All I'm Asking
“Warren?” Will called, hopping up the back stairs of his best friend’s apartment building. He and Warren had hung out a lot more lately, and yesterday, Warren had accidently left one of his novels at Will’s place, so Will figured he might as well return it. Unlocking the front door with the key Warren had had made for him, Will headed inside. He didn’t think Warren was likely to be home, so he’d just drop the book and maybe a note in Warren’s room, and he’d see him tomorrow.
Humming to himself, he barreled in that herd-of-elephants way he had down the hall, throwing Warren’s door open.
And froze dead.
Warren wasn’t looking up, even though he was sure to have heard Will, both when he raced up the stairs, and when he slammed the door open. Instead, he continued at his ‘work’, the razor blade he held continuing its steady path over his skin, into his skin, blood pooling around it and dripping to the towel Warren had spread on his lap. Will could vaguely see designs carved in the skin through the blood, could see scar upon scar. The wrists were a messy map of scar tissue.
Will could only stare into the room, gaping. Perhaps had Warren stopped, or tried to hide what he was doing, Will would have been able to move, but right this way, it was... surreal. It couldn’t be real, not the way Warren was calmly slicing his own skin.
“Either come in or go, but shut the door, will you?” Warren said detachedly, like he wasn’t there, almost, like a recording.
Will shut the door, on automatic, really, then the full gravity of the situation sunk in, and he darted forward, ripping the blade out of Warren’s fingers, making the other look up at him at last. “What the hell are you doing?” he demanded, tightening his grip on the blade, to keep himself from just flinging it across the room.
“I’m not trying to kill myself, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Warren answered dryly, reaching down to pick up the corner of the towel on his lap, and wiping at his wrists, hissing slightly when the terrycloth caught in the open wounds.
“Then I’d like to know what you think you are doing, because it sure as hell looks like you’re trying to kill yourself!” Will yelled, up in his friend’s face.
“If I had been trying,” Warren said cooly, “we wouldn’t still be here. I’d actually be dead. I know what I’m doing, Stronghold.”
“Oh yeah?” Will swallowed thickly. “And what is that?”
“Trying to feel.”
“Trying to feel?” Will repeated, falling back on his butt so that he sat in front of Warren, staring at him in disbelief.
“Mm.” Warren nodded, still wiping at the blood.
“There... there are other ways to feel, W’ren,” Will said, slowly. He could distantly feel that the blood that had pooled on the razor was dripping down his fingers, but he didn’t move to get rid of it. “Why would you do this?”
“Hn.” Warren frowned, considering. “When I was little, my father.... my father was my hero. He was always so strong and brave, he could light anything on fire, and I loved watching him. Then when I was ten, there was an accident. He tried to save someone, but it turned out to be a trap. He lost control of his powers, and... he started burning too hot, too powerful. He burned down an entire city block... and everyone in it. Your father was forced to put him in prison. He was no supervillain, just a hero who lost control. I... my powers had manifested the summer before that. I could burn things. But when my father got put in prison because he lost control, and killed people....” Warren sighed. “I tried to cut the powers out of me. I can feel the fire in my veins, it’s always there. So I tried to cut it out.”
Will swallowed, reaching forward carefully. “W’ren...”
“It didn’t work,” Warren said, idly. “Ever. But by that point, I’d started to realize that the only time I ever felt anything was if I cut it into me.” He looked down at his wrist, which had finally stopped bleeding, and he’d managed to wipe the blood off. “You know I carved your name into here, once? I think you can still kind of see it. Thought maybe if I carved you into my skin, you’d notice I was there.”
“W’ren,” Will carefully set the razor blade aside, reaching forward to carefully hold his friend’s arm, avoiding the raw skin. “That... that isn’t healthy...”
“I wish I knew how to quit,” Warren said, wistfully, eyes still on his scars and cuts. “But I can feel it. I can’t feel much else. It’s solid. It connects me.” He glanced up at Will, the corner of his mouth quirking up. “It tells me I’m still alive, if I hurt.”
“There are better ways to tell yourself you’re alive!” Will insisted, squeezing Warren’s arm. Warren gasped, but didn’t flinch.
“Like what?” He demanded. “Zach does bigger and dumber things every time, jumping out of planes and cliff diving, to remind him he’s alive. That’s not healthy, but no one says anything. Ethan’s practically a slut, he sleeps with anyone that’ll have him, just so he can feel alive. Not healthy, but no one tells him not to. Magenta drinks, did you know that? Drinks more and more every night, to convince herself that she can still have fun, that she’s still living. She’s gonna get killed someday from that shit, but no one tells her not to! Layla joined that martial arts thing. She beats people up to prove she’s alive. Everyone cheers. You... you just take on every pathetic loser that comes your way, trying to fix them up. Someday someone’s gonna knife you or something, rob you blind, because you’re too nice, because it makes you feel alive to help people, and everyone applauds your humanitarian effort.” Warren snorted. “Yeah. Good. We’re all doing something not healthy, but I’m the one who needs help?”
Will swallowed. “Maybe we all need a little help. Maybe that’s the only real way to feel alive, W’ren. To have others remind us.”
“Maybe that works for you,” Warren grumbled.
“Maybe it doesn’t,” Will stroked Warren’s forearm idly with his thumb. “Maybe, W’ren, the only thing that will work is if we have someone depending on us.” He looked up into Warren’s dark eyes then, smiling slightly. “I have a deal for you. You stop doing this, and... and I’ll quit the shelter. I’ll find a different job.”
“You’ll still find ways to put yourself at risk,” Warren said softly.
“And you’ll still find ways to hurt yourself, I’m sure,” Will shrugged. “But someone has to take the first step, right? Look... why don’t you move in with me? Maybe we’re really just co-dependents who’re missing our dependents.”
Warren smiled, faintly. “What’ll you tell your friends? Your family?”
“Our friends, our families,” Will corrected, then shrugged. “Tell them we decided to stop playing pretend and start living officially in sin?”
Warren snorted. “Going to tell them all we’re dating, are you?”
“Why not?” Will smiled tightly. “I’ve wanted to for awhile. See what their reactions would be if we were. Test the water. Shake a few people up.”
The older boy swallowed, then nodded. “I’ll try.”
Will nodded, taking Warren’s hand in his and squeezing slightly. “All I’m asking.”
Go back to Sky High.