A/N: I am SO sorry for not updating, guys! Give me less than two weeks, and you'll have Chapter 17 of "As You Wish"...
This story is from Chapter 15, and documents the first time Blaine hurts himself. Trigger ahead, folks, be careful.
"Hey, watch it, fag!"
The water poured over his back, running in rivulets down his scrawny arms and right into the little cups his hands were making. He noticed the little scratch right in the middle of his right palm, from the torn middle nail. It was raised up a little, and the water made it throb; a small amount of pain, compared to what he heard that day at school.
"Look at the little fag, Blaine! Is he seriously wearing pink?"
Aaron had laughed at another 7th grader, a small boy named Patrick. He had transferred a few weeks before, at the end of the school year. He was more effeminate than any of the other guys, and it showed.
"I'm so glad I'm not a little girl like you, Patty. Go on and find another fag!"
His friend's laughter cut him to the core. He saw the tears in Patrick's eyes, but he couldn't bring himself to say or do anything; instead he stood there, frozen. He hoped that Aaron couldn't see the shock and fear in his eyes, and finally put the pieces together.
A shuddering sob ripped through his throat, and Blaine was grateful for having his own bathroom; hopefully no one would hear him.
Gay. Gay. Gay. Gay. Gay.
I'm... gay.
He could barely think the word, but he knew it was true. He didn't know if Patrick was gay, but he probably was. Blaine slammed his hand into the wall, frustrated with the thoughts that were racing through his mind, and winced when soap got into the scratch on his palm.
"It's just wrong, dude, you know?"
No, he didn't know. He had nodded along to whatever Aaron was saying, trying really hard not to react.
"Those gay kids, they're screwed up. It's sick, man, just sick."
He was sick. He was wrong. Blaine sank to the ground, holding his burning hand up and away from the water. He let the water fall over his head, let it run through his curly hair. He tucked his chin to his chest, letting more unwanted tears cascade down his face, keeping pace with the water from the showerhead.
Gay.
Blaine looked down at his hand, at the little line that hurt. He could feel the pain from that awful word (fag, you're a fag) seeping from that tiny line. He looked at the nail that had done it. He didn't know how he tore it, probably just from biting it, but still... It made just one little cut.
His breathing quickened, and he glanced at his thigh. The skin was pale, the tan line from his basketball shorts plainly visible. He could just do it there, one quick scratch, one quick...
Gay.
He closed his eyes, and held his middle nail over a patch of cream-colored skin. He kept his eyes closed, but gasped when he felt the pain shoot through his leg. His eyes shot open, and he stared at the long thin line that was now throbbing. It didn't hurt the way he thought it would, it was... pleasant. He didn't know if it was supposed to be like that, but he wanted to do it again.
Gay.
He sat for a while, just revelling in the feel of the dull ache.
Gay.
Not thinking, he did it again.
Gay.
It stung more, ached more. He had done it just a little harder, just a little deeper, and even though there wasn't any blood, he could feel it rushing to the surface, almost begging to be let out.
Gay.
Yes, he was gay. Yes, he knew his best friend thought it was sick. Yes, it hurt. But at that moment, the 12-year-old boy in the shower didn't care. He had just found the sweetest release.
For help, go to recoveryourlife . com