Gin walked out of a store wearing a yellow and white striped, long sleeved shirt. He stared at his black jacket for what seemed like hours, as it sat in the rubbish can at the side of the street, remembering the comfort it had once offered him. He looked back at the shop he had just bought the shirt from, and then back at the black jacket.
“Let us say a few words for Ginny’s ex jacket.” Mari gold said mockingly when she saw the longing in Gin’s eyes.
“Ok, ok.” Gin understood her notion. They had to move on. He grabbed her hand and they walked together down the road. They had been together for about four days.
“How the heck did she talk me into this shopping crap!?” He thought as they walked along the almost empty street.
“What’s next on my list.....” she mumbled to herself. Gin groaned at hearing this statement.
“There’s more!” he thought. “How much can the girl shop?!” According to her, Gin had no scene of fashion and needed a new wardrobe.
“Oh ya! Short sleeves and collard!” Marigold threw her hands in the air in exaggeration.
Gin stopped walking. There was long pause of silence. He was shaking, his face marred with shame.
“I don’t think I can wear short sleeves.” he muttered, almost inaudibly.
Mari took a little long to understand the implications of the seemingly harmless sentence.
“Oh.” She answered, chewing her lip. They walked in silence for a few minutes.
“How many fresh ones are there?” She asked, her voice slightly shaky, her eyes staring at the ground beneath her feet. She had been debating whether or not to ask this question.
He did not answer. He looked away uncomfortably.
“You promised you would stop.” A lump had developed in her throat. He refused to speak.
Within a split second she had grabbed Gin’s left hand, with almost inhuman force, and lifted the sleeve above the elbow. Six red gashes lay fresh upon his skin. He tore his arm away, slamming her to the ground. He was glowering down at her with a mixture of rage and fear; like a cornered animal.
“DONT YOU EVER-” he began yelling. Her little voice cut him in mid sentence.
“I wonder how it feels.” She said, lifting the crafting scissor she used in her art class from her bag. “I really want to know the pleasure you get from doing this to yourself.” She held the sharp edge of the scissor to her clear, white arm, and began to press down gently.
Gin stared in utter disbelief, before common sense regained control of his limbs and he snatched the scissor out of her hands, before she could damage herself.
“Have you gone mad?!” He looked horrified. “Don’t you dare do this to yourself; ever.”
“Why?” Mari asked innocently.
“JUST DON’T!” He answered.
“WHY!” she yelled demandingly.
“I DONT WANT TO WATCH YOU HURT YOURSELF!” He blurted out.
"Yet you make me watch you bleed every second day! You think that’s easy for me?!" She stayed silent for a moment, before continuing. "Tell me something, why should I care how you feel, if you couldn’t give a flying nut shell about what I feel!?” Mari had made her point clearly to Gin.
“I get it.” He looked slightly ashamed. “I’ll promise you, if you promise me; that we will never intentionally hurt ourselves.” He stared sheepishly at her as he held out his hand to pick her of the ground. She stared up at him; her anger was dispersed as fast as it had been inculcated. A smile crept up from the sides of her lip.
“OK.” She answered softly.
Gin removed the paper knife from his pocket and handed it to Mari. She looked at the knife, then at him, but he did not want to look at either her or the knife that moment. She threw the small knife to the side of the road over a wall.
They walked in silence, refusing to look at each other.
“Tomorrow;” Gin finally broke his silence. “We’ll go shopping for some shorter sleeves tomorrow after school. Summers coming in, so soon it will be too hot for longer sleeves.”
“Are you sure?” Mari looked up at him, surprised. His face was lined with a new kind of determination.
“Absolutely.” He answered.
Mari clasped onto his hand and squeezed it tightly in her grip, a slight giggly escaped from her lips. She looked up to see a slight smile brimming at the corner of Gin’s lips.
They continued to walk together in a silence that expressed more than a thousand words.