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The vibration of the crowd's applause dimmed, fading away behind a black door, paint flaking off in chips leading into a hallway. It was poorly lit with those cheap yellow light bulbs which were placed a metre apart in their respective sockets. Adjoined by a musty scent of thick dust, it was expected for a club like this. But a show was a show, even if it was in the shadows of Gothenburg's high streets.
Kim's bloodied and sweat soaked skin prickled with nuisance, urging for his reaction to swat away at the upcoming goosebumps and the need to shower.
His eyes scuttled round in the darkened corridor and he pulled his body to the fire exit, which allowed for a swift escape.
Coldness from the night air engulfed Kim and rejuvenated his body, pulling him out of the frantic state of survival his body had spiralled into. At this moment,nothing mattered. He could hardly function in the wretched corporeal being, much less think straight. Kim's body irked, curling in on itself and tugging him down to rest against the pavement in a blackened blur. A gust of wind hit the young man’s naked body, making him shudder. His anxieties succumbed to their defeat and diminished, leaving Kim to mellow in their exit .
The pulsating of his heart weakened within his ear and was replaced by the distant rumbling of the city.
Coming back to his senses, The singer discovered that he didn't tumble to the floor but had instead subconsciously edged his way to perch on the wall of a raised flower bed. One that chilled his ass, the concrete having expelled by now any warm sunlight from the day prior.
"I was worried about you, y'know?"
Kim's head tilted up, recognising the rich murmur of his friend's voice amongst the inner blur of his anxious, threatened mind. His eyes met an unmasked Jonas’s, a separate entity from the one which had stood beside him on stage for the last hour. Words did not have a chance to formulate before the silence between them was broken again.
"You forgot to eat before the show again?"
The smaller man dipped his head down as an answer. He knew that wasn't what had happened. But as long as Jonas thought so, that took some weight off the singer's shoulders.
Kim knew he cut too deep and too many times prior to the concert, his mind was at trouble and the sensation of the pain was an effective source of energy he could feed from. On stage, he managed to obtain his weapon of choice, a hunting knife he acquired one summer at his grandparents house and carved it across his chest and arms. Kim had been caught up in the moment and didn't consider the outcome...up until he made his deepest cut yet. It pulled his attention back to reality as the skin on his stomach ruptured and blood pooled on the stage floor. But of course - he must not have eaten enough before the show.
Jonas sighed and sat down cross-legged at Kim's feet and began fiddling with an object in his hands that made a plastically rustle. Kim couldn't pinpoint what it was from sound alone but realized B was dressing his wounds once the man carefully held his forearm and began weaving the bandage across his open wounds.
This was not the first time the two found themselves in a similar situation like this after a show. They had always cared for each other, picking each other up when things went wrong and tending to each others self-destructive habits. But their extents were different. Kim believed he had surely overstepped some boundaries tonight.
First, it was the thrill of obtaining pain, seeing the blood run, the dopamine rush that most self-harmers can relate to.
Second, the pain sets in and sometimes it’s pleasurable, but there’s a sense of regret as it persists minutes to hours after the first slit.
Third, the guilt comes.
The guilt of hurting oneself.
The guilt of covering it up.
The guilt of going too deep.
The guilt of the results.
The guilt of hurting others.
Then the guilt to hurt more in response to hurting others.
And Kim wondered if he had hurt Jonas. He didn't have any suicidal tendencies but, as Kim thought more about his current state, it occurred to him that this time he may have done it for reasons beyond “just for fun”.
He opened his mouth to apologize but instead of words he laughed lightly. Jonas looked up in question as he knotted the bandage upon a wound. The man sitting at his feet was equally just a mess. Black smears of eyeliner or paint surrounded his eyes, it was clearly influenced by Slipknot's stage makeup under the masks but it made Jonas look like a friendly oversized badger.
Kim found it cute and that was something he wouldn't openly admit. Plus, Jonas had a girlfriend after all. She can have the privilege to make those kinds of statements first. It would be more honouring to hear it from a loved one than a friend.
Kim's lips stayed sealed as Jonas attended to the worst of his wounds on his body. The anxious rush that polluted his mind a few minutes ago had passed by, leaving his body tired and weak. All he wished for right now would be for the dull pain to halt and to cuddle up into bed to sleep without any need to wake back up.
"All done, think you can stand up? Jonas offered out his hand. He didn't expect any answer but was happily met with Kim's arm reaching out and latching onto the support.
The world spun in Kim's vision, tormenting him to back down and cave in towards the floor again. All of the energy that Kim regained diminished in an instant.
Lightly bumping into Jonas' chest, he manage to stabilize the balls of his feet to the pavement and obtain self-sufficiency, yet his hand tightens to cling to his friends.
Jonas smiled slightly at the smaller man,
"You look a mess. I'm taking you home."
Kim's forehead sulked, frowning at that statement. The others had planned to hang out after the concert, Jonas should be there with them. He shouldn't be out here caring for me, Kim thought.
It was his self-destructive habits and Carlsson believed that he should be the one held responsible. If he ended up passing out on a street bench, and bleed until his wounds coagulate up then he would take responsibility of that. Maybe use the experience as a way to self-punish through more cuts in the future; at that point it would be a never ending cycle. But here they were, just the two of them; Jonas didn't deserve this.
Reality kickstarted within Kim's brain again. He was in Gothenburg, Jonas wasn't taking him home. He was taking him to his home. The last train to Herrljunga probably left hours ago and Kim was in no shape or form to take his forest detour to get to his house within the rural plains of Western Sweden. What if Jonas’ girlfriend was there? He would be intruding more. His guilt and regret deepened as he followed in the footsteps of the larger man who took him away from the venue.
Luckily, the drunken crowd had died down and returned home. The streets were bare except the mere whistling of the wind drifting past. The emptiness made Kim shudder. The irony if he were to gain hypothermia in these situations, it would be a lifelong joke. Without a word, Jonas dismantled their hands apart and took off his black zipper hoodie , hanging it on top of Kim’s shoulders. The material was warm and soft, drenching his petite body. Slipping it on , it lightly skimmed and tugged at the smaller wounds with unease but continued to melt to Kim. It smelt like him and his JPS black cigarettes. It was comforting.