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The knife glided over Uranus’ wrist, leaving a bloody gash where the blade made contact with his skin.
Fuck.
It hurt so badly, but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t stop. He’d tried over and over to let the blade go and quit, but it was no use. One way or another, he’d end up with blood on his sleeves.
The sharp metal met his skin yet again, slicing the tissue open with ease. Blood stained the blade, a faint metallic scent lingering through the cold air of his bedroom. A pained hiss escaped his lips, his lower jaw trembling.
He looked down at his bloodied wrists.
…Dear Andromeda.
The sight was quite the gruesome one—gashes criss-crossing his forearms, blood pooling in the open wounds.
Suddenly, the sound of the doorknob twisting caught his attention. His head snapped up as the door creaked open.
“Uranus?” Saturn’s voice came through the crack in the door, laced with concern. “You’ve been in here all day. What’s going on?”
The blade slipped from his hands, clattering to the floor. His lips were zipped shut, preventing the words from leaving his throat.
Saturn peeked into the room, gaze softening as he took in the sight of Uranus sitting against the wall, knees pulled to his chest and wrists covered in blood. “Oh, Uranus…” he muttered, moving to sit down next to his friend.
“I’m sorry,” Uranus choked out, tears—or in his case, diamonds—threatening to spill over. “I tried. I really tried. But—”
Saturn shushed him, placing a gentle hand on the ice giant’s shoulder. “Hey, hey… It’s okay. You don’t have to apologize. I know you tried, my friend,” he reassured, his thumbs tracing soothing patterns on Uranus’ shoulders and back.
Uranus let out a shaky exhale, gaze flicking between Saturn’s face and the scars on his wrists. He broke down in sobs, burying his face in his knees.
The gas giant’s eyes widened briefly as he watched his friend break down right before his eyes. “Oh dear,” he murmured, bringing a hand to his mouth. “Shh, it’s alright. I’m here with you.”
All Uranus could do at that moment was cry. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t respond—just cry.
“Um…” Saturn paused to think. “Here, let me help,” he dug into his pockets, pulling out a pack of tissues that he carried for emergencies. He gently pressed it against Uranus’ wrist, the blood soaking into the tissue.
Uranus winced as the tissue pressed his skin. “Ow…”
Noticing the pained hiss, Saturn pulled the bloody tissue away. “Did that hurt?”
“Mhm,” the ice giant nodded his head, sniffling quietly. He wiped his eyes with his free hand, diamonds falling to the floor with tiny clinks.
“We should go to the bathroom and, uh, clean you up,” Saturn suggested.
Uranus let out a soft sound of agreement.
The two of them stood up, Saturn leading Uranus to the bathroom. He flicked the faucet open, gently guiding his friend’s wrist to the stream of water. He rinsed the wounds, his touch careful and tender as not to hurt the ice giant. He pumped a bit of mild, unscented soap into his fingers, lightly cleaning around the area.
After cleaning, Saturn gently patted Uranus’ wrists with a soft cloth, occasionally looking up at the latter’s face, making sure he wasn’t in pain.
“Okay, is that alright?” the gas giant asked, his voice soft and soothing.
“Yes,” Uranus mumbled, nodding slowly. “Thank… Thank you.”
The corners of Saturn’s lips curled up. “That’s good,” he said, patting Uranus’ head.
“…Hey, Uranus?”
“Yeah?”
Saturn paused, searching for the right words. “I just want you to know that I’m always here when you need me, okay? You can tell me anything. I might not be the best at responding, but know that I’m listening. Alright? I know you’re trying. I still love you.”
Uranus felt his eyes tear up again. He threw his arms around Saturn’s shoulders, face buried into the crook of his neck.
“Thanks so much, Saturn.”