Before It's Too Late 2

Today Ryan and I went out to eat. In that time we made small talk, but don't blame me for looking at the black sleeves running down his arms. I say something funny and he just puts on a fake smile. Even though I know he dies behind that smile, I couldn't help but find him so beautiful. Before we leave I take his hand from across the table (not like anyone with respect would care) and trace circles on his palm. I say:
"I love you."
He says, "I love you too."
Sometimes I feel as though Ryan thinks I only tell him that to pass the time. I never just tell him I love him only to pass the time. I tell him because I am worried, scared, and nervous for him. Whenever I hear that voice in my head say: What if he dies tomorrow? I have to tell him I love him.
As soon as we get home we both head upstairs into our room. I shut the door behind me as I walk over to him. He's looking for something in the closet. He then tosses out a shirt onto the bed. When he turns around I'm standing there in front of him. I put my hand to the side of his face as I go in for a kiss. It's light and gentle, but Ryan's lips are a little more stiff than usual. I stop.
He says, "I'm going to change my shirt, be right back."
He walks into the bathroom with the gray short sleeve. My heart dies as he shuts the door behind him. You may be thinking: He's your boyfriend; does it really matter if he changes in front of you?
He's not changing, no, that was just an excuse for him to have privacy while he takes one of those small sharp gray blades and slices his already damaged skin. Something hits me way more than it should today, because if you haven't noticed, he just lied to me. When ever he goes and cuts he doesn't give the excuse to, he just goes and I don't ask questions. Him grabbing that shirt, not even wanting to kiss me at the moment, just screams "I'd rather cut myself, than spend a few moments embracing the one I love." I feel tears escape my eyes as I start to feel like he's more in love with his blade than me. This time, I don't just sit by the door and hear him express relief through pain. I walk up to that bathroom door and open it. He's sitting on the ground, without a shirt; those red scars running up his arms and even across his chest. He has that blade that he loves so much in his hand, but he doesn't move, doesn't speak, and his eyes raise to mine. He looked like a lost puppy that didn't know where to go, but he also looked like a thief caught red handed, already knowing it was too late too run. At this point, my heart was already crippled into a painful knot. He didn't put the blade down. I could see his thumb bleeding from the other end of the blade. At that point I could almost fathom how hard he was going to push that sharp relief into his arm. He looked away from me, still letting the blade dig into his fingers, while tears fell down his cheeks. I then walked around to the back of him and sat down. Our bodies connecting like a jigsaw puzzle, reminding me of going down a slide with someone. I pulled his back to my chest as I made my right hand grab his. I put my thumb on his palm and the rest of my fingers snaking around his hand. I could feel his muscles tightening and his body shake. I could hear him almost wheeze slightly as I knew he was crying harder now. The blood coming from his thumb trickled down his hand and as his crimson fell onto my hand.
I whisper in his ear, "Ryan baby is everything okay? You can talk to me, hun. Did something happen today? Was the food okay at the restaurant? Is anything troubling you? I'm all ears, sweetie. Talk to me and I'll help you." I firmly kissed the back of his neck as I massaged the palm of his hand. He let out a moan, but it was more of a whine.
"Baby, let it go." I whispered, even quieter now. His body wasn't shaking as hard anymore. God, I just wanted him to let go of the blade. Realizing how much of a challenge it really was scared me.
I placed my lips on the side of his neck and kissed, the only part of his skin that wasn't damaged, ever so softly. This was the one and only way to get him to relax. My other hand was now on his left arm as I traced out his scars with my index finger. He let out a light whine/moan as the fingers on his right hand shifted on the blade. Eventually he let it fall to the floor; a small clank coming from the impact. I removed my lips from his neck as I held that bloody damaged hand in mine.
"Bren- Brendon, I-I'm so sorry, I'm sorry. I'm sorry." He cried.
"It's okay Ryan, everything is gonna be okay." I said, even though I wasn't entirely sure.
I then get up, walk around and face him. I don't sit down. I take the blade off the ground and throw it in the trash. I then take his hands and help him to his feet slowly. Quickly, I grab a plain band-aid from out of the cabinet and wrap it around his thumb. I then kiss the top of the bandaged thumb and rub his hand.
"There all better." I give out a reassuring smile.
He then pulls his arm around me, I let go of his hand so both of them are now tightly grasping the back of my shirt. I put my arms around his naked torso and rub his back. He buries his head into the crook of my neck as I can feel the tears from his eyes soaking the lining of my shirt.
My right hand, still slightly covered in his blood, goes up to his hair. My fingers go through his short chestnut locks as I gently let out a, "Shhh baby, it's okay."
I let go of him as he lets go of me and we head out of the bathroom, hand in hand. I pull him to the bed, his damaged body hovering over mine. He kisses me instantly and this time I know he doesn't want to let go.
Ever since then I kept on trying to keep him away from anything sharp. Sometimes I have to hold him back, but right now he is two weeks clean, and I couldn't have been happier.