To The Bone

A slow hiss slipped through his lips as the edge of the kitchen knife bit into the sensitive flesh of his inner thigh. He quickly got used to the pain as he always did. He recounted all of the markings he had placed on himself over the past three months. One on each forearm. One on each shin, and one on each calf. Five traveling down his stomach and navel. And now one more was being added to the collection, one on each thigh.

He tipped the blade edge and drew it away from him, successfully creating a straight vertical line, about and inch and a half tall. He lifted the blade out and laid it back down again about a half an inch to the side of the now bright red line. He drew another line exactly the same as the one next to it, only this time he carved a smaller version jutting out from the bottom right side of it. "I L" his thigh read.

More than three hours later, he sat the knife down into a blue plastic bucket filled with soapy water. He listened to the water gurgle as the knife sank into its depths, and a feeling of self-satisfaction filled his belly when the dull "thud" of it hitting the bottom met his ears. He leaned back and admired his handiwork on his thigh.

"I LOVE YOU CHR" his thigh shouted silently up at him. He smiled back down at it.

Craig Henry Radford's eye flicked up from the doodle he had been drawing in the corner of his English notes, and saw the familiar form of one his class-mates giving him a couple of handouts from the teacher. He had been seeing this particular class-mate more and more often lately, be it only passing him in the hallway or sitting next to him in Biology. Craig put down his green pen and reached out for the papers, which the other quickly relinquished. The other, Devon Something, hugged the rest of the papers to him, and continued to stare at Craig for a second too long. He flushed when Craig stared back and hurried off to hand out the papers to the other rows of students. Craig blinked, confused at Devon Anonymous's reaction.

The girl sitting behind Craig poked him in the back saying, "Hey, pass those back already." Craig did after pulling one out for himself, watching Devon Question Mark out of the corner of his eye. As usual, he was wearing a dark-colored turtle neck whose sleeves went to his knuckles, and plain blue jeans. Craig wondered why he always covered himself like that...

"Alright class," the teacher interrupted Craig's thoughts, "Has everyone gotten the handout for the persuasive speech from Mr. LeCrois?" LeCrois. Devon LeCrois.

He usually didn't mark himself two days in a row, but today's events called for it. Craig had looked at him! At him! There were no words to describe how he felt!

The hours passed and now his other inner thigh sang out "CRAIG HENRY RADFORD".

Craig watched as Devon limped into their Science class just as the bell rang. He hobbled over to the seat next to Craig and sat down, wincing slightly. He tugged on the thick collar of his navy blue turtle neck, trying to cool himself down.

"Maybe you should start wearing lighter clothing," Craig murmured at him.

"Um... maybe," Devon squeaked back, sinking into his seat, his face bright red.

The next morning he searched through his father's dresser drawer, in search of a button-up shirt. He found one finally, and although it was a bit too big, it covered up his arms and the base of his neck just fine, as long as he buttoned everything up.

"You look a lot better in that," Craig said.

"Uh, th-thanks...," Devon stuttered back.

"Say, do you want to work together on the persuasive speech in English?"

Devon couldn't speak passed the build-up of pleased screams in his throat, so he merely nodded too-enthusiastically.

They were sitting in Craig's bedroom. Craig's bedroom. Devon, dressed again in his usual turtle-neck, felt like he would explode at any second.

"You know, Devon," Craig started, looking away from the rough draft speeches strewn all over his bed, "I've always wondered... why you cover youself like that?"

"Like what?" Devon whispered in a hoarse voice, suddenly tense.

"Like you want to hide something."

"...That was blunt."

"So you are hiding something under all that?"

"Why...," Devon took a quick breath, averting his eyes away from Craig to stare at a poster-covered wall, "Why do you... want to know?" Craig took a sudden step forward, and grasped the bottom hem of Devon's shirt, pulling upward, "H-Hey! Stop it!"

Craig paused, amazed at seeing his own last name glared back at him, running vertically down Devon's exposed stomach.

R

A

D

F

O

R

D

Devon shrieked, swatting Craig's hands away, letting the shirt fall back into place. Devon fell to his knees, clenching the thick material at his stomach, eyes wide, and breathing hitched in anticipation.

"What... what the fuck was that?" Craig said. He didn't yell, much to Devon's surprise.

"You- your name-"

"I know that, dumbass!" he was yelling now. Devon winced, feeling horrible, worse than any feeling he had ever had, aside from the love he felt for Craig. Craig grabbed at Devon's collar, dragging him to his feet, "Why is my name- fucking- fucking- carved into your stomach?!"

"Because...," Devon whispered, staring down at Craig's fist entangled in his shirt, "I love you... so, so much..."

"You love me?" Craig staggered back, letting go of Devon's shirt, disbelieving his ears, "That's not love, you freak! That's obsession!"

Devon looked close to tears, "But... but... I love you," he said louder, "I do!" he repeated this over and over, sinking to floor again, pulling on the edge of Craig's page sheet, making the papers flutter to the floor at their feet. Devon quieted down when Craig's bare feet came into his down-turned vision.

"Take off your shirt," Craig ordered. Devon looked up at him. His neck painfully popped at the angle, "I said, take it off!" Craig shouted, looking angry. Devon winced, grabbing his shirt. He slowly slid it off, huddling into himself once it was. There weren't any marks on his back; he couldn't reach it with a knife, "Stand up," Craig said from between clenched teeth. Devon hesitated, and Craig growled, stamping his foot into the carpet. Devon stood up, wrapping his arms over his stomach, but the gesture did nothing to hide the word "Craig" running vertically down his chest.

"Don't tell me my middle name is under your arms, too?" Craig said sarcastically. He reached out and pushed Devon's arms down to his sides, taking in the extent of the markings all over Devon's upper body. Indeed, his full name was written all the way down Devon's mid-line, The "C" in Craig just at the bottom of his neck, and the last "D" in Radford half-hidden by Devon's pants. On either side of the name, starting below the chest, were two jagged "I LOVE YOU"s also running horizontally. Craig spotted two more claims of affection written on Devon's forearms, one in German, one in French.

Craig was speechless.

Silence overtook the room, and the entire house that was devoid of anyone but them was quiet as the grave.

"You're beautiful, Craig," Devon whispered, hugging himself again, "You're gorgeous. You're humble and kind to everyone. You get almost all A's. You have a perfect family, and perfect friends. Who couldn't resist you? Who wouldn't want to carve your very essence into their body?" Devon's eyes were wide and stared at nothing, although they were pointed in Craig's direction. Craig's mouth was suddenly dry, and he couldn't speak. Devon's eyes focused finally, almost scaring Craig with the intensity in them, "You're to die for."

Craig had no idea that Devon was being perfectly serious, nor could he even fathom the upcoming week when the news came that Devon had committed suicide by carving a jagged heart-shape directly over his Adam’s apple with the initial's "DxC" inside of it. Carved it right to the bone.