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Grian curled into himself. The fresh wounds weeping as though they were mourning something. Tears ran down his face, his eyes bloodshot.
The bleeding had slowed down, yet the passage of time didn't seem real, so when a firm knock echoed throughout his house, he wasn't surprised.
After however long, he heard the door creak open eerily. As footsteps sounded through the house, feeling like the bells of death, a new wave of tears appeared like a broken faucet. His floorboards creaked loudly, making him jump; they were growing ever closer and all he could do was huddle in his closet.
The door opened quietly, and their footsteps echoed like they were in an open cavern and not a bedroom. They stopped when they reached the closet door. He heard muffled shuffling before the door pushed in a little.
He heard something scratch softly before a note and pen were pushed under the door. It read “You wanna talk about it? :)” Grian tilted his head before grabbing the pen and clicking it a few times.
He didn't know what to write. No, that was wrong, he knew what he wanted to say, but he wasn't sure how to say it. He thudded his head against the wall as he threw it back in frustration.
Fingers poked through under the door almost as if they were asking to take the materials back, so he pushed them back under the door.
After a few moments of almost silence they pushed the note back. “Take your time. I should be able to figure it out; it doesn't need to be clear. Just write what you want to write.”
Grian smiled softly before picking the paper and own back up and just started writing. The words flowed through him, it barely felt conscious. He ignored the blood soaking into the paper, hoping they would ignore it.
After a while of writing he passed it back without looking at what he had written, if he did, he feared he would want to get rid of it.
Silence blanketed them without feeling as suffocating as it had been before. In fact, it felt inviting and peaceful. After what felt like an eternity, scratching began again and the note returned. He decided reading what he had written couldn't hurt now that they'd read it.
“Lately I've felt like I've been terrible since I can't articulate my feelings because I'm afraid you'll all abandon me. I can't take care of myself the way the rest of you can, and it's scary. I'm scared you'll send me to a facility. I'm terrified of physical contact because I enjoy it but it makes my skin crawl and I can't figure out why. And you're such touchy people and I don't wanna let you down, but I will if I keep down this path. I'm scared of how people will interpret my relationships with all of you. Because it's strictly platonic but people think we're more and that's scary.”
And their response shook him to his very core “That's okay. Your feelings are valid and I can help you get help without leaving the server. I don't think harming yourself is productive in the long run. You can set up anonymous therapy sessions where they don't know who you are if that would help. Or we can set something up here if that would make you feel better.”
“The first option sounds nice.” He spoke, voice cracking and his throat dry.
“I'll set that up for you.” Impulse responded tenderly.
“...Thank you”
“You're welcome buddy,” Impulse paused before adding, “Do you want help wrapping and cleaning your wounds?”
“If you're sure you're okay with that.” Grian stood up and yet again found blood rushing from his head, causing his arms to shoot out to get support from the walls, causing quite a loud thud. Impulse opened the door, concern painting his features. He nodded, trying to get his bearings.
Impulse gently grabbed his arm gently before leading him out of the closet and to the bathroom. Grian sat down on the toilet seat avoiding looking anywhere near Impulse or his injuries.
Impulse ran a cloth under water before softly running it over his arms. Impulse pawed through the drawers before finding the roll of bandages he always kept stocked. Oh so carefully Impulse dressed his wounds.
Grian did up slowly before latching onto Impulse in the tightest hug he could manage. Impulse quickly wrapped his arms around the smaller and cocooned him in warmth.
Grian grinned into the imp's shirt. He still wasn't okay, but he was better. Everyday was an improvement from the last.
Maybe everything would be okay eventually.