another revealed truth

smeared

trigger warnings listed in opening author's note

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the blood pools out of the back of his wrist from the three cuts he had just dragged out. it beads slightly in spots where he had applied more pressure, and the brunette can't resist the urge to bring his free hand over and rub his thumb over the cut. the blood smears, becoming even for a mere moment before the deeper bits start to pool once more.

the sound of the apartment door brings him out of the trance he'd been lost in, forcing his gaze away from the blood as he looks back at the bathroom door, listening for movement.

the brunette can't hear much, but still begins the quick process of cleaning himself up before he has to inevitably see his roommate.

he picks up the blade with his un-injured arm and switches on the tap, holding the shining silver under the stream as if that is adequate cleaning. karl looks back at his other wrist in the meantime, watching the blood once more, and uses his upper arm to wipe a few leftover tears from his cheeks.

he hates crying, probably because it was always used against him as a child, labelled as a weakness, and he's never really grown out of that mentality. still, that isn't enough to stop him from crying a lot - he's only human, after all.

karl shoves the blade into his hoodie pocket, not caring about getting the material slightly damp, and then leans down slightly to hold his wrist under the water instead. it stings slightly, as the fast stream splashes down against the surface of his cuts, but it's significantly quicker than actually cleaning them so he doesn't mind too much.

"karl?"

he flips off the tap, reaching up to open their bathroom cabinet as he shouts back, "one moment."

the brunette misses the underlying negative tone in his roommate's voice, too focused on trying to wrap a bandage around his wrist using one hand without wasting any. they're nearly out, and karl makes a mental note to buy some more - bandaids too, they're easier.

george says nothing more, so karl is able to focus better as he ties the bandage on the inside of his wrist, not wanting the knot over the cuts. there is excess bandage, but their bathroom doesn't have any scissors so he just leaves it dangling and decides he'll cut it when he gets back in his room.

karl moves over towards their bathroom door, because they hang their towels there and he hopes that george will hear and assume he's drying his hands. rather, karl pulls down his hoodie sleeve over his newly-injured wrist, pointedly ignoring the stains of red that seep through the bandage material. he tucks the excess bandage under the black hoodie sleeve so it wouldn't be seen before actually drying off his hands and going to open the bathroom door.

karl isn't apathetic to self-harm like many people often say they are. he still gets emotional when it happens, and he often has moments where he craves to give it up or breaks down over the sight of his arms. he hates to think about his future, and how the scars will be there forever, but he just can't stop.

he would like to say that he's tried to stop, but he's never even gotten as far as disposing of his blades, so he supposes that's a lie.

he steps out of the bathroom and looks over to the sound in the kitchen, where his gaze finds george. karl instinctively tugs his sleeves down as he heads towards his best friend before shoving one hand into his hoodie pocket so he could hold the blade and ensure it wouldn't fall out. he fiddles it mindlessly between his fingers.