BigLove ~ BigPuffer × Reader

Chapter Twenty One - My Truth

Content Warning:
Talk and Flashbacks of Abuse within a Relationship

Please do not read this is you're in a dark place at the moment.

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Clutching onto the duvet, you drag it down the stairs, pulling it into the living room. Flopping it over the back of the sofa, you bounce towards the kitchen. You feel very relaxed and joyful, looking forward to the night about to commence. Dragging a cupboard door open, you grab a couple of bowls, and two wine glasses. You place the bowls down on the side before taking the glasses into the living room, resting them on the coffee table. You turn the corner lamps on to flick off the main light, making the room feel more warm.

8 hours ago, your boyfriend found out he couldn't do his work for a week. Devastated and frustrated, the only emotions he can probably feel for the day. You have high hopes that you can change that, wishing that you have the ability to cheer your lover up. Your idea was easy to execute, and you had sent him out for supplies so he could decide. It was his night, the night where you'd relax together, duvet over the top of you, lights down low. Avoid him thinking about his problem is the end goal.

The front door swings open, Chris stepping inside. You approach the door, assisting him with the bags, "Pick a movie, I'll sort this out," you announce, sliding the bags out of his hands. He nods lightly, heading to the sofa before lowing himself down onto it, moving the duvet to the side. You rush into the kitchen, placing the two bags onto the side. You first pull the large bottle out, rosé. You enjoy rosé, but you know Chris loves it. You also grab a packet of Cool Original Doritos out, pouring them into a bowl. Another packet came out, with the alternative flavour of Tangy Cheese. You also pour them into another bowl, before taking them into the living room, balancing the wine bottle underneath your armpit.

He was resting on the sofa, scrolling through his phone, his head resting on one hand. It was still on his mind, and you knew that he won't be himself for a couple of days. You lower a bowl down onto the table, dragging the bottle out from under your arm, and placing the other bowl down. You twist the bottle open, tipping it up and filling both glasses half way. You grin at Chris, who has placed his phone down, and was watching you. He gives a light smile, picking his glass up and taking a crisp, crunching down on it slowly. You raise your glass to your mouth, taking a sip, before lowering yourself down onto the sofa next to him. Raising the duvet over both your laps, you hand him the remote. He accepts it, clutching it in his right hand, wrapping his left around you to pull your body towards him while he switches on a random film off of Netflix.

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You begin lightly trembling, not enough to alert Chris, but enough for yourself to realise. The movie contained an abuse relationship, petrifying you due to the trauma that filled your mind. You didn't inform Chris about this, he picked the movie and you don't want him to stop it for you. You had finished a glass of rosé already, and you had poured yourself another one. He had drank more than you, and ate majority of the crisps. You didn't mind.

The horrific flashbacks continue, causing tears to run from your eyes. You try to wipe them away subtly, pretending that something got into your eye. Your eyesight went blurry, your head started to pound, and your body began to increasingly shake. It got too much for you, yanking yourself off the sofa and running into the kitchen. You collapse to the floor, huddling into the corner, covering your face with your knees. Your mind was racing, you couldn't hear a single thing. You push your fingers through your hair, gripping onto your head like it was about to fall off. Tears pour from your eyes as if they were taps.

You're pulled into a deep embrace, your head being stroked with a large hand, a tight grip around you. The thunderstorm disperses slowly, as you clasp onto the torso, nails digging in. You had no intentions of inflicting pain, but the memories were corrupting your perspective. The torso stayed, the arms blanketing you. Hammers were bashing away at your head, everything overwhelming you.

"Y/N..." he whispers slowly, your body still, "I'm here, don't worry." You sink into his body, letting go of all your weight. Everything had calmed down, you just felt guilty. You never want this stuff to happen, but it does spontaneously. "I- I'm sorry," you stutter, still pushing all of your weight onto him.
"No need to apologise. C'mon, let's get you somewhere you can't hurt yourself more," he comments, carrying you ovrr his shoulder. You giggle lightly as he takes you into the living room, placing you onto the sofa. He wraps your body into the duvet, creating a burrito with you as the filling. "Do you wish to discuss it?" he questions, slightly on edge. You glance down, contemplating what you'd say. Tears form in your eyes, the memories relapsing.

"2 and a half years. The first couple of months was... normal. I think, I don't really know what normal is. It changed slowly, he started becoming more aggressive. Blamed it on work everytime... and I believed every single word." you sniffle, as you hadn't recited this to anybody since the police interview. He presses his arm against your bicep, supporting you. "He started taking it out on me physically, every night. Tyler found out... got to our house and dragged me out of there. Bought me a house nearby, I'd pay him back. The guy... kept trying to seduce me back. Texting me everyday, I never had the guts to block him. I'm surprised Tyler didn't murder him..."

Drops fall from your eyes causing Chris to wrap his arms around you.

"Have you blocked him now?" he questions, not pushing for answers. You carefully shake your head in his shoulder, causing the arm wrap to tighten. "It's okay, I get why you're struggling to block him. Does he still message you?" you nod, strong enough for him to feel. He lays you back into the corner, safe in your cocoon, before grabbing your phone and unlocking it. He turns the screen to you, searching for the messages. "Craig?" he asks, making you nod. He clicks onto the name, turning the screen away, and he begins scrolling, "Chris, please don't-" you request. He faces you, a serious but soft expression, "This is for your own safety. You don't know him anymore, he has no control over your life." Before you knew it, he was blocked, and the messages disappeared.

"It's also why I'm terrified of being alone in the dark. He wouldn't stop in public-" you had more to say, but you had lost all energy. Chris' glance also put you to a halt, as his gentle eyes watched you. You sigh lightly, sinking into the sofa cushions. "Thank you for telling me," he breaks the silence, his voice stumbling around.

"I'm sure Tyler would be proud."

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