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Fuck this fucking shit
Where is it?
Where the fuck is it?
"Blitzø, darling, are you alright?"
"U-Uh, yeah, I’m fine Stolas-"
"What’s-" the owl yawned, "What’s up with all the noise at this hour..?"
"Nothing, don’t worry, go back to sleep-"
"Blitzy, I will always worry. You sure you don’t need any help? Just open the door, I don’t mind if you need me."
Blitzø froze on his spot on the bathroom, raising his head toward the closed door.
"Stolas, go back to sleep."
"Are you sure?"
His hands were shaking.
No.
"Yeah, I’ll join you once I’m done."
I need you.
Now.
Please…
"If you say so… Good night love, just… tell me if you need anything."
Please don’t leave me.
Stolas’ steps could be heard, retracting to their shared bed, and the taller man got under the covers.
Blitzø was still in the bathroom.
His hands were shaking and his vision was blurry; although, he couldn’t tell if it was because of his blind eye or the tears running down from it.
I can’t-
Fucking Christ on a stick, I swear it was—
There.
Bingo.
The imp’s hand brushed the metallic blade of the scissors and he grabbed it, not giving a single fuck if he hurt himself while taking them.
That’s the god damn point anyway.
He brought them to his view and a smile - a twisted, deranged and off-looking smile - creeped on his face.
Fuck.
He knew it had been a while - he promised, he fucking promised Stolas that he’d stop - but the bird didn’t know what was happening behind closed doors.
What he didn’t know couldn’t hurt.
Blitzø never really needed it.
He wouldn’t call it a problem.
He was an alcoholic alright, and maybe hooked on too many drugs, but self-harm was not an addiction.
It was just something, just a little something, to get his mind off everything.
Something to make him feel less numb.
Something to keep his attention on.
Something to make him feel alive.
He could stop whenever he wanted. He just… didn’t want to. Not yet.
So yeah, the first line did hurt like hell. So did the second. And the third.
But by the fourth one, he fully got back into the old habit - where on his thigh was the best place and what strength was too little and what strength was too much.
He did not want to rip his scarred skin - he wanted to cut it.
Cutting made it hurt faster, made it bleed faster, got the job done faster.
Ripping it meant that it’d burn later - he could do the first three and not really feel them until the seventh one.
So line after line, cut after cut, his hand pressed the blade on his thigh and pushed and pushed the scissors in, slid it and watched as the black blood appeared and rolled down his skin.
What will Stolas say when I tell him?
You won’t.
But he’ll see.
He won’t.
But what if?
He’ll ignore it.
He doesn’t care.
He never has.
He loves me.
He doesn’t.
He’ll see the cuts.
He’ll see them and be so disappointed, Blitzo.
He’ll care.
No he won’t. He uses you. You’re a puppet and a pawn. You’re under him, you’re under everyone. You can’t escape your life Blitzo.
You can’t change.
You’re bad.
Might as well push the good away.
Make him regret knowing you.
The blade fell down on the ceramic floor, a resonant clang filling the room.
Blitzø felt like he could drop dead.
Right there and then.
Stolas may be a heavy sleeper, his hearing was fucking good.
And he may be tired, but he was not an idiot.
A second later, knocking could be heard from the wooden door, his eyes snapping towards it.
And then towards his thighs.
His bloody and darkened thighs.
Fuck.
"Don’t-"
"Blitzy, what are you doing?"
"- don’t come in! I’m-"
Shit shit shit
He tried to wipe the blood off but somehow made it worse.
"- I’m okay, just slipped! I-"
He hurriedly tried to put the scissors where they were supposed to be but he actually slipped instead.
"FUCK!"
He put his hands behind him before fully falling on the ground, catching himself on the counter, but his horns still managed to hit the solid material.
"Darling, I’m coming in in five seconds, alright?"
Blitzø looked around, his head fuzzy from the shock, and he slowly let go and fell on the ground.
The room was a mess.
He was a mess.
Why can’t I die already?
His clothes were ruined, there were dark spots on the wall next to him and the cabinet’s doors, and the floor was almost entirely covered in black liquid.
He really fucked up didn’t he?
Stolas finished counting behind the door and twisted the handle, stopping a second as he recognized the smell.
"Oh, Bl-"
"Don’t. I can’t-"
Breathing was difficult.
"You can’t-"
Why can’t he breathe?
"You- it’s—"
Were the walls closing on him?
You’re trapped Blitzo. And you’re stuck.
Stuck stuck stuck.
Stuck here.
Stuck being yourself.
Why can’t you fucking be better Blitzo?
"F-uck, Stolas, please, I can’t…"
He could feel something on his shoulder.
Turning his head to the side, Blitzø saw red claws.
Bright red and shiny black claws.
"Don’t fucking touch me!"
"Darlin-"
"You- fuck you , you can’t- you can’t pretend you like me anymore! I know you don’t! Get the fuck out of here, or I swear to Satan that you’ll regret it Cash!"
"Love, I… Cash..?"
Stolas’ eyes brightened as he realized who his lover was talking about.
"Love, your… Cash, he’s not here. He has never been and he never will."
The owl hesitated to put his hand on the smaller one again, not sure if the imp would like or not the gesture. He got on his knees, close to the love of his life without touching him.
"I’m right here Blitzø, I’m here for you now, and if you need me later, I’ll be here for you then. Can you breathe with me? Just listen."
The prince started to exaggerate his breaths, making sure the other demon could hear them over his own labored breathing.
Over the next few minutes, no words were uttered. Silence slowly gained the room as the imp calmed down and opened his eyes, immediately seeing the owl.
"I’m…"
"Now, don’t you dare say ‘I’m sorry’, because you have no reason to be."
Blitzø’s gaze flickered quickly towards the taller one before going back to his thighs. He snorted.
"Fucked up your floor. Stols. Oops."
The owl smiled sadly, glad that his imp was here.
Alive.
"They were due for a change, don’t worry about them sweetheart. Have you…"
He couldn’t ask.
Couldn’t bring himself to ask directly about what was under his eyes.
"You know you don’t have to ‘skip’ fucking mentioning them. I’m not a child."
"Have you cleaned them? And may I take a look to help? And… can I touch you..?"
"Yeah, whatever makes you smile, birdie. I, uh… haven’t. Cleaned them, I mean. Kinda too focused on something else."
"What were you focusing on, darling?"
Blitzø, still not meeting the owl’s eyes, brought his legs towards himself, in hope of hiding what had already been seen.
"Everything?"
He let out a wet laugh, trying to stop the tears that were slowly forming in his eyes.
"Fuck, I tried… I swear I tried dammit, but today- this entire week, even month , has been shitty as fuck. I couldn’t-"
Blitzø, when he first tried to stop this self-destructive habit, instead developed another one.
Still on the floor, his back resting on the sink cabinet, he brought his head forward before slamming it on the cupboard.
Why the fuck can’t I be normal?
Fucking hell!
Before he could do it a second time, slim arms and hands were placed behind him and stopped the movement before Blitzø could fulfill it.
"Blitzø, please, let’s just… let me clean you up and let’s get to bed, alright?"
The imp frowned, a bit mad, but nodded.
"Good, great, thank you love. I’m… I can’t ‘bibidi bobidi boo’ it away, so we’ll have to actually clean and take care of them, you understand?"
Fucking pathetic.
Letting Stolas take care of everything.
I’m a fucking piece of trash.
"Yeah."
"Tell me if you want me to stop anything, I always listen. And- and if you want something, just ask, I don’t mind."
Blitzø’s mind was already drifting away, trying to escape the situation mentally.
"Sure."
Stolas started by taking a wet soft towel and gently rubbed the bleeding thighs, trying to get as much blood off as possible.
Some parts were still fully liquid and easier to clean, while others were dried up.
"Give me your hands darling."
Blitzø obliged and those were cleaned up as well.
"Alright, still doing okay?"
"Hmm"
"I’m going to need an actual answer, if you can. I don’t want to do something that will hurt y-"
"I’m fine Stolas! You can… go ahead and rub everything in alcohol for all I fucking care! If it burns too much I’ll just drink it, easy as that! Christ on a stick…"
"Blitzø, I care… so much about you. And I do not wish to see you hurt. And I know, I know , I can’t force you to stop. But I want to be here, to try and help you, because you deserve so much more than the shit you got."
"Stol-"
"And I know you have every right to not believe me when I say I love you, but I think that by now, I’ve proved it a thousand times. So please , let me… be here, and help, however little it may be."
A beat, then a second, before a small ‘go ahead’ could be heard.
"Now, you do have a point. We need to disinfect your wounds."
As the owl was reaching for rubbing alcohol, Blitzø moved to get up.
"Blitzø-!"
His legs buckled and he fell down again.
Hard.
"Fuck that! Why do you want to clean the cuts so bad? Huh?!"
His voices ranged through the room, hurting a little the bird’s ears. Said owl flinched and froze a moment.
"Darl-"
"You can say it, by the way. It’s not a damn forbidden word. Cut. Cut! Cut! Yeah, I fucking cut myself! And guess what? I never cleaned them. And guess what again? I’ll probably do it one more time! And one more, and more and more until there’s no god damn red skin on me! You can’t-! You’re not a fucking saint Stolas, and I’m a fucking lost cause! Just… cut it out! Cut the shitty act! You can’t change me!"
Stolas tried to get himself to stop shaking. To stop thinking about that night - that full moon night - where he did not take the time to listen to Blitzø before dismissing him away.
Hearing a loved one talk about hating you was something, but hearing them say they hated themselves was on a whole new level.
Blitzø had always been self-destructive.
The second he got close to someone, he had to burn bridges and turn away.
He left Fizz after seeing that he was happier on his own.
He left Verosika after realizing that she actually loved him and it wasn’t just a sucubi act.
And he tried to leave Stolas when he confessed his feelings.
And since Blitzø couldn’t deny his own feelings and was now with Stolas, well…
Physical self-destruction was always an available route.
"I don’t deserve any of this! I didn’t ask for you to save me, I didn’t ask for anyone to save me! You should just… leave me. Why…"
A tear ran down the scarred side of his face.
"… why do you even bother with me, Stolas?"
The owl was suddenly very aware of his own tears, wiping them away to no avail.
"Because, as you said, I love you. You don’t… have to be okay 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. You don’t have to be okay right now, just for my sake. I love you for who you are, for who you really are, and you’ve been broken so many times that mending yourself together will take time. It’s okay if you’re not your true self now because you are trying, and that’s enough."
The prince pressed a hand on the white cheek in front of him, brushing his thumb under Blitzø’s blind eye.
"You’re enough, Blitzø. And no matter what you tell yourself, I will always love you darling."
Stolas could see his lover’s ones dropping as he tried to stay awake and the former smiled.
"I just need to clean and wrap you up and then off to bed we go, okay?"
Blitzø nodded, emotionally and physically wasted.
The bird took the washcloth again and poured some alcohol on it to fully clean the wounds before drying them and putting bandages.
"These-"
"- are gonna scar, I know. Not exactly my first round, is it?"
He snorted but there was no amusement in the imp’s voice. Only guilt.
You fucked up and you’re gonna pay for it, Blitzo.
"I’m… sorry, Stolas. I swear-"
"Don’t-!" the owl sighed. "Don’t promise anything. Well, actually, promise me one thing."
"What is it?"
"That even if you know you will hurt yourself in any way, shape or form, and you know I can’t stop you, you’ll call or tell me or somehow let me know. I know you technically already promised that, in a way, but just… tell me. Talk to me. I won’t force you, but it is something that I would like to know about."
A pause, then the imp shook his head.
"I can’t- I can’t really promise it. I can say ‘I promise’, but I can’t actually promise shit. I’ll try. I can promise I’ll try, but fuck, I can’t promise I’ll do it."
Wrapping his arms around the smaller one and scooping him up once the bandages were done, Stolas planted a kiss on the imp’s forehead.
"That’s all I ask my dear."