Communal showers had only ever bothered Melvin in regards to hygiene. While he approved of showers in most every form, when one was made to be shared by many men of a variety of shower-scheduled habits, some with less frequency of visits than others, he tended to worry about what lingered in a moist environment. Mold was a large concern, but when he shuffled awkwardly into the boy's bathroom, he was amazed to see that it was pristine. Better than that. It was shimmering! Everything looked as if it was recently painted if not redone. The lack of nicks, scrapes, and scuffs told him that a overhaul had happened at some point, and he smiled at not even a chipped tile. A twisting worry was unwinding in his gut as he found that at least the small sanctuary of the showers was in great condition, as he wouldn't know what to do if they were in some vile, gas-station state of deplorable grim.

But not all the knots were gone.

Holding his bath things that he managed to pack (and were not stolen from his bag as the whiskey had been), he adjusted his towel and then stepped past the lockers, glancing at the lockers and muted whispering from farther off as lockers slammed shut and echoed around him. It was strange in that he felt like it was college all over, but the setting was more akin to being in a football locker room or that of the army, and not having been in any of those before coming here, he felt out of place. The science kid sneaking into a room of buff men set to fight evil creatures. He didn't even LOOK the part, and it was even clearer with just a towel on.

Stepping into the shower room, he was welcomed with the lingering smells of various shampoos and soap bars along with a heavy steam. A shower would be the only thing to calm him, and he moved to a free spot before figuring out the dials and which one was hot and cold before putting his glasses aside with his towel and starting the shower. A curtain of hot water hit him, and he breathed in deep.

What felt like years (and possibly could have been) of worries and what felt like grim was washing away, and he stood there a long time just getting warm before finally reaching for some body wash (yes, for guys!) and lathering up.

It was while he had washed and was now repeating (as per instructions), that his eyes darted. Now he wasn't the type to actively look around when taking a shower, but his attention was caught. No, not on anything lower on the men also taking part in cleaning themselves, but on the type of men here. These were people who had, in some form and setting, been approached and ask if they had wanted to give up their normal lives and come here to fight the shadows. They too saw what he saw. This in itself was overwhelming, and he was amazed that there were even more than 2 people in the world that could see what he saw. Had seen. Would continue to see. There was a group, and just like a nerd finding just the right forum, he had a place to express himself without worry.

However, as he looked, he was taken some of the forms. Some were built, but others weren't - which made him glad that he didn't have to start pounding weights every day. What caught his eyes most of all from the very start were the scars. Almost everyone he passed by here in the locker room to the shower room had them. Long ones on shoulders or dotting small ones on backs and on their sides. He had to wonder how long they had been there to accumulate so many, or if they were still relatively new. How long did it take to get that..........damaged?

Looking back, he ran a hand over a clear, bare arm, watching the water rush over his even-toned skin. The worst scratches and nicks he ever had was falling down as a kid, the one time he went to the hospital, and a few paper-cuts. Nothing long lasting, but even getting clawed by a cat or the idea of nicking his finger with a knife made him shiver. Something had to cut deep to leave a scar. He knew that much. It had to take time to heal to leave those marks, and he had signed himself up to be shredded.

All this time he had been avoiding being hurt by the shadows. He walked around them on the street if they were lingering, and avoided areas that he knew they were there. He avoided direct contact in that fear to get harmed, and now he was here among the men who went directly to them.

It made him ashamed of his own untouched skin, and he almost wished he could have gotten a few scars before coming here in order to blend in. Then he thought of deep scaring and torn flesh and reached out to turn the dial for the hot water, feeling a shiver.

Maybe if he was careful, he could avoid most of those attacks? Maybe if he was more aware of things, learned from those around him, he could wind up not being raw, pummeled hamburger by the end of all this? How long am I going to last before I get torn up?

The shower head above shuttered before a shearing blast of cold water hit him like sharp rocks, and he jumped back with a 'Eep!' that echoed around the shower room enough for him to hear how high pitched he was. Luckily for him, the sound of laughter from those around him overtook it. Now hot form his own rosy complexion, he gathered his things and left the shower stall to head to his locker. At least he knew to jump back whenever the shower pipes started to shake. You tended to learn quick when you got such a shock. He hoped he could come to survive others when it mattered, then maybe he could laugh with the others with the marks of experience.

((Words: 1,05 cool )