A Friday Night Like This (Kellic)

I Kissed The Scars

I saw Vic passed out in the bathtub, blood everywhere. My heart was pounding, I could feel it in my ears. Please let him be okay.

'VIC!' Please don't let him be dead. He stirred, and my heartbeat slowed down somewhat.

'Vic! You're okay! Well, not okay, but alive! I'm going to call an ambulance.' I grabbed my phone and hit 911. My thumb was hovering above "call" when a frail voice said,

'No. Kellin, please.' I looked down at Vic, his brown eyes searching mine. I stared into his warm, comforting orbs, finding child-like fright and distress in them. I locked my phone and sat by his side.

'What do you need?' I asked, taking his good arm and prying his fingers off of the blade. I rubbed circles into his palm, trying to soothe him. He pointed at the bag which was sitting on the counter. I cleaned his cuts, apologising every time he hissed or winced. I bandaged his arm and slowly pulled his bracelets over them.

'Go to bed, Vic.' I say, helping him out of the tub. I pulled his shirt and shorts off for him and took them to the laundry. I go back to the bathroom and clean the tub and the blade. As I do, my thoughts wander.

~~~ 

'Vic, what's this?' I ask. It's been a few weeks of Vic and I knowing each other. We're at his house, writing our collab. It would soon be King For A Day, but we didn't know it yet.

'What's what?' He asks, confused. He grabs another pencil and starts scribbling away. I read a few words as I reach for his arm.

"I take a look up at the sky"

'This,' I say. I flip his arm over, and point out a few red marks. 'Did you draw on yourself with Sharpie?'

'Oh that,' He says, tugging his arm back. 'It's nothing.' I immediately get a sense that this isn't nothing. He didn't confirm that it was Sharpie. We continue writing and I "accidentally" bump his arm - the same one with the marks. He clenches his teeth and hisses.

'What the fuck, Kellin?' He says, anger ruining his coffee-coloured spheres.

'I knew it wasn't nothing Vic. You can trust me.' I take his arm again and he watches warily as I lift his sleeve and remove his bracelets. I kiss his scars, and I can feel his smile.

'Stealing my lyrics, are we?'

'Not intentionally, but please, promise me Vic. Never again. I don't want you to hurt yourself.' I slipped his bracelets back on, and pulled down his sleeve.

'I can't make promises, but I'll try my hardest.' I felt my eyes narrow slightly, but I relaxed as I realised this was the best answer I was going to get.

'That's good enough. Back to song writing?' I suggest, picking up a pencil and placing it in his hand. 

~~~

I throw the blade away after cleaning it, and follow Vic to the bedroom. He's sleeping. He's lost a lot of blood. I don't really blame him. I get under the covers with him and hold him close, my arms wrapped around him. He makes a contented noise in his sleep and snuggles into me. I fall asleep listening to his uneven breathing.

- - -

I wake up, and Vic isn't in my arms anymore. There's a few drops of dry blood on the sheets, probably from where his cuts leaked through my sloppy bandaging.

'Look, I fucked up really badly. I can't do this anymore. I love him, but it's driving me mad.' I heard Vic talking on the phone, and I shot up and out of bed faster than you could say "Vic". I crept to the door. He was in the hallway.