We've got scars on our future hearts (Jalex)

Chapter 1

Disclaimer: All self harm is valid self harm, all notions of 'real' self harm discussed in this fic come from a place of internal struggle.

Alex's POV

I flopped down on my bunk, exhausted from tonight's show- it was amazing, the crowd, the lights, I never get tired of it- looking out to the sea of smiling fans I'm always reminded how lucky I am to have made it like this. I couldn't ask for better band mates, the tour is going incredibly well, which is why it's just so hard to comprehend why I feel so down sometimes. It feels so selfish. There are people who have genuine problems who get up every day and get on with it and I'm sat here miserable for no good reason.

Pulling the curtain to my bunk closed I reach up to the little shelf and grab my sunglasses pouch, opening it and reaching into the little back pocket I sit and look at the small collection of blades. There's a couple I jimmied out of a pencil sharpener years ago and a new box cutter blade I brought the other week, I let out a tense breath as I pick it up and set it down on the duvet in front of me.

I struggled with self harm when I was younger, honestly I'm pretty sure with how the world is nowadays you'd be hard pushed to find someone that didn't at least think about it at that age. By younger I mean high school, your so-called glory days, even though it's only the privilege few who seem to get to actually enjoy it. It was never anything terrible- cat scratches really, yeah my thighs are absolutely riddled with scars but I can't remember ever cutting myself in a way that was any kind of impressive. 

It got better after high school, All Time Low kicked off and I didn't even think about it for a while, kind of just forgot it was ever a thing- every now and then things got a bit too stressful and I'd return to it but I'd knock it off within a few days. I'm an adult, this isn't the way adults deal with their problems, it felt embarrassing to do it, childish.

I don't even remember what brought it back this time- I was alone on the bus one evening, a rare occurrence, and I just did it. I wasn't even particularly sad or angry, the urge just came out of nowhere and overwhelmed my mind. I never got rid of the blades from high school, they sat unused in an old sunglasses pouch for some glasses I hadn't picked up since high school either, so it was just too easy to go back to my bunk and slice up my thighs. I know I should have thrown them out, or not brought them with me, but a little part of my brain kept telling me at some point I'll relapse again and need them, and I guess it was right.

It wasn't anything awful that time either, three shallow cuts at the top of my thigh, on the clean scar-free skin I hadn't touched in my high school days. The clean up process was so familiar it was almost comforting, wiping up the blood, sticking on a bandage, pulling up my skinny jeans trying not to let them drag against it. I sat back down in the front lounge all too aware of the pain on my right thigh as Jack and Rian walked in, all smiles from meeting some fans. I plastered on a smile too and pretended everything was fine.

After blankly staring at the blade in front of my for what feels like forever I let out another tense breath and pick it up, pressing the sharp corner into the pad of my thumb, trying to find a reason for wanting to do this tonight. I can hear the guys' voices faintly from the front lounge, laughing about something; I think to myself for a moment that I could just put this away, I could go out there and laugh and have fun, I don't have to do this, but almost immediately the overwhelming urges drown those thoughts out. 

I feel like I'm running on autopilot as I slip the blade into the back of my phone case, get out of my bunk and grab my towel from where it's hanging. Walking towards the front of the bus I crack open the door to the lounge, peeking my head around "Hey guys, I'm gonna hop in the shower real quick- was anyone waiting?" With only one shower on the bus and some venues not having any in the green room you can very quickly find yourself 5 deep in a queue to get clean after a show. My brain might be overrun with urges to slice my thighs open at the moment but I'm not about to be a queue-jumping asshole.