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Azul looked in the mirror. This was a common occurrence for the octomer. He was constantly checking the mirror, looking from the front, then the side, then front again. He felt pretty sometimes. He felt pretty until he saw a flash of his younger self in the mirror. Until he saw the octo-twerp he used to be.
He was alone in his room, wearing nothing but his undergarments. He poked and prodded at every piece of skin. His stomach, arms, thighs, cheeks. Suck in. Don’t breathe.
Azul looked at the fading scars on his thighs, feeling both disappointed and relieved at the fact they were leaving. He scratched at them sometimes, hoping to see the red seep out again. It doesn’t though.
He was perfectly able to march into Mostro Lounge and take something from the kitchen. Or he could walk into his bathroom and get his razor. But he promised. Said he’d stop. The twins would notice immediately anyway.
Idia, having experienced similar thoughts and actions of harm, offered his support. He told Azul he always wants to know if he has thoughts or if he does it again, but Azul didn’t know how to bring it up. How do you just go up to someone and tell them you did something wrong? It was embarrassing and weak. Azul was neither.
His fingers traced the scars, wishing to see them last for longer. Azul sometimes wished people would notice and say something, but just thinking about someone other than the twins and other close associates knowing made him sick. Embarrassing. Weak.
Almost in a daze, Azul walked into his bathroom, grabbing his razor. He went back to the full-length mirror facing his bed. He sat down, desperately fiddling with the thing. Through his sorrow and tears, he could hardly see what he was doing.
Stupid human hands couldn’t do anything. A weak sob left his lips, his vision blurring more and more through the foggy tears. He sank to the floor beside his bed, the razor forgotten in his hands as he sobbed.
There was still the other option of going to the Mostro Lounge kitchen, but Azul was just exhausted. He didn’t wanna break the promise he made with the twins anyway. They knew the longest and stuck with him the longest. It felt like a betrayal. It was a betrayal.
Azul jumped when he felt an arm wrap around his shoulder, another one taking the razor out of his hand. They sat there for a while, simply sitting next to him as he cried his heart out. He knew who was sitting next to him. No one would dare enter Azul’s room without his permission besides the twins.
He couldn’t see them, but he pictured them looking at him with expressions of pity. A wave of shame washed over him. The twins had seen him at his worst already, his overblot an embarrassing memory he wished could be replaced. This felt worse somehow. It was much more personal and intimate this way. By themselves in the silence of Azul’s room.
He felt hands help him stand, then a handkerchief dabbing his ever-falling tears away. He was being dressed in his pajamas and then dragged onto his bed, sandwiched in between two tall and lanky bodies.
Azul could faintly see, Jade was in front of him which meant Floyd was behind him. Jade was looking at him with a look of sadness. It was odd in a way. The twins were hard to read, even for Azul sometimes. Not even when he overblotted did he see such an expression on his face. He presumed a similar look was on Floyd’s face too, but he was simply just too tired to look.
Once he was asleep, Jade pressed a gentle kiss to Azul’s hair, Floyd doing the same but from behind. The identical pair shared a look over his head, but said nothing. Their gazes said enough.
When Azul woke up the next morning, everything sharp was gone, but the twins remained. The trio didn’t attend school or open the lounge that day.