Work Text:
He wasn't fucking careful. It was just another "saturday night thing", just something to take off the edge, just until he'll be able to actually face his own emotions head-on and not cut them out into his skin. But Joey doesn't even remember starting this time, doesn't remember when he snuck over to their shared bathroom and stole a razorblade from there, doesn't remember how he hid away in his bunk and started slicing again and again an-
Now he's covered in red. His thighs look like a cutting board and dread slowly pools in his stomach. They have a fucking show tomorrow and Joey just chopped up his legs and spilled his own insides all over his white sheets.
He has to clean up. Right fucking now.
Joey pulls himself up to his feet, hitting his head against the bunk and yelping into his hand in pain. He starts pulling his sheets off the bed, his hands shaking and his fingers not bending properly.
He can't let them fucking see. All of the ugly shit, all of the self-hatred and the "how and why are you still in this band" were supposed to stay behind closed curtains. He intended to let the blood leak just a bit. Just a little cleanse. But the demons wanted out and his blinding white sheets are now covered in proof of their existence and he can't breathe and he wants to cry. He wipes his eyes with the same sheets. He smells his own blood.
Joey stumbles away from the bed, finally managing to pull the sheets off. He's dizzy as hell, but he'll take care of that later. He walks, no, almost runs to the bathroom, ignoring the weird glance from Chris and Shawn who are discussing something in their kitchen and the "you okay, Joe?" from Jim who's sitting on one of the seats they re-made to be a couch.
He can't let them see.
Joey locks the door behind himself and starts frantically washing away the red. It leaks all over the sheets, dripping over the edge of the sink. Now his shirt is covered too, as well as the floor. Covered in his own sins, in his own disgustingly red liquid, covered in himself.
The soap isn't even helping and it smells like metal and Joey wants to cry. He thinks he's crying.
Yeah, he's definitely crying.