MCYT one-shots cuz I can't find any poly ships that include Scott Smajor

I'm Fine (Liar)

!WARNING!

Themes of cutting, knives, biting oneself, and general self harm.

Major Angst.

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Scott stared down at the ground, his arms trembling as he held a knife in his hand.

'Just do it. Get it over with. You wanted to do this, didn't you?'

But Scott couldn't bring himself to. He couldn't get his limbs to move, to puncture and ruin the beautiful, unmarked skin of his thighs.

He sighed, bad thoughts clouding his mind, and slowly ran the blade over the side of his thigh.

Nothing happened.

He was confused.

Wasn't there supposed to be blood? Was the knife not sharp enough? Was he doing this wrong?

Why hadn't the blade broken the skin?

'Harder. You're not doing it hard enough, not applying enough pressure.'

Yes, that was it.

He applied more pressure, feeling a small sting of pain.

Still.

Nothing.

Nothing but a barely visible red mark.

No blood.

The cyanette sighed, starting to slowly 'saw' at his thigh. It hurt, he knew that much.

Why was he doing this? He'd forgotten. But, when his upsetting mind triggered his... bad responses, he listened.

'Bite. Bite your arm. Bite your wrist. Then continue cutting.'

Scott bit the skin of his wrist and didn't let go. His heart hurt as the pain came, but he ignored it.

He pulled back and examined the mark he'd made.

Red, indented, teeth marks on his skin.

It was perfect.

He traced the mark, no smile on his face, and bit down again.

As Scott bit, he felt his teeth brush against a vain through the skin.

He bit down harder than before.

'Yes. Perfect. Good job.'

He ignored the bad feeling in his stomach, focusing on the pain instead.

He pulled back again.

Deeper mark. This would stay around for at least a day or two. Well, no short sleeves for him.

'The knife. Try it again.'

He traced it once more before picking up the knife again.

He drew his knife across his thigh again.

The pain made him high.

He wasn't bleeding yet; hadn't even cut though the skin, but it still gave him a rush.

Then, he saw a spot.

The skin was starting to break.

He picked at it with the tip of the small knife, drawing more pain.

Then, his thoughts distracted him.

'Put it in your mouth.'

So he did, holding onto the blade with his teeth.

No marks.

He held it up to his stomach and didn't know why.

He put it back down.

That was enough.

No blood was drawn... but he'd get there someday.

Scott picked up the knife and stood up, walking out of his bedroom to go put it back in the kitchen.

The only traces of his deeds were the rapidly fading bite mark on his wrist and the faint, thin red marks on his thigh, which was now covered by pants. Those were sure to fade as well... right?

When he walked into the kitchen, he saw Owen.

Oh no.

"Scott, why do you have a knife?" The Llama boy asked, giving Scott a concerned look.

Scott froze, trying to think of something. "I, uh, just..."

Owen gave his friend a stern look. "Scott... are you alright?"

He chuckled, nervously. "Yeah! I'm.. I'm fine. What made you think I wasn't? I'm fine."

The Llama boy frowned. "Liar. I think you're a liar."

"No! Why would I lie to you?"

Owen walked over to Scott and grabbed his wrist, peering at the bite mark.

"Scott..."

The cyanette sighed. "It's... not what it looks like. I was in some pain and needed something to bite onto."

Owen gave him a suspicious look. "I still think you're lying, but fine." And he walked out of the kitchen, leaving Scott to put the knife away.

'A liar.'