Snuggling up in his blanket, Sal buried his face into his pillow. The porcelain of his prosthetic cut into the flesh of his neck, but he lacked the energy to care. The little metal square on his desk taunted him, and he hated it.
He bit his lip, hard. He craved the fucking thing so bad... But he remembered his best friend's disappointed face just then. A shudder marked a trail up Sally's spine.
He had promised. He wouldn't do it anymore, but oh-howdy-doody that rusty little shit was impossible to resist.
A pop of static startled him out of his thoughts. The walkie-talkie fizzed and hissed in his bedside drawer, calling his attention. He didn't bother to pick it up. It was just that kind of day. The kind that made even taking care of himself hard to do.
The device spat out a few more hissed and buzzed until, amongst the snow; "Fuck it!" And with that, the static stopped. He's probably just pissed Larry off, but everything was too numb for him to care. At the realization, he buried himself deeper into the blankets.
~❇~
Sally not answering was bad omen. Larry knew it. He was (self-proclaimed) sensitive to these sorts of things. However, admittedly usually proclaimed this while high.
He shook around the walkie-talkie as if that would make Sal magically want to answer. It didn't.
Truthfully, Larry had been worried all morning. But he didn't have the agallas to call Sal until now, who promptly did not answer.
The walkie-talkie finally freed itself from Larry's grip, and naturally, landed in his naked big toe. He screeched, pain turning into a sick pulsating. "FUCK IT!" He kicked the infernal thing across the room.
With a crazy look in his eyes, and holding his foot he hissed. "Sal, you better not be doing something stupid!"
~❇~
Sally rolled to the other side of his bed, pressing his back against the cold wall. He hugged his pillow tighter, curling up. An annoyed scratch at the door. Gizmo meowed, wanting to be let in. Sal simply tuned his mewls out in favor of letting a delicate, simple nothingness swallow him up.
He turned again, this time a quick flash of metal catching his eye. He sat up. He slid his hand slowly towards the blade. He picked it up, turning it in his hand. It was old, but it would have to do. The rust winked at him. He slipped his thumb down The blade, watching the skin part and blood trickle.
Maybe just this once. He could cover them up, right? He pressed The icy metal to his wrist, hesitating. It would be selfish. But... He wanted it so badly.
Damn the consequences to hell. He dug the blade into his skin.
~❇~
Larry bit his lip as he smashed the elevator button. As soon as the doors closed, he wished he had just run up the stairs, but that never resulted well. His nose was still crooked from last time. {*koffkoffshamelesscameo}
He bolted out of the elevator as soon as it came to a stop. He ran through the hallway, until he reached the Fishers' door. Not being in the best of shape, he huffed and puffed and coughed as he banged in the door.
"AYY YO, SAL!"
~❇~
Sally's head snapped up and he panicked. "Uh...Be right there!"
He scrambled to the bathroom and turned on the water, shoving his wrist under it to wash away the blood. It wasn't clotting.
Sal cursed softly and grabbed a bandage wrap, twining it around his wrist as he made his way to the front door. He quickly and messily tucked it so it wouldn't unravel and pulled down his sleeves.
