loved to draw. Whether he used charcoal, paint, pencil, pen, or finger paints, the activity set him free of the chaos in his mind. His emotions all flowed out of him without needing pain for a conduit. The art teacher said Cutter had potential, but he knew the guy was probably just trying to reinforce his expressing himself by something other than slicing himself up.
Every night at the beginning of visiting hours, Storm was always the first one through the door. They strolled through a garden area with trees, flowers, and a walking path. Cutter supposed the lovely surroundings were there to make the crazies feel better. They plopped down on what he considered their bench and surveyed the surroundings. In a way, being encompassed by such beauty only made his mood worse. He snapped the bands around his wrist, hoping the double shot of pain would help him concentrate.
Jumping at the noise, Storm asked, “What the fuck was that?” His eyes seemed to burn the lines of red left on Cutter’s wrist more than the double sting.
“Therapy.”
Storm stared down at Cutter’s wrist until he moved his arm out of the line of vision. He pulled down the long sleeves of his T-shirt so they covered past his wrists. He always covered his arms because they were an ugly mess of scars.
Storm’s long fingers combed back his shoulder-length black hair into a ponytail. “Looks like more self-abuse to me. Hey, put one of those in my hair.” The movement wafted Storm’s scent to Cutter’s nose. God, he smelled delectable enough to lick.
Wanting to deny his best friend but being unable to pass up a chance to play with Storm’s hair, he pulled out a small brush from his leather satchel. “Turn around.”
Obeying, Storm dropped his hands from his hair and scooted closer to sit patiently in front of Cutter. Cutter gathered the strands and carefully detangled the ends and the middle before finally releasing the hair. He drew the brush from the top of Storm’s head to the ends, repeating the process until Storm’s hair shone in the setting sun.
Leaning back against Cutter’s body, Storm turned as if to glance up, but only succeeded in nuzzling Cutter’s neck. Mm mm! Cutter went stiff in more ways than one.
Reaching for something to distract he asked, “How’s your brother?”
“Mm mm, Erick’s fine. Dad didn’t fire him yet so he must be doing something right.” Cutter just hoped playing by the McGrath rules didn’t drive the kid crazy.
Storm traced the rubber around Cutter’s wrist before plucking one of them lightly. “Make me a ponytail, Cut. Please.” The words caressed his neck as they were spoken, making Cutter quiver with the need he always carried too close to the surface.
He couldn’t stop himself from snaking both arms around Storm to pull him tight. He needed to get this over with in one go because if he stopped he wasn’t sure if he’d ever restart. “One of the things I’m supposed to do is find closure where I can. So that means you shut up and listen.”
“Proceed.” Storm relaxed more of his weight so he pressed back into Cutter.
Cutter cleared his throat before forging forward. “I’m sorry we couldn’t be more than friends. I know you said that the night we were together was a mistake and that’s fine. Shhhh, let me finish.” He tightened his arms around Storm so he didn’t try to escape from this conversation as he’d always done in the past. “You’re my best friend and you always will be.” Cutter inhaled and exhaled a little raggedly. He found the rubber bands and snapped them hard against his wrist. Ahhhhh, that’s a bit better.
“How’s that therapy?” The anger in Storm’s voice confused Cutter.
“Replacement of cutting.” The words hung between them. Cutter had never admitted what things made him cut. Now Storm only needed to watch for him to pluck the rubber to know what triggered his need.
Storm shifted and sat up. He put his hand on Cutter’s knee and squeezed.
Every night at the beginning of visiting hours, Storm was always the first one through the door. They strolled through a garden area with trees, flowers, and a walking path. Cutter supposed the lovely surroundings were there to make the crazies feel better. They plopped down on what he considered their bench and surveyed the surroundings. In a way, being encompassed by such beauty only made his mood worse. He snapped the bands around his wrist, hoping the double shot of pain would help him concentrate.
Jumping at the noise, Storm asked, “What the fuck was that?” His eyes seemed to burn the lines of red left on Cutter’s wrist more than the double sting.
“Therapy.”
Storm stared down at Cutter’s wrist until he moved his arm out of the line of vision. He pulled down the long sleeves of his T-shirt so they covered past his wrists. He always covered his arms because they were an ugly mess of scars.
Storm’s long fingers combed back his shoulder-length black hair into a ponytail. “Looks like more self-abuse to me. Hey, put one of those in my hair.” The movement wafted Storm’s scent to Cutter’s nose. God, he smelled delectable enough to lick.
Wanting to deny his best friend but being unable to pass up a chance to play with Storm’s hair, he pulled out a small brush from his leather satchel. “Turn around.”
Obeying, Storm dropped his hands from his hair and scooted closer to sit patiently in front of Cutter. Cutter gathered the strands and carefully detangled the ends and the middle before finally releasing the hair. He drew the brush from the top of Storm’s head to the ends, repeating the process until Storm’s hair shone in the setting sun.
Leaning back against Cutter’s body, Storm turned as if to glance up, but only succeeded in nuzzling Cutter’s neck. Mm mm! Cutter went stiff in more ways than one.
Reaching for something to distract he asked, “How’s your brother?”
“Mm mm, Erick’s fine. Dad didn’t fire him yet so he must be doing something right.” Cutter just hoped playing by the McGrath rules didn’t drive the kid crazy.
Storm traced the rubber around Cutter’s wrist before plucking one of them lightly. “Make me a ponytail, Cut. Please.” The words caressed his neck as they were spoken, making Cutter quiver with the need he always carried too close to the surface.
He couldn’t stop himself from snaking both arms around Storm to pull him tight. He needed to get this over with in one go because if he stopped he wasn’t sure if he’d ever restart. “One of the things I’m supposed to do is find closure where I can. So that means you shut up and listen.”
“Proceed.” Storm relaxed more of his weight so he pressed back into Cutter.
Cutter cleared his throat before forging forward. “I’m sorry we couldn’t be more than friends. I know you said that the night we were together was a mistake and that’s fine. Shhhh, let me finish.” He tightened his arms around Storm so he didn’t try to escape from this conversation as he’d always done in the past. “You’re my best friend and you always will be.” Cutter inhaled and exhaled a little raggedly. He found the rubber bands and snapped them hard against his wrist. Ahhhhh, that’s a bit better.
“How’s that therapy?” The anger in Storm’s voice confused Cutter.
“Replacement of cutting.” The words hung between them. Cutter had never admitted what things made him cut. Now Storm only needed to watch for him to pluck the rubber to know what triggered his need.
Storm shifted and sat up. He put his hand on Cutter’s knee and squeezed.
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