The Scab Collector (1/5)

For once, Vivian had a reason to get up, even though it was morning. His body wasn't getting the message, though. It felt full of lead. Keeping his eyes open was a struggle. Half an hour later than he intended, he hauled himself out of bed, then squeezed into a binder and skinny jeans. The binder rarely seemed to help him pass, but he was even less comfortable leaving the house without than with it.

"You're going to miss the bus," his mother told him from the kitchen table, seconds after he left his room. Their house was small. Two bedrooms. One bathroom. A living room and a kitchen with room for a table. They each got their own room. That was all Viv really needed.

And he wasn't going to school. "Leah's picking me up. Gotta go."

"Oh, is she giving you rides again?"

"Uh. Yeah." Actually, she wasn't. Not under normal circumstances, anyway. Leah loved him, but his chronic lateness was too much, even for her. She had stopped picking him up a week into the school year after he slept through her calls from in front of his house.

"You'd better stay in her good graces this time."

"I will." Viv closed the front door behind him and made his way across the front yard. Leah was already waiting for him in her hand-me-down beater. Had she done something to her hair, or did everything just look better that day? Her halo of luxurious bleach-blonde curls seemed brighter and fluffier than usual. It couldn't just be the contrast with her skin. Maybe she'd bleached it lighter over the weekend.

"You got your ticket?" she asked.

Viv felt his pocket just to be sure. "Yup."

"Good." Leah stared out at the sleepy suburban street ahead of them. "Aldo, got your ticket?"

What?

"You gave it to me ten minutes ago, so, like, no. I got hungry. Sorry."

Viv craned his neck to confirm the dubious information his ears were feeding him. Sure enough, Aldo was right there in the back seat. Long reddish brown hair and charmingly unassuming smile and all. Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit. Leah never told him she'd invited Aldo. "Wh--what are you doing here?"

"Skipping school to go to a concert? Happy birthday, by the way."

It wouldn't be Viv's birthday for another month, but he wasn't about to correct Aldo. How had Leah convinced him? Viv could hardly even get Aldo to hang out with him after school. It wasn't that they weren't friends. Aldo ate lunch with Viv every day, even though he had so many other friends from all the stuff he was involved in. He always had a rehearsal, or a competition, or a performance, or something, after classes. Then again, Viv had never thought of asking Aldo to skip school itself with him.

Leah shot Viv a wicked grin. "Are you getting in or what?"

Sheepishly, Viv hauled himself into the front seat. He was too happy. You didn't get to be that happy without something bad happening to balance it out. And he had his very own, personal "something bad" to execute that balance. Cyril hadn't shone himself in weeks, but Viv couldn't shake the suspicion he'd see him later that night.

///

Cody was someone else. He was screaming, not singing, and he had an entire (faceless) backing band. They charged across a massive stage and leaped high above it as they played before a seething, shrieking sea of an audience. Not-Cody was used to it. Thrived on it, in spite of how his throat and joints ached.

///

Aldo was singing the wrong words. Viv would have been mortified if it were anyone else he knew. Hell, he actually was kind of mortified, but Aldo was the one person he could forgive.

The vocalist got passed through the audience at some point. He was maddeningly close, but Viv had to strain to touch him. His fingers just barely brushed against his idol's jeans. Viv thought his calf felt muscular under the denim—surprisingly hard—but maybe he only thought that. He got passed away so quickly.

The stage darkened, but the music they played between sets didn't come back. They got one encore. That was fair. Viv was so tired, but he also couldn't believe it was over. How many years until they came back?

He and Leah got t-shirts on their way out. Viv tried to convince Aldo to get one, but a souvenir of the show wasn't worth thirty dollars to him. On their way out, he said he'd borrow Viv's if Viv really wanted to see him in one.

He didn't know what he was offering. Should Viv take him up on it? Or was it a joke? Would he wear the shirt again if Aldo had worn it?

Of course he would. And he'd hate himself for making it smell like himself instead of Aldo.

What did Aldo even smell like?

No. Creepy. Don't think creepy thoughts about someone when they're right there. Idiot.

Viv hesitated in the doorway of the club. Once he stepped outside, they wouldn't let him back in. The night would be over.

///

The music changed as the show went on. Turned poppy and campy out of nowhere. Cody was himself again. He threw an arm around a long-haired guitarist that may or may not have been Joss and sang his heart out. A familiar face stared up at him in wonder from the front row. It was the person he was earlier in the set! Or was that a completely different show? No time to ponder it. The show went on, but the face occupied his every conscious thought.

He described the person he saw to a roadie and sent them off to try and find him. Bring him backstage. It was sure to work.

It was a ridiculous request. The crowd was too big. All Cody could do was describe him, anyway. Words were not enough to describe human faces. Not in the kind of detail you'd need to pick one from a group as big as the now-departing audience. Chances were, the man Cody saw went home.

Re-wind. Or maybe just the next show on the tour. The face was in the front row again—no, Cody had to be imagining it. He just wanted it to be there. They were too far away. When did he see that face, anyway? A week ago? No way its owner would have followed them that far.

He was using the main toilets after the show instead of the employee ones. Why? Maybe they were the only ones. He was done with his set, but no one had left. Maybe there were more people. Who was he opening for, then?

Single bathroom. One toilet, one urinal. He could have sworn there were stalls. He closed and locked the door behind him.

Except he must not have, because someone came in after him. It was—

///

It was already over, though. Holding everyone behind him up wouldn't make the band come back and play more. It also wouldn't dissolve Viv's headache or clear the muzziness plaguing his body.

Forty minutes in Leah's car passed like ten. Just when they hit his neighborhood, Viv's stomach flipped over in protest. He didn't want to leave the car. Didn't want Aldo to leave. Wouldn't it be nice if they could all just stay over night at Leah's house?

It was a school night, though. And Viv didn't think Leah and Aldo were particularly close, so that would actually be pretty weird.

God, he owed Leah big. How many pages of smut could he draw before Christmas? Maybe he should make it a birthday present instead. That'd give him seven months.

They dropped Aldo off first. He lived on the northern end of town. Viv got out so Aldo could get out. His heart leaped into his throat when Aldo hugged him and wished him a happy birthday again.

Leah giggled at him once they were a block away.

“What?”

“You're still blushing. I can see it in the dark,” she said.

Viv was too happy to be embarrassed. He didn't think he'd ever been that happy. Before getting out of the car, he kissed Leah's cheek. “Best night ever. Thank you so, so much.”

Leah chuckled and twisted around to hug him. “I'll remember you said that next June.”

Viv's mom wouldn't be home until late. She was working a night shift. If he was asleep by the time she got home, he wouldn't have to deal with her reaction to his skipping school until the next day. He didn't want to change out of his clothes because it would wash away the sweat from the concert, but he knew he'd regret it in the morning. And he usually tried to take a shower whenever he had the energy for it. Besides: he was cold. He could use a hot shower.

His heart started pounding again as he closed the front door behind him and locked it. He was being paranoid. Or maybe his mom was home early.

No, she wasn't. She would have said something by then if she were. Noticed him coming in. And all the lights were out—

No. Actually, they weren't. There was a glow coming from under the bathroom door. The closed bathroom door. Neither of them left the door closed behind them like that.

///

—it was the man from whenever-ago. The one with the beautiful face that he was sure he hadn't seen in the front row that night.

Except he had. It wasn't his imagination.

And Cody knew why he was there.

///

Viv knew why the door was closed, and the light was on. But he forced the thought from his mind and thought of silence as he padded cautiously down the hall. He shut himself ever-so-slowly in his bedroom once he was in, holding the knob and slowly turning it instead of letting the door latch by itself. Pawed through his dresser drawer in search of his comfiest polar fleece pants. Didn't find them. They were on the floor by his bed. Still clean enough to wear, Viv told himself.

He stood behind his door for what felt like five minutes before summoning the courage to open it. No one was waiting for him in the hallway. He didn't let himself stop before opening the bathroom door, not even to knock. No one should have been in there. He had no reason to knock.

Cyril was lounging in the bathtub. The sad remains of foam floating on the surface of the water didn't hide his naked body at all. Viv could see his penis with alarming clarity.

“You were out late, Vivian.”

Why was this weirding him out? If he were reading this in a story, he'd think it was so hot he'd jerk off to it. Cyril was thin, but not bony or willowy. Nowhere near ripped or fat—just substantial. His wavy hair was long enough to hit his shoulders, but he kept it out of his eyes. His face was rectangular but soft, his cheekbones perfect. Eyes heavy-lidded and moist. On the big side, proportionally speaking. Viv envied that masculine softness. It would have made more sense for him to envy Cyril's chest. Or even his genitals. Viv had softness in spades once you got past the square jaw he normally considered himself lucky to possess, considering how the rest of his body looked.

Cyril tipped his head and grinned at Viv. “Like what you see?”

Viv ripped his gaze away. Brushed his teeth and tried to figure out what to do next. Cyril wasn't getting out of the tub any time soon. That would make things too easy. Maybe he'd follow Viv to bed if Viv pretended like he hadn't planned on showering. Then Viv could get up and shower after. Sleep on the couch until his mom got home. Maybe she'd be too angry about his missing school to wonder why he'd pick the couch over his own bed.

Who was he kidding? He didn't have it in him to try anything like that.

Besides, Cyril could just as easily wait in the bathroom until Viv's mom got home. He hadn't let her catch wind of him yet, but that only made it more likely that he'd do it then. What would she do if she saw him?

“You kiss someone gross?” Cyril asked.

What?

“You've been brushing your teeth for the last five minutes. What'd you eat for dinner?”

Viv spat out his toothpaste. “None of your business.” Gas station food.

Cyril sighed and sunk deep enough into the bath to blow bubbles in the water, with his feet propped up on the edge of the tub and his knees near his belly. You wouldn't actually have room to fuck him in that position because the tub was too small, but it was a definite idea to incorporate into Leah's birthday present. Maybe the Christmas present. A novel position could make up for a lack of pages. Maybe Viv could make it in color.

The drain gurgled. Viv whipped around without thinking.

Cyril was draining the tub. “Run me a new one. You let the water get cold.”

Viv gave him the most withering look he could muster. Cyril met his eyes and stared back for a few seconds, then let a smile spread across his face without blinking. Viv was making an idiot of himself. He probably only looked scared. Or at least, that was how Cyril usually said he looked whenever Viv tried to intimidate him.

He turned the water on, but it went straight down the drain. Cyril stared, coldly expectant. Viv rolled his eyes and replaced the plug. “What do you mean, I let the water get cold?”

“Are you going to take a bath with your clothes on?”

“Actually, I was going to take a—”

Cyril closed his eyes and slid onto his back, letting the water cover his face as it rose. He opened his mouth and took a breath under the surface, but it didn't disturb the water at all. It was like a dream. Viv pinched Cyril's nose shut. Cyril gave him a tight-lipped smile from under the water. His floating hair gave him a pale halo.

Viv couldn't think of anything to do after that but take his clothes off. Dimly, he knew it was the worst thing he could do. But his other options had ceased existing. A wave of self-consciousness made him shiver when he pulled off his binder. Maybe it felt weird because the bathroom lights were on. Even when he was by himself, he tried not to look at his reflection when he was naked. He knew Cyril wouldn't care, though. That was one of the only good things about him. He never questioned Viv's gender. The one thing Viv could trust him not to do was touch his chest.

How was Viv supposed to do this, anyway? Hesitantly, he stepped into the tub. Cyril opened his eyes and slid backwards so he was only stomach-deep in the water.

“Turn around,” he murmured, voice milky.

Viv obeyed and sat between Cyril's legs. Cyril leaned forward to wrap his arms around Viv's stomach and suck on Viv's neck. The world ceased to exist. There was only Cyril, and the water, and the bathroom light shining orange through Viv's eyelids.

///

Cody let the man from the crowd pull him away from the urinal. It wasn't like he really needed to pee, anyway. Next thing he knew, they were on the floor. They moved so fast they were like water flowing from a faucet. Or had they fallen? No, that would have hurt. Cody didn't hurt. His new lover's body felt uncannily familiar—

It was a lot like his own, actually. Same height. Same build. Probably the same weight. His jaw felt like Cody imagined his own jaw felt to other people. He hoped his lips and tongue were that soft. No way was his hair that soft. This guy's hair felt more like down than human hair.

And come to think of it, he was weirdly pallid. His hair was one thing. Hair could naturally grow white, grey, or platinum blonde. Bleach existed. But greyish-white skin wasn't normal. This man looked like he'd walked out of a colorless old photo. The light even seemed to turn grainy against him.

Mmm, but who cared what color his hands were when they could do what they were doing to Cody's—

///

Pain. His wrist bloomed with it. Viv looked down and saw blood, but there was nothing he could do about it. Cyril had him. His grip was too strong. Viv could feel himself quivering, but that was all.

No, that wasn't all. He could hear himself, too. He could hear himself screaming at Cyril to stop. But he couldn't feel the words in his mouth.

Cyril finished slicing Viv's left wrist open. It took hours. It took seconds. It probably took a minute. By the time he started on the right, Viv already felt like most of his life had drained into the bathwater. He could feel himself slumping against Cyril's body, like he'd stay alive if he could just absorb enough warmth from his assailant and the water.

“They'll think you did this to yourself,” Cyril whispered as he drew the razor down Viv's wrist. It was one of the knives Viv used to make stencils. Why had he ever thought screen printing was a good idea? He'd been at it for over a year, but still hadn't produced a single item he was proud of. No matter how nice the stencil itself turned out, the final product always looked like shit. “Leah's going to hate you for this.”

Oh, god. Leah. Viv had forgotten about her. He couldn't move his body enough to cry anymore, but fresh sobs ripped through his insides even so. Cyril was right. She'd hate him forever—

<<>>

Cody's doing that whimper-moan thing he does when he's really turned on. Never heard him do that in his sleep before. This shit is the real reason I don't like when Viv sleeps with us. Getting accidentally squashed between him and Cody, I wouldn't mind, if I didn't have to get up for work in twenty minutes. It's the weird dreams that make it awkward.

I can handle one set of extra dreams, but two's a bit much. And I can't help but wonder if I'm inadvertently acting like some kind of conduit that's mixing their dreams up. This isn't the first time they've synced up like this, but I've never seen Cyril in Cody's dreams until now.

Maybe that should worry me. The scars on Viv's wrists are very real.