Work Text:
TW - HEAVY SELF HARM WARNING, DO NOT REPEAT ANY OF THE SELF-DESTRUCTIVE ACTIONS WHICH ARE MENTIONED IN THIS FAN-FICTION. PLEASE DO NOT OPENLY VENT ON THIS FICTION, YOU CAN SAY YOU RELATE TO IT AND EMPATHISE WITH THE CHARACTERS BUT IF YOU ARE STRUGGLING PLEASE REACH OUT TO A PROFESSIONAL.
Also I'm British but I'm using more American words to appeal to the Americans... EW AMERICANS! /jk
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The Apartment
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You opened the door to your shared apartment, eyes heavy as you slumped over, tears welled up in your eyes as you stepped across the creaky, wooden floorboards. You bring a hand up to your face, wiping away the tears as you let out a sob. God, was today really that bad? I mean your boss did scream out you several times, and you didn't get much sleep last night either. Despite sharing a room and apartment with Simon, you still struggled to go to sleep. Both of you have had different types of insomnia over your lives, especially Simon when he put on that weird ice crown.
As you walked through the hallway you could not hear or see any evidence that Simon was in the house, you got a bit anxious. Simon was normally home way before now! He never even send a message that he would be late, oh god is he okay? You began checking every single room frantically, pulling up covers, checking under beds. Oh, you longed for his touch in this very moment. Now, you two were never unhealthy or codependent, you would make sure both of you had space to breathe or be independent. However, today was different. You were in a depressive episode, you didn't know what to do. Everything was just so stressful and this was your breaking point.
You felt that nobody would understand you, oh such a worthless scum. Why couldn't you be better, better for him. You buried your head into the once-neat bed sheets and quietly cry into them, tears dampening the soft, cotton fabric. You didn't want to get up, you just wanted to stay here, so time could stop and maybe you could just rot away, and then you wouldn't have to go to work anymore, you wouldn't have to worry about it anymore.
You reluctantly pulled up your head from the sheets, staring at your wrist and pulling the clothing on your arm upwards. A collection of old scars, of all different types. The scars that Simon would draw stars around, to show you he'd still love you even if you were broken. Even when the pen would press a bit too hard on a keloid or hypertrophic scar, making the slightest bit of blood trickle, you'd still smile at each other. Because he didn't care about your scars, he was the ice king for fucks sake! But, it was also because he knew how it felt to be treated differently because of physical differences.
In his eyes, your scars weren't who you are but just a show of what you went through. A show of who those around you let you down.
Still, it wasn't enough to prevent the tragedy that was about to happen, you pushed your arms off your bed. Using all of your force, making your legs slightly trip over each other. Your vision was still blurred from the wet liquid pouring out from your eyelids. You propped your arm against the wall, panting as you began to stabilize your footing. You walked towards the bathroom door, leaving it unlocked. If Simon wasn't home then who would walk in, well maybe there is an intruder but that's only in movies... plus an intruder wouldn't care, maybe they'd mug you and that's it.
You opened the cabinet, rubbing the sleek-feeling wooden surface, it was one of the things you and Simon made for this place. You picked up a pill bottle, completely empty to the naked eye, but holding a dark, horrible secret inside. As you opened the lid it made a loud, annoying 'POP!' noise, making you jump back again. You dragged a hand through your hair, in an attempt to console yourself. You placed the lid down onto the side of the bathroom sink.
Inside of the pill bottle was a white, slightly covered in crimson, iron smelling dried liquid, tissue. You took it out, slowly unfolding the layers of tissue, some of the edges ripping, due to it being a flimsy material. Covered under all of the broken tissue laid a razor blade, glistening. You looked at it, hand shaking violently. A sob escaped from your throat before your grip on the bottle tightened as you threw your arm up, sending the bottle flying across the room, lying in the dry bathtub.
You broke down, folding your arms and placing your head in the small space, blade safely held in between your left hand. Do you really want to do this? Said the thought inside of your head. You have been clean for so long, it's so messy to clean up. Think of how your boss would react, your work uniform is short sleeved! Someone would be bound to notice, you wouldn't want to be seen as insane.
But you want this so much, the sweet stinging sensation of release. The feeling of loving your scars, being covered in blood. Like you deserve it. So, why are you like this, when you have improved so much. You don't deserve to feel like this, or do you deserve to feel like this. Whatever, your head is too cloudy to think. You pinch the blade.
You dragged it across your skin, whimpering in pain. Oh glob, how it feels to be... dirty? The blood spews out of the wound, trickling down into the sink. You raise the blade again, this time making it quick and hard. The blood comes out differently this time, splatting across your wrist. You smile, the tears dripping down your nose and onto your lip. You lick it, regretting it instantly. As you continue to cut and cut your skin, the pain gets more intense. Isn't this what you wanted, so why do you regret it now, and why won't you stop?
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"Oh my glob."
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Simon held the bag in his hands securely, walking back from the market. The plastic stretched from the weight of the objects inside the material. His feet pressed against the gravel, subtly kicking little pebbles off the ground. He approached the block of apartments, excited to see, you, his boyfriend after a long day of work and market shopping. He strolled along the path as he came to the front of the building, turning the handle of the doorknob as he emerged inside.
He made small steps upstairs, taking his time as the bag weighed him down. He entered the apartment, but it was a bit more messy than usual. He picked up a shirt that was lying on the ground. He chuckled, "Well, I guess Y/N is home." He paused, eyes narrowing. "But where is Y/N... I'll go look for him." Simon searched the whole house, every room apart from the bathroom. As he got closer to where you were he started to hear sobbing and pained whimpering. "Y/N? Y/N, are you in there!?" His fist knocked against the door. He heard no response. Out of pure desperation he swung open the door. You flinched, landing on the floor.
You scurried backwards, dropping the blade as it slid against the floor. Blood trickled down your wrists slowly dripping into the tiles. Simon gasped, he immediately lunged down to sit beside you, grabbing your shoulders firmly but not unkind. His face was one of pure horror, eyes wide, eyebrows curved down and a large frown appeared across his face. "S-Simon! I-I... I'm so sorry, I promised I swear I tried I didn't mean to- I didn't mean it! I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" Your voice cracked under pressure. Tears started to form from the corners of your eyes, reaching up an arm to wipe them. Simon's hand suddenly caressed your cheek, wiping the tears of you.
"My dear... No, no, no. Don't apologise. It isn't your fault, I'm here for you." Simon grabbed your wrist, assessing the damage. He opened the bottom cupboard right next to him, luckily the one he hoarded an unhealthy amount of medical supplies in. It had everything; scissors, needles, bandage rolls, plasters. He lifted your body up, there was quite a bit of struggle. Your vision was blurry and you felt the world was spinning around you but the comforting hold of Simon holding you up eased the feeling. He turned on the tap, set to a lukewarm temperature. He relocated your wrist under the tap, the water turning a light, cloudy pink as the blood mixed in.
He rubbed some soap around the wound, careful to not get any into the cut, soothing you a bit. Once the area was all disinfected he sat you down on the edge of the bathtub and snatched the bandage roll out the cupboard. He started wrapping it around your palm, touching your fingers and covering a bit of your thumb as it slowly made its way down to the rest of the injuries. As soon as they were all covered he cut the end off with some scissors before tucking it into the previous wrap.
He pulled you into a tight hug, holding on to your body like it was his one and only life support. "You can always ask me for help... I know it's hard, but please. Hold on for me." He buried his face into the crook for your neck. Minutes passed by endlessly, his only focus was you. After a few minutes of soft affirmations and your hands clenching into the shirt he was wearing. "I suppose we should get off to sleep now. It's been a long day hasn't it?" He stepped upwards, tugging you along. "Come on, lets get ready for bed."
You both got changed for bed, nothing much or flashy. Just a baggy t-shirt and some shorts. You laid down in bed next to him, shifting your body weight to face next to him. "Simon...?" You whimpered in the dark, asking if he was still awake. He turned towards you, rolling over and letting out tired 'Hm?' sound. "I love you, you are always here for me and it means so, so much to have someone like you in my life." You muttered, voice low and vulnerable. Hearing that, Simon just pulled you into his grasp again. Resting your head under his chin as your arms instinctively wrapped around his torso.
"I love you too, even if you have some issues, you mean a lot to me." He pressed into you tighter. Nuzzling the top of your head as his other hand ran through your hair. The night was quiet, moonlight shined through the window. It seemed like you two were the last people on Earth. And if you both could choose one person to stay with forever, you would choose each other. Because above everything, nothing could explain how you felt for eachother.