Nick came in after Aaron was already done, curled up on the bed with a Scooby Doo bandaid on his arm, just below the elbow. He was halfway to napping, eyes closed, but when Nick sat on the bed behind him, he turned over and smiled sleepily. “Hey.”

Nick tried to smile, but it felt weak. “Hey.” He touched the bandage on Aaron’s arm, thought of the cut beneath it, of pure golden skin interrupted. “You ever gonna stop doing this? Cause I can get the razors taken out of the bathrooms in your hotel rooms if you don’t. I can get them taken off the bus.” His voice was harsh but his hands petted softly, careful not to press too hard, careful of hurting somebody who was already hurt.

“I’d find other things,” Aaron said. “I’m not going to stop.” He smiled like a setting sun and sat up, pulling his shirt over his head. “But I promise I’ll always show you all my scars.”

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