Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

Warning: This fic contains self-harm. If you're not comfortable with it, please do go back.

Watch Me Bleed

The dark, threatening sky covered Magnolia. The sun had been suddenly swallowed by the overcoming greyness and light drizzles were falling here and there, predicting the storm that was brewing.

Gray looked out the window, one corner of his mouth twitching slightly while his head tipped forward in an infinitesimal nod.

He liked the weather outside.

He approved the weather outside.

It was mildly satisfying to know that there was something out there showing his inner mood.

The teacher's voice reached him, still in drone-like mode.

It was amazing how the dark haired youth hadn't fallen asleep yet – more so since it was the History teacher we were talking about. The man was famous for making the audience fall asleep. Seriously, the dude had to inject some liveliness to his voice. That would be a good change to…

Finally – finally! – the bell rang, signalling the end of yet another excruciating day.

Gray grabbed his books and threw them in his backpack, slinging it over his shoulder and making his way out of the classroom.

At least he had given it enough time and most of the students were on their way home, far away. Hopefully he wouldn't…

A sudden punch to his gut had Gray doubling over himself, the air whooshing out of him in a startled wheeze.

"Hello, hello. You thought we had forgotten you?" Cobra, the person he did not want to meet now, asked with a pleased smirk on his face. Seeing that a teacher was coming down the hall, he quickly straightened Gray and slung an arm around his shoulders and, surrounded by his goons, they herded Gray to the little garden at the back of the buildings.

Gray was pushed against the wall.

"What do you want?" he all but growled, menacingly.

"Oh, now you're acting feisty, are you?" the smirk on the other's face sharpened and he leaned forward, invading Gray's space. "You know what we want. We want what's due. This delay isn't helping your case…" claw-like fingers tightened around Gray's right writs and squeezed, seemingly grinding the bones together.

Gray's jaw set and he tried to push his wrist free. To no avail.

"I don't have anything!" Gray snarled.

The hand holding him suddenly let go. "Suit yourself," Cobra's fist quickly connected with Gray's face and that spurred the other guys – the other four guys who had just stood there so far – into action. The dark haired youth was taking a beating, granted, but he wasn't one to go down without a fight. So he fought back, throwing punches and quickly breaking free in the few times they tried to grab him.

After what felt like years to Gray, the bullies left him on the ground, departing with a kick to his ribs for good measure and a "You're going to break soon."

Gray lay on the ground, his heartbeat calming slightly as he waited and steadied himself. His breathing evened out (even if he felt it hitching every now and then) and Gray finally dared to sit up. The world attempted to spin around him but Gray already knew the deal. So he controlled his breathing and slowly got up. A grimace settled in his features as he felt the aches already making themselves known. The day after was going to be a tough one… He grabbed his backpack (which had been discarded by the root of one of the tall trees) and slowly made his way home.

The door closed heavily behind his drenched form – as he had been caught by the storm – and Gray was engulfed by darkness.

He stood there, dripping on the tiled floor as he listened to the heavy drops hitting the closed windows and the wind howling furiously. The backpack fell on the floor wetly, his cold fingers barely moving.

With a weary sigh, Gray made his way to his room, mindless of the mess he was leaving behind. Neither Ur nor Lyon were going to come home. Hell, neither was in town.

Ur: because she had gone to a conference and Lyon because he: had gone to a meeting with his old colleagues and friends. They would be out the whole week. Gray was expecting Lyon to return during the weekend but Ur would only come in a fortnight.

He quickly took out his jacket and let it fall on the end of the bed, then he hurried to undress. Soon he was only in his underwear, the clothes a sodden heap on the floor. But he had other things to worry about, by then.

Gray knelt and opened the last drawer of his bedside table. Placing his hands underneath it, he looked for the small buttons he knew were there. The 'click' they emitted made him let his breath out. He took out the bottom and grabbed the small pouch that fell. His hand closed around it and a soft metallic noise sounded.

He was…

Yes, he was doing this.

He had tried to resist to this need but now it was too much. It was…

He had had too much crap in his life already and this was the way he had found to cope…

It wasn't good and didn't make him proud but… this allowed him to survive and overcome the heart-ripping, crippling pain that he had had to go through. At least this way he felt physical pain – it helped him deal with the mental one.

Biting his lower lip Gray shook his head. He didn't have to try to justify his actions to himself – again. Right now he only had to attain the relief he was seeking, and that was it.

A small tendril of guilt curled inside but he hurried to quash it. No, he was doing this.

Raising himself slowly, Gray headed to his bathroom, the coldness of the tile seeping into his bare feet and grounding him slightly.

With a soft click, the small cubicle was bathed in white light, the mirror reflecting his figure ominously. The way his hair was flattened and falling over his face made more shadows appear in his pale skin, the skin seemed to be slightly stretched over his bones and lines of tension made appeared here and there, aging him. Or course that the bruises on his face didn't help his case.

His eyes glanced at his other self but he didn't dare meet his gaze – he never could.

He didn't dare.

Setting the pouch on the white porcelain of the sink, Gray quickly assembled the things he would need for afterwards.

When all was set, he slowly opened the pouch and settled it on the sink again. Two fingers of his right hand slipped inside and closed around the cold object he was looking for. When he took it out he was greeted by the metallic glint that hit his eyes. For a couple of heartbeats Gray stood, frozen, over the bathroom sink, teeth worrying on his lower lip. Then, slowly, he raised the silvery, sharp blade until it bit his now warming flesh. He didn't think. His hand made a little more pressure and the skin split open, bit by the unyielding metal, digging into his arm. Pain hit him instantly, the white-hot pain rippling up his arm; making his fingers curl on the white porcelain, in an attempt at finding purchase.

Gray grit his teeth and let out a hiss as the blade continued slicing.

At the same time, the iron fist that seemed to be around his chest seemed to be easing, the more pain he felt. Drawing a ragged breath Gray dropped the blade and listened to it fall in the sink. But he paid it no mind, eyes riveted on the red fluid that was sliding down his arm. His arm felt like it was on fire but Gray couldn't look away, couldn't move. It was as if time had stopped, the world had frozen and that the absolute crap his life was or his worries just didn't exist any more.

This was the moment he craved, that he wished would last for longer. But, alas, the same way that the blood was making its way down the drain, the moment shattered and guild instantly rushed through him, making his legs feel like jelly and forcing him to lean heavily against the sink.

His breathing was the only sound in the room and it reverberated on the walls, bouncing back at him.

Despite the maelstrom that was threatening to take over his mind, Gray was safe in that little place where he felt at peace. Now he could see. Only now did he have the focus to analyse things correctly, to store them in their rightful places.

He has gone through worse – his parents' deaths during that car crash.

This shit now at school.

The pressure.

The constant fights.

He wasn't like this.

He was hiding his true self.

But… what if he was this now, if he had lost his himself already?

No!

There were good things that pulled him back in. He had Ur and Lyon. They grounded him here, she with her caring but firm attitude and he by being the brother he never had, their sibling rivalry something to look forward to.

But it didn't matter. If they ever found out about this, everything would be so much worse. And they would be so disappointed in him – Gray couldn't stand the thought of it.

His eyes, which had fallen shut earlier, opened again for him to look at the dance of the blood.

It wouldn't matter if he-

"Watch me bleed…" he mutters in a broken voice, a pained frown settling on his features before he allows blankness to invade his mind. Seconds later he's reaching for the dressing he had prepared earlier and he's pressing it against the wound, trying to absorb some of the blood before he sets to clean it.

Nothing really matters because, in the end, life went on.

A/N: Poor Gray. He never seems to be able to have a break… at least not with me around… :P

So, this story appeared one day after I read something. My bunnies decided to give it a go and, as the Muse was with me, who am I to say no? And, okay, I apologize for making Gray all OoC but writing this story helped me sort some things out. Writing is a way to get rid of our demons, as they say…

I don't mean any disrespect or that people feel somewhat irked at the way I wrote things. This is a complicated subject and I really don't mean to make/show/write it as anything but. I never did this but I do understand the feelings that would push someone to do it.

The title of the fic comes from a song by Tears for Fears by the same name.

My thanks to Subkulture for the beta. ^^

Thanks for reading. Any feedback is, as usual, appreciated.