He's sitting in the one chair in his room, bunched up and nervous, gazing absently out his always-open window. A bird outside, a sparrow, sings a little to try and comfort him. Tulio wanders about every once in a while as well, as if keeping an eye on him. He'd appreciate it if he wasn't too busy trying to figure out... what he was doing.

Willingly letting someone into his room? If Michael asked, yes, he'd let him in. Michael understands it and tells him he's beautiful. But Euri--even though she's been in there twice--doesn't get it. She couldn't possibly understand, not without him telling her. It still makes her nervous just being there. And yet, he's about to show her something he's shown to maybe a dozen people in his entire life: the truth.

And he doesn't know how much he'll tell her. Maybe he won't. Maybe she'll be understanding and unafraid just like she said, and he'll be happy to just have a shred of comfort that perhaps he's not as undesirable as he thinks (but that doesn't stop the nagging fear that she'll hate him and be frightened by him and be disgusted that she would have ever wanted to touch such an ugly thing).

The knock on the door echoes louder-than-life in his head as he's pulled back to the present. He stares at the knob for a moment, thinking that... he could pretend he's not there, and they wouldn't have to (but he wants to, which makes that impossible). But he slowly uncurls from his seat, presses his feet to the floor, and calls out.

"It's unlocked."

There's less blood on the walls today. He hates not having it there, but Euri hates seeing it even more, he imagines.