after all these years

Five

aha i felt like last chapter was,, a bit of a Mess and definitely didn't portray. The Topics very well, which is the exact Opposite of what i want to do here, and i'm truly sorry for that. i gave into the ~drama~ and ~angst~ of self-harm, and i didn't take enough time to properly depict it, which is Really Stinky Of Me. this chapter is mostly just an excuse for me to explain things a little better (hopefully), so aside from this, i won't be touching on the topic much more

"Hey, Earth to Mark!" Ethan's jab jerks him out of his thoughts, and he blinks up at the other man slowly. He can't quite remember what he was just thinking about, or what Ethan was trying to tell him, so he just stares, unsure of what to say.

"Are you good?" Ethan scratches the back of his neck - a nervous tic Mark's picked up on over the course of Unus Annus - and shifts his weight. He looks a little annoyed, but he hasn't said anything outright, so Mark decides to ignore it. He'll say something if it's truly bothering him. "You've been zoning out all day, man."

Instead of answering right away, Mark just shrugs. He's not okay - as evidenced by the soreness of his thighs - and he doesn't think he even has the energy to pretend like he is.

God, why did he do that?

"I - I'm just tired," he murmurs. The half-truth leaves a bitter taste on his tongue, but he can't just tell them about what he did that morning. They'd think he was crazy. (And maybe he was, but figuring that out wasn't even close to a priority right now.) It's not even a lie - he is tired - but it's certainly not the only reason he's a little slower today. So... no harm no foul?

Ethan looks him over, and before he can ask the inevitable "are you okay?" Mark cuts him off. "I stayed up pretty late last night." It's still not technically a lie, even if the words sit wrong in his mouth.

"Yeah, I can - I can see that." Ethan laughs, but there's still a pang of uncertainty there. A gentle nudge to test the waters. Mark forces out a laugh with him, and his friend softens. "Was mario kart just too addicting or something?"

"Just trying to get better than you, man. You know how it is." He playfully flexes his muscles, spinning around to show the camera. "Not that I'm not already better than you, but it doesn't hurt to practice."

"Sure, buddy, whatever you say." Ethan snorts, and pulls out a pair of scissors. The overhead light glints off the blade, and Mark sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth.

"What're those for?"

Amy facepalms at the same time as Ethan makes an absurd gurgling noise in the back of his throat. "For... the boxes? Right in front of you?" He gestures to said boxes pointedly, smiling in disbelief.

"Oh, shit, yeah." He grabs for the box closest to him, reaching for the scissors. "Sorry."

Ethan moves to hand him the scissors, but pulls them back at the last second. "Are you sure you're okay? You seem pretty spacey." Putting on a small smile for the video, he pulls the scissors back even farther. "I'm not sure I should trust you with these."

You really shouldn't, he wanted to say, but bites his tongue and grabs the scissors instead.

Honestly, he didn't even understand why he did it. It was a stupid late-night thought fueled by his anger and disgust at what had happened, but that didn't mean he needed to follow through with it. He was just - tired. Tired of feeling upset over something he couldn't control or change, and he needed to fix it.

But why hurt himself like that? When he had never even considered it that seriously before?

The cuts hadn't even hurt, really. Sure, they stung when he needed to clean them, but after a few seconds of pain nothing else happened. Wasn't that what people were addicted to? The pain?