.”
Daron wrapped Serj in a loose hug, being careful to avoid his shoulders. He patted him on the back lightly. “And you mean a lot to me too. Getting better and quitting addiction is really fucking hard, but I’ll be here for you if you need it.”
Serj smiled, resting his head on Daron. He looked up at the other with adoration, and knew that he had a friend who would never leave him, who would always be by his side if he ever needed it. It had been two decades that he had been keeping this secret locked deep inside his heart, but now he had the person he trusted most to help bear the weight with him. Daron understood what it was like to feel hurt, to need the feeling of being hurt. And maybe with their shared experiences, they could conquer this addiction together.