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It was agony. The light that draped against you deepened the shadows, this angle making the proof of your suffering evermore visible. Your digits tracing along the stories you wrote in braille many sundowns ago, the memory of each one echoing within your mind. Your fingernails tugged against your textured skin, trying to alleviate the itch knowing it would only make it worse. And it hurt how an odd desire wove itself through the hallways of your brain, making you yearn for the velvet mess and the aching and the healing. How your scars began treating you like a stranger, hiding away, slowly joining the rest of your skin. It felt like their growing absence was a mockery of your misery. And that once they would be able to camouflage successfully, you were a fake.
And they ridiculed you, diminishing all your emotions to valueless and, simply, not true. It only angered the hunger within you to leave behind more wounds. You were so tempted, every moment that your brain wasn’t occupied, immediately got swayed away by these urges. Everything in you begged for this, you wanted it—you needed it. It felt like it anyway.
And yet, you hadn’t. Even as your wishes held you by the neck, strangling out shallow screams and bitter tears. The only thing that stopped you was … Sylus.
Not directly, you hadn’t been open about these feelings with him. He was aware of your past, he’d touched and kissed your tainted skin many times, insisting his love onto you. And it was sweet, and he’d never want you to hurt again, and it was just so frustrating. A seed of unwanted resentment sprouted within you, sometimes making you feel angry at him for being unable to hurt yourself. How he cared so much, how he wouldn’t approve even though it felt like the only thing that could help you. How cutting yourself was more desirable than talking to him about your feelings. It wasn’t fair, you knew that, but rationality wasn’t too fond of you during these times.
So, you spent days after weeks dwelling on this wish. Until you didn’t, and you listened and you acted on it. You didn’t think Sylus had noticed, but he was almost scarily intuitive or just very perceptive. However, this time was different.
It was a dimmed evening, you craved a fruit bowl as of late and offered to prepare one for you and your lover. He gathered a comfortable setting in the living room, choosing what to watch and bringing whatever you might want.
A harmony of slices followed behind your working hands, swiftly and almost mindlessly. The hiss of every chop getting louder, your mind reminiscing on what you’d done just the night before. How the smooth silver glimmered so pretty, like a solicitation to let it decorate you even further. You’d already gone through the watermelon, pineapple, grapes and kiwi, now slicing the strawberries.
Maybe it was the tint of ruby they were, maybe it was how cleanly they cut, maybe it was a combination of both that aroused the part of your mind that was addicted to your mutilation. Either way, your focus blurred, your caution withered away, and your finger was too close to the knife’s edge and—
You winced, immediately dropping the cutlery, seeing the gash at the tip of your index. It throbbed dramatically, making you feel your pulse far more vividly. As soon as you reacted, Sylus had too, heading over quickly.
It wasn’t like him to panic, he could handle seeing your hand wet from your veins spilling. He also saw you stilled in the same spot, pinching at your fingerprint, and how you turned to him as he held your shoulders. He placed you upon the sink, running water as you let it rinse the blood off. “Stay here.” He said, then left for a first-aid kit.
Your boyfriend searched within the drawers of your bathroom, finding the red and blue box at the very bottom. But as the yank of his hand was rough, it shook the rest of the drawer, pushing down an eyebrow razor. He could’ve ignored it, but he noticed it was tainted with something unusual.
Sylus recognized the pink handle of the tool as he picked it up, inspecting the metal. And what he saw? A splotchy line of darkened, wine colored substance, obviously not his.
You’d done it again.
But there was a more urgent wound to treat, so he dropped your used blade and hastily shut it away, rushing to you instead.
After bandaging up your injury, his fiery, scarlet gaze bore into you even heavier than usual. He left you on the couch to rest and wait as he returned the first-aid, using that as an excuse to make sure his vision hadn’t failed him.
Sadly, it had not. The sight filled him with dread, it drooped along his ribs, cold yet burning, clingy yet loose. It was sticky and dense, had he been too busy to realize? This must’ve been recent, the blood hadn’t rusted, so there was still time to catch you before you’d teeter too far into a cycle again.
However, he wasn’t to confront you now. Sylus was a patient man, understanding and reasonable, so he’d easily given you the benefit of the doubt. Maybe you were planning on sharing this eventually, how could he know? Making you uncomfortable with accusations was a risk he wasn’t favorable of. So, he joined you in the living room after getting done with the fruit bowls.
Everything went as normal, the night ending with your bodies tangled together, embracing tightly. As the days went on, your expected confession hadn’t arrived, and it concerned Sylus. His instincts were tugging repeatedly, trying to convince a move out of him. But he just wanted to trust you more than anything. To believe that when he’d found out about this at the beginning of your relationship, your reassurance hadn’t gone in vain and you’d reach out. To doubt your strength was to insult your character, so he waited.
And it felt like his patience was too thick, because what he feared most was what happened. Two days after your finger injury, your hands trembled from adrenaline, bright red reflecting against your pupils. This time you’d gone deeper than before and it was a rush that almost scared you with how salivating it was. The day after you weren’t sure of the trigger, maybe there was none at all, it could’ve just been a need to taste it again. You waited three after that, having to give into desire, your skin tender and burning.
And even though Sylus hadn’t noticed how the urges bothered you before, he was aware that you’d acted on them now. His idea that giving you time would be a better option was a horrible misconception. Feeling a hot sensation of guilt swelling inside his chest. He begged himself to not think poorly of you, to not think he overestimated you. Seeing as your limbs became enveloped in longer clothing, swallowing back tears as your affections were less passionate, hearing the excuses for your actions. It all hurt him.
But it couldn’t be anything compared to what you must’ve been feeling. Just knowing there was a mental torment thrashing against your brain was enough for pain to seep into the calcium of his bones, aching heavily. Sylus was so conflicted, should he wait until you confess and remain a spectator for the time being, or should he try to stop you knowing there was a chance of making it all worse?
He searched through the file of ideas in his mind, finding one that seemed somewhat promising.
As you gathered your clothes, he stepped in the room cautiously, rehearsing the script in his mind, “Are you going to shower?”
You hummed affirmatively, back turned to him, “Can I get in with you?” His voice was casual, sounding like any other request without extensive reason. And while your first thought would be to say yes, this time all you felt was a sharp crackle in your chest. Popping like a soon to be shard of glass, the crystals squeaking in weakness. “Oh,” You turned to him, “I was thinking of shaving today so, I’ll probably take a while, actually.”
It wasn’t a direct no, but neither was it a yes. Just the posture of your mood radiated rejection, and Sylus could see this. He could push at this, insist that it’d be fine and that he could even help you, but it wasn’t like him. Accepting this, he hummed, “Okay. I’ll be waiting then.” His soft grin followed behind as he walked out.
You hadn’t been intimate recently, and that would be his next opening but it felt like the moods would collide too poorly. He could suggest going on a swim, maybe just a dip in the hot tub, that could work. But, that also didn’t feel right…
Screw it. Directness would be the better way. The only way.
You’d been out on an errand, alone as you insisted it’d be quick, nothing to bother him with. As much as he wanted to deny it, he only nodded and kissed you goodbye. This would be his chance.
Sylus wasn’t comfortable with snooping, he respected your privacy, but he could bend his rules for that now. He had to. Though, he turned up empty handed when the drawer didn’t include another one of your razors. So, he decided to search through your belongings instead. Your bedside drawer held nothing, your bag didn’t either, much less did your dresser. Where the hell could they be?
Sylus felt close to accepting defeat, to prosecute you without evidence. Which, really, he didn’t need. You wore it yourself already, but having the tool for it would guarantee you no escape. He traced the indents of his hands, sitting on your side of the bed, thinking as rapidly as he could. And then, he saw it.
Analyzing the open closet, seeing your shoes, noticing as the old, almost forgotten pair, had been misplaced. The laces were tied, unlike before, and he could just tell they used to be closer to the rest. He knew as he had a habit of staring at you, including your things. No real reason, just admiration.
He lunged towards the pair, laces becoming loose and finding several, misused blades. All cleaned, maybe these last times you were less thoughtless. And while your boyfriend originally felt a sense of accomplishment, it expired almost immediately, as he was right . You were hurting yourself.
So bittersweet.
Once you got home, he wasn’t in view. No big deal, you approached the kitchen, setting your things down. Then he walked in, startling you.
“Oh—Sylus, you scared me.” Your chuckles were so soft, almost enough to not do this.
He skipped the ritual kiss and hug, instead just sliding his palm against your arm, almost loosely pulling you towards the kitchen island. You followed his touch, confused yet subconsciously knowing what would happen.
“I know you’ve been hurting yourself again.” You heard a rattle against your ribs as your heart plunged to the bottom of your core. Did he really just say that?
There was little reaction from you, only an opened mouth and widened eyes, “What?”
“Please don’t do that. I know.” And though you heard his words just fine, the clank of thin metals landing against marble cried much louder. Your fearful eyes tried to fight against the reflex, to immediately look at the source, but they couldn’t. In an undoing fist, Sylus had set your blades on the counter, leaving you optionless.
Suddenly, your skin was stiff, contrary to your slushing insides, “How did you—?”
“—You’ve made it a bit obvious. Baggy clothes, less intimacy, being distant. I pay attention more than you think I do.”
You could feel the wall of liquid build behind your eye sockets, every inhale feeling like your throat was closing up, “I—” Sylus’ chest hurt from hearing your shaky gasp.
“I’m not mad at you, I hadn’t said anything because I hoped you’d tell me on your own. But I just couldn’t stay put and watch anymore.” His sigh was dense, looking away for a moment, searching for the right words. “I’m only confused,” He approached you from across the counter, slowly reaching out to hold your hands.
All he felt, all you feared, all you hoped to prevent, was oozing from his irises. “Why didn’t you talk to me?” He whispered, and you could hear the emotion behind his breaths.
Your guts were heavy, your heart’s song almost seizing, “I’m—I don’t know. I wanted to but I just couldn’t help it.” He held you closer as your back began to curl in, holding your head against his chest.
The wind sharpened through his teeth, the soft shushing comforting you as you begged yourself to not cry.
It wouldn’t matter if you did or not, his arms being shield enough for whatever would come your way. Sylus pulled away, only to pinch your chin lightly, tilting your head to meet your eyes with his. One palm resting on your shoulder, the other switching to pet your cheek, “It’s okay. It’ll be okay. Let me assure you that you’ll never feel as stuck as you have now to make you turn to this again. Please, let me be here for you?” The roughness of his surface, from his face to his hands to even the bottoms of his feet clouded away into unimaginable softness.
It hurt so lovely, so deeply. For your dear heart to beg of you to allow his help, without pressure. Acknowledging you as you were without anger nor judgment. For someone so capable to be so ‘cruel’, so feared , to be pained by your hurt and hurt by your pain. Here stood such a powerful reminder that you had and always did have him. Your Sylus.
You nodded and you shared a sigh of relief.
And moments breezed, sentiments were exchanged, you understood each other better with sweetness in your mouth. Sylus trusted you could be cautious enough to cut up fruit for you two, but he wanted to take care of you. Even slicing strawberries like the ones that jogged your memory before.
“I’d assume the fading would be a good thing, if you were ashamed of them, that is.” He commented.
“Yeah, I know it doesn’t make a lot of sense … but something about it just feels.. bad . Makes me feel like I have to do it again.” You explained, sitting across from him on the couch, enjoying your bowl of fruit. “As with most things, it’s alright.” He chuckled.
His smile, as similar as his sly grin, was only so sweet by his eyes. Shimmering with endearment, even after knowing you to do such things, you were still dazzling in his view. Your soul, beautifully rich in everything that made you, you , and all of what pushed him to be better. Sure, you had scars, and of course you had struggled before, and you definitely weren’t perfect. But he was the same.
All the rough edges he had, you caressed them anyways. All the quirks caused by what he’d experienced, you embraced without hesitation. All the hatred he’d gone through, you never re-enacted. You accepted him as he was, without exceptions. So, of course he’d do so for you too.
Never worry, you’ll always be accepted and appreciated by Sylus much farther than you think you are.