A Single Moment Of Sincerity [SOMEONE SOMEWHERE SEQUEL]

It's killing me, it's killing me

Several hours past, and sleep just hadn't come for me. The bunk itself was dark but the hum of activity in the main room echoed into the small space surrounded me, and kept me longing for some distraction. Distraction from today and everything wrong in it. I wasn't even totally sure if Ben had taken me back or what, though what he left me for I'm still unclear of, I wasn't cheating or anything like he probably had.

Ben's always had a temper though, remember? I calm myself, yeah today was worse, but it always gets better. The unconscious body next to me fidgeted, wrapping his arms around my waist tighter even still, and pushing his weary head onto my shoulder. Which made me giggle a little, surely it's meant to be the other way around? Like, with the girls head on him... sod it, he's damn cute right now.

“Hun, cute as you may be, I'm going to the other room.” I whispered just in case he was half awake, so he wouldn't wonder what happened to me and get angry, but nothing happened at all. So, silently and gently I slid his tight arms from around my slim waist, at first not really taking much notice that he had been wearing a long sleeved top to bed. He probably just forgot to take it off. I thought, then remembered he was wearing a tank top last evening, and he never wears a top in bed. Though, I guessed he could be cold, so shook my head, it was unusual, but not weird.

The darkness had impaired my vision greatly, so when I drew back the curtain I was blinded, my eyelids snapped shut, putting me back into a comforting darkness, but bright dots were still visible, they had etched themselves into my sight. Opening my eyes slightly, letting them adjust I saw just why Ben had been wearing the shirt after all.

His right arm sleeve had risen in his depressed sleep, showing several rows of deep marks - they looked fresh. Little trickles of dark liquid had dried in spurts seeping down to his arm, and each mark were swollen considerably, as if done within the past few hours... When I left to meet James. I took a sudden intake of breath, and fell backwards. Considering I was sat on the edge of the bed, I had crash landed to the floor. This was one time I was glad he had bottom bunk.

Ben stirred slightly in his bunk, and I saw his groggy eye lids lift slightly, as if it took him all his energy to do that. For the next 30 seconds I sat there; shocked, and angry with myself. What if I caused that... that was it, I would never be able to forgive myself.

“Uhh, Babe, what are you doing there?” He slurred in his dreamy state, his eyes wide open but void of emotion or life. Those, normally dancing orbs, drifted down hauntingly to both his arms. He must have noticed his right sleeve because he propped himself up, and solemnly readjusted them, keeping it hidden, perhaps in hope I hadn't already seen it. His eyes didn't even show fear or sadness, they just looked dull – dead.

A drunken Sam had stumbled in, glanced lazily at us, and left, attempting to tell the band the noise was me falling down, but my gaze never left Ben's face. I felt so bad for him, and right then any problems I had with my feelings had gone. I loved Ben, and he needed me. Moving gracefully to my knees, I leaned into the bunk and carefully grasped his hand. I pushed up his sleeve slightly, being sure not to rub it against the marks, and lightly kissed his battle scars.

“Oh Ben, you never said.” I sighed, looking up into his eyes.

“I couldn't.” he murmured.

“Did this only just start?” Kissing his scars one more time, and raising myself to sit on the bed.

“Kind of... well no... when I left for this tour it started... I'm sorry.” He dropped his eyes as if he was ashamed.

“Can. Can I see?” I voiced, quietly and evenly. He hesitated, his whole body looked drained, but he must have thought about it and began to take his shirt off, taking his time, as if he were exhausted.