It was all for the blonde boy.

Metal objects that were only meant to stay in the place-holders of sharpeners were laid out on the bathroom counter, glistening back into the eyes of the brunette who stood upon them. Colby's younger self would've never thought he would be in this position, staring down at the things you wished to use for the wrong purpose, use in the name of love--But here he was, stuck in his overwhelming thoughts that conquered the majority of his brain.  

Do it.

He clenched his teeth, balling his fists sharply as he fought the voice, the very tempting voice. His used-to-be bright blue eyes, which were now dulled out into a grayish-blue, stared at the object, continuing to contemplate his future actions in detail. Imagine the blood pooling down his wrists, falling onto the cold floors that once held his late-night panic attacks, the floors that held his other than consuming tears. These bathroom walls held in so much emotion, so much pain, shouting, everything that's ever been painful; And they closed in on him. The bathroom walls closed in on him many years ago as if it were mimicking his mind.

Suddenly, it hit him. Colby found himself reaching forward and grabbing the silver blade that was as big as the tip of his pinky finger, holding it in the palm of his hand. 

Who knew such a little object could do so much damage? Then again, was it really damage?

He stared at it intently, the flashing images in his mind not super pleasing, but not entirely bad. He could do this; It was for Sam... right? Picking the blade up with his right hand and holding it in between his fingers, Colby placed it slowly over top of his wrist, prepared to add pressure. Gulping, Colby continued to comprehend it.

Was this really a good idea?..

What if Sam saw?

What if the viewers saw?

In the end, did it really matter?

If he did this, nothing would change. It would just get rid of the pain for a little bit. It wouldn't become an addiction, a coping mechanism... 

Fuck it.

Sucking a breath in, Colby felt the blade pierce his skin as he slowly dragged it across, feeling the cool air on his small, open wound. Blood started to rise from it, pooling out slowly as the brunette started to feel a smile creep up onto his face. He placed it over his wrist again, dragging it across a little faster this time, and a little deeper. 

Fuck, why did it shut the voices out?

The brunette continued to make nine direct cuts onto his left wrist, each an every one of them stinging as he finally dropped the blade, multiple sensations and emotions running through his veins as they pooled out bits and pieces of blood. 

Guilt.

Fading, the smile disappeared as he felt guilt crawl up inside him.

But was it really that bad?

It was okay, right?

Tears pricked his eyes as he stared down at his bleeding wrists.

He did it for Sam.

He did it in the name of love.