Psycho Killer

Take 7: Skin Peeling & Honesty Speaking

Kip's POV:

The last time I showered in my clothes was when I was seven or eight. The classic I don't want to have a shower gig. My mother told me to have a shower or else she'd... I actually can't remember. I went in, dressed from head to toe and sat, drowning myself in layers just because I thought I was clever.

Now I don't think I'm clever, I know I'm not clever. Yet here I am, still sitting under a shower in my clothes. At first, I watched from afar, only going over to check the temperature wasn't too hot and reassure Olivier I was there.

That was until he began scratching. He was doing his best to peel off his already sensitive skin. I couldn't sit and watch. I rushed over to him.

"Hey, Hendriks. Hendriks. Come on. It's alright, they're gone." I pulled his hands away from his body. "Hendriks, please, stop that. Olivier, talk to me."
"I can still feel them, Kip." He whispers, lips dripping with the water he wasn't bothered to keep away from his air supply. The scratching worsened. His nails were leaving long scratch marks, blood mixing in with the water. I gave up on my tactic. Instead, I adjusted the shower and sat behind him, a leg on either side of his body. Grabbing his wrists, I made sure his hands held my forearms and forced him to lie against my chest.

"You made that comment about my being a class clown earlier," I say as he fights against me. He is stronger than me in every sense of the word, but I wouldn't let him do this to himself. "And I know what you're actually looking for in asking that is who I am." He still fought me but there's a slight hesitation.

"I overcompensate a lot because I love making people laugh, even if it's for two seconds. So, if I can do that for three or four people by being the funny guy all the time, then what's the harm?" He stopped trying to free his hands and instead grasped onto my arms tightly.

"Enid knows who I really am, and when I need to, I'm that person with her, but I'm so sure in our friendship that I know I can be whoever I want to be. She's just like me really, in her own strange way." It wasn't just my words causing him to give up, but rather I'm certain the sheer exhaustion resulted from panic.

"I was manipulated and fucked around by Kyong when I briefly saw him behind closed doors, who practically used me as a blow-up doll. There isn't a day that goes by since the night Enid me from my own destructive cycle that I don't want to die because of it." I grow louder as he puts in his last effort to be free of my grip.

"I wasn't ready to be gay to everyone at the college, the world or anyone at all that wasn't Enid. It wasn't a big deal to me because people don't care, but I had to do it in a way that took the spotlight from some to whom it was a big deal because I know exactly how it feels to have a realization about yourself. It's so daunting like the entire world is sucking you into its core." He finally started to actually listen, turning limp against my body.

"And I have this massive fucking crush on this guy, but I don't think he's gay or Bi or Pan or into me in the slightest, and I think that very fact alone could destroy the concept of music for me forever. When I'm around him, I'm this blushing, gushing, awkward mess who is still trying to be cool and funny, but I don't think it comes across."
...

...

...

Now we're both still, have been for fifteen minutes I believe, but my watch got water in it so I don't know. His breaths nearly line up with mine. My eyes are closed because I can't stand the thought of looking at him after everything I've just blurted out. Kip Cooper, you have the worst timing ever; I scold myself.

It's only when I feel movement that I open them. The white noise of running water stops as Olivier reaches up and turns off the tap. Now it's just our breaths, our thoughts, our heartbeats. He rests against me again. His hand slides from my forearm to my hand, taking it in his own. I know he can hear me swallow as he brings my palm to his face and places his lips at the base of my thumb. They stay there for a moment, pressing a kiss to my flesh.

And again, it is as it was before. Soon the cold is going to seep in through the door and we'll freeze if we stay here. Horror is in the eye of the beholder, the one repetitive phrase replaying in my head like a record. The thought of having to leave him at all, let alone long enough to get clothes and blankets for us both, is a horror that I behold.

Shaking, whether from him or the cold, I don't care. I take the moment to press my lips against his bare shoulder. Then I turn the shower back on and I leave, because that's what I have to do.