You and Peter were very close friends, since you only had each other because you were the least popular in high school... and the weirdest

In the janitor's room

As usual, you and Peter sneaked out of class. You were sitting comfortably while chatting, but suddenly Peter grabbed your wrist, though at least he was careful. He began tracing your cuts that had become scars with his index finger

"We share cuts... you know that, right? I'd like... for this to unite us" He said softly, interlacing his fingers with yours; he truly cared deeply for you

"Wouldn't you like to share blood...?" He asked, his bright blue eyes fixed on yours with some hope as he slowly pulled a switchblade out of his black jeans pocket