Alan Humphries sat in the bar among his friends; this was his first time to have been invited to go out 'partying' with Ronald Knox and Eric Slingby. They had met up with other people at the bar, all of those that were well known by Eric and Ronald. Alan sat apart from the others, clutching his glass of water.

Drink! Drink! Drink!" a chant arose from the members of the party, cheering on Eric and Ronald as the chugged their beers quickly and sloppily. Alan smiled a little bit at the actions of his associates and took a sip of his water.

"Hey, Alan! Why don't you get some bourbon and join us?" Ronald called, which raised a cheer from the group.

"No, no! I'm alright!" he sheepishly replied, his cheeks blushing. Ronald shrugged and went back to flirting, two girls on each arm.

Alan looked down to hide how red his face was, and noticed the crimson color that spotted his white shirt cuffs. 'What is that?' He rolled his sleeves up a tiny bit, and noticed he was bleeding on both wrists. He got up, pressing napkins that were on the table to the mysterious wounds. Alan quickly went to the bathroom and began to wash the blood off. There were cuts than ran halfway to his elbows, all following the lines of his veins.

"What...? When did this happen?" Alan asked, his voice panicked.

He lightly touched the wounds; which didn't hurt or sting when he gently pressed his fingers against the open flesh. Before his eyes, the wounds began to heal and scar. As soon as he knew it, the bleeding stopped and white, puffy lines were left on his wrists.

"What the hell is going on?"

The bathroom door clattered open, and Eric Slingby strode in majestically.

"Hey, Alan! How are you enjoying the party?" Eric asked with a smile as he began unzipping so he could take a piss.

"Uh...It-It's great!" he replied shakily, rolling his sleeves down so Eric couldn't see.

"You okay?" Eric asked from over his shoulder, noticing Alan's change from his steady, normal tone.

"Yeah!" he paused, "But I think it's just best if I went home...I'm not feeling too well."

Eric finished his business and began washing his hands in the sink next to Alan. He gave a suspicious glance to his friend, noticing how pale Alan had become. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah. I'm sorry...I feel bad that I'm leaving early. Maybe we can do this another time?"

"Sure." Eric replied blankly, wondering what Alan was hiding from him. He dried his hands, contemplating whether he should invade Alan's personal space or not. "What's wrong? You said you weren't feeling well, can I get you some medicine?"

"No, no! I don't want to bother you with that!" Alan moved back towards the door, his arms behind his back.

"Alan, seeing as how we've known each other for a couple years now, I can tell that you aren't yourself. I can tell that you're not sick, either. What's really up?" he leaned against the wall casually, arms crossed in front of him.

"N-Nothing." Alan tried finding the door handle.

"Well, when you need someone to talk to, I'm here for you, Alan." Eric offered a smile to the petite shinigami.

"Thank you, Eric."

Without a second glance, Alan left the restroom and grabbed his jacket off of his chair on the way out of the bar. He quickly put it on, and pulled the collar up against the cold wind. What was he going to do about...whatever those things on his wrists were?