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The house was quiet as the moon glowed in its dark sky, scattered with small dots of white. The house, however, was warm with an orange tint for light. John sat up against the bathroom door, silently sobbing as the AC covered up any of the noise. The white light above him flash banged his shone eyes with tears, making them sting more as he lifted his head from his knees that he brought up against his chest. He looked down at his left arm; it was only supposed to be a couple of cuts. From the wrist down, it was covered in crimson red that dropped down to the wooden floor. It was only supposed to be a few, small cuts, to have some sort of relief. But then it wasn’t enough; he needed more, and he needed them to be deeper than before. John didn’t know what he was doing then; he was in a blind, mental breakdown of a frenzy when he did it. But it was too late, no turning back down.
He would’ve been three months clean if he had waited another day or two.
”Hello John!” A familiar, forced accent voice could be heard through the thick wooden door, the voice that belonged to Matt. He had completely forgotten him and Smitty were visiting him today. John felt himself get lightheaded, both from the stressful situation and the blood loss he was experiencing. He immediately rolled up his grey sleeve to cover the cuts, watching as the blood slowly seeped into the cloth. He added pressure to stop the bleeding, but it just drenched it more as the cuts stung him.
John hissed under his breath, “I- um, hey bae,” He couldn’t control the wobbling in his voice. He sounded like he was on the brink of breaking. “Are you okay in there?” Another voice, with a much softer knock on the door, appeared; it belonged to Smitty. John didn’t know what to do. Should he tell them? Should he not? His head was spinning, and it was starting to pulse in pain with each passing agonizing second. He sighed, breath shuddering, teeth chattering, muscles trembling as he stood up from the ground. He turned towards the door, placing his right hand on the cold, metal doorknob. He gripped it tight, counting to three in his head to open the door.
One
John spoke again, "Promise you guys won't be upset, okay?"
Two
Smitty spoke first, "Of course, John, we're getting worried out here."
"We just wanna make sure you're okay," Matt added
Three
John twisted the knob and slowly pushed it open, creating a small crack so that they could only see one side of John's face, and slightly hide his left arm from the two Canadians' view. Smitty stood more in front of Matt, holding a bouquet of buttercup flowers, while Matt held a gift bag in his hand. They could instantly see his bloodshot eyes, still pouring tears down his blotchy cheeks, and the corner of his lip slightly twitching and holding himself from breaking down again. Matt first noticed the bit of his left arm that wasn't covered by the door and was drenched with blood, and droplets of it were on his white sweatpants. "John, are you okay?" Matt asked, dropping the bag on the floor as he walked up towards him. He softly cupped John's face, thumbs rubbing circles on his cheekbones as his eyes trailed down John's arms, seeing the blood-shooked sleeved, Matt almost believed it was completely black.
Smitty stepped in and slowly grabbed John's left arm, "Can I?" he asked. John swallowed, avoiding eye contact with the two before slowly nodding his head. Smitty slowly rolled up his sleeve, making sure not to hurt himself. John felt Matt's hands go loose on his cheeks as his and Smitty's attention was on John's fresh cuts. The few kitten cuts John gave himself had droplets of blood slowly seeping through the skin, but the deeper ones were pouring in more blood at a slower rate, with one of them straight vertically down. Silence hung in the air, and John didn't really like it; he wanted to hear something, anything! He couldn't stand being the one conguering up the things Matt and Smitty would say, if so, then he was sure that they were disappointed or hell even mad at him for relapsing. His eyes began to sting again as more tears came down, silently, sobs left his lips. Matt was quick to divert his attention infront back to John, holding him by the shoulders.
"Hey, hey, it's okay," Matt said, his voice much softer.
"I tried," John cried, "I really did this time, but I just couldn't."
"And we believe that," Smitty came in as he carefully placed the flowers down, "Trust us, we do, but our number one priority now is to make sure you are okay."
Matt nodded, "You wanna come out? We can help with the wounds in the bedroom."
John opened the door wider to step out. "The blades on the skin counter," he muttered between sobs before closing the door, but not fully. Matt entered as Smitty guided John to his bedroom. Both sat on the edge of the bed, with John continuing to cry as Smitty held him by the chest. "Don't worry," Smitty said, "We are here now." Matt returned with a first aid kit and a chair from the dining room. John slightly peeked over from Smitty's chest to see Matt, who had now removed his jacket and was wearing only a black tank top as he held a red plastic box. John sat upright, observing as the younger man opened the box and took out a few wet wipes and bandages. Smitty gently pulled him onto his lap, wrapping his arms around his waist, not with romantic intent but to provide a sense of safety, security, and comfort. Matt gently took John's left arm, saying, "May I?" John nodded, and Matt rolled up his sleeve to reveal the cuts again. He then tore open a wet wipe, cautioning, "This will sting; let me know if it becomes too much." John nodded again, his other hand grasping Smitty's hand that remained on his waist. He watched as Matt opened the wipe and gently placed it against his arm, carefully wiping away the blood.
The cooling paired with the stinging-burning sensation on John's arm made him tense up. "It's okay," Smitty murmured in John's ear before placing a kiss just below his earlobe, "It'll be done quickly." John never doubted them as they always seem to keep the end of their promises, whether big or small. Matt was gentle with the wiping, making sure not to touch too deeply into the cuts as he cleaned up any dried-up or fresh blood. It took about two packets of wipes to get most of the blood off his arms. "Luckily for you, this isn't anything too serious, and we can just put a few bandages on it and hope they heal quickly and nicely," Matt said as he disposed of the bloody wipes into the bin next to him, rolling a long line of bandage. John felt himself calm down as Matt wrapped his arm tightly with the kind of comforting pressure he liked to feel during stressful times like this. Paired with Smitty softly nuzzling the crook of his neck whilst John fidgeted with his hand grounded him more down to Earth. "And there go," Matt announces as he finished bangading him up, "All patched up."
John climbed out of Smitty's lap, looking down at his freshly bandaged arm. He felt so disappointed in himself now. He couldn't even cry from how tired he felt, just sigh.
"You feel any better?" Smitty asked as he placed a hand on John's shoulder.
"No," John says, "I feel disappointed. If I had waited just one more day, I would've been three months clean. But I just fucked it up for me, for all of us."
"And that's totally okay to feel like that, it's a totally normal feeling. What really matters is that you tried."
"And we'll never be upset at you if you relapse," Matt added, "We know how hard it can be, which is why we're so proud of you staying clean, even if it's something as little as a week. Because we both know that you put it all into those seven days. Plus, tomorrow is always a new day to start."
"So...you guys aren't upset at me?" John asked.
"Of course not! Why would we?" Smitty said
John thought for a while, and he truly didn't know why anymore. They seemed to always be here for him, no matter what; it wasn't like they were gonna leave him just because he relapsed. Maybe it was his paranoia and anxiety coursing and convincing him that they'd leave him if they saw how much of a depressed failure he truly was and didn't want to be around him anymore. "I just," he stuttered, "I thought you guys would leave me if you found out."
"John, we'd never leave you!" Matt says as he moves from the chair to sit to John's right, now having the two Canadians on each side. "Never, ever, would we leave you for the world," Smitty added, his hand resting on John's left thigh, "We love you so much, more than anything in this world."
"More than say...golf?" John asked playfully.
"Fuck yeah!"
John turned to Matt with a small smile, "More than say...minions?"
Matt jokingly turned his face serious, "Now you're pushing it."
They all laughed, John, feeling a nice fluttering feeling in his stomach that he hadn't felt in a while. He hadn't had a visit from the two for a while, leaving him by himself until the next visit. For those few days, it felt like the world around him was crumbling bit by bit. Despite taking his medication, getting a better diet, painting and drawing more, staying off social media less, and going outside more, he still felt like shit most of the time. But when Matt and Smitty showed up, it was like two knights in their shining armor. This feeling only showed up whenever he was with them, never with anyone else. It was a sensation only they could unlock within him.
Smitty and Matt then leaned into John, kissing him on one side of his cheek, making John quietly giggle at how ticklish it was whenever they both kissed him at once. They then held him by the waist, scooting in closer for a group hug. It was warm and fuzzy, and John wanted to stay like this forever. Until they all inevitably die. Until the sun explodes. Until they're just floating souls in a vacant void of an unknown universe. Smitty was first to pull away, saying he was going to put the first aid kit away and grab the gifts they had left. Matt and John moved to sit up against the headboard of the bed. John moved to lie on top of him and rest his head on his chest. Matt played with John's hair, massaging his scalp as Matt told him one of the hockey games he played, but John couldn't show up for. If it weren't for Smitty coming back with the gifts, John would've easily fallen asleep to Matt's massaging and silk-soft tone whenever he told stories.
John sat up, taking the flowers from Smitty's hand with a smile before settling them down on the bed and taking the gift bag. After some searching and many thanks yous from John, he had found that the two had gotten him a Minecraft Bumblebee plush (from Smitty), a minion plush (from Matt) five new rings, one of which had a resin flower as the gem, a bag of sour gummy worms, thin yarn as he's been needing to improded more of his clothes and a anniversery card (despite it not being their anniversey but John didn't mind). "Thank you guys," John said as he assorted his gifts on the bed, "Like, really, this means a lot to me." Matt wrapped an arm around John's waist, reeling him in for a kiss behind his ear, "Anytime, no need to thank us."
They stayed in bed talking for a bit before realizing how late it was getting, especially with how slow and droopy John's eyelids were now. They helped him sit up on the bed, taking off his sweater, which would definetly needed to get hand-washed if he wanted to keep it. They picked out some clothes John had in his closet that looked comfy before giving them to John for him to change into. They put the gifts back into the bag and the flowers into a vase in the kitchen before getting into bed. John slept in the middle, nuzzled into Matt's chest as Smitty turned off the last light on the nightstand. He felt Smitty settle back into bed, holding Matt by his waist to sandwich them all together tenderly. John kissed Matt on his lips before turning over and doing the same to Smitty.
"I love you guys so much," John murmured into Matt's chest, feeling himself already drifting into sleep.
"We love you too," Matt and Smitty said in unison.
And as John was about to fall asleep, he had never felt so seen. At first, he felt so alone, and that was something he always felt so pathetic about. Crying about having no one when he had two of the coolest fucking boyfriends he could ever ask for in his years of living. Having to self-inflict pain just to feel something and believe he's numb, but act like he hadn't felt butterflies in his stomach like a teenager whenever he was with Matt and Smitty. Feeling like he should end it all, as no one would even notice for a slight second when he had two people who'd die for him. Sometimes, John felt selfish about it, but he knew that they would always be there for him no matter what happened. Comforting him, entertaining him, keeping company just so he didn't feel lonely. It was amazing to see two lovers who'd do anything for him to feel happy again.
And with that, John fell asleep, feeling like the happiest man in the world.