☆ Creek oneshots ☆

Damn stupid

Tw: self harm

Craig:

1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10

10 new marks litter my thigh. The blood seeps from them, slowly leaking onto my unharmed skin. I place the razor on my nightstand, and wipe the blood of of my leg. I don't bother to patch myself up anymore. I don't deserve it.

I lie in bed, exhausted, yet not able to get a drop of sleep. My thighs ache, due to the thin lines sliced into them. They even show because of the shorts I'm wearing. I sigh, and turn towards my window, looking out it.

I hate being alone, yet adore it at the same time. I don't like many people, so I'm used to not having company. Yet being alone... is a sense of dread.

Suddenly, I hear a knock on the door. I quickly change out of shorts and into pants, to hide my scars. I walk up to the bedroom door, and open it.

"Hey, Craig," a familiar blonde says. "Hello," I greet, opening my door and letting him in.

He looks at me, observing my face. "Craig... are you okay. You look awful...," he states, pressing his hand to my forehead.

I had large bags under my eyes, and my face was rather pale. "Yeah," I respond, letting out a small yawn.

"You need sleep-," he starts, but his eyes trail off. I follow his eyes to see where he's looking and... shit. I forgot to put my razor up. Not only that, but I forgot to clean it.

"Craig...," he pauses, "what is that."

His eyes are filled with sympathy and worry. "...," I don't say anything. He already knows, and there's no solid excuse. I look towards the ground.

He slowly reaches towards it, and picks it up. My fresh blood still drips off of it. He stays silent; staring at the razor. He examines it, a warm, red liquid dripping on his hand.

He looks horrified. "W-where," he asks. I don't respond. I can't respond. I take the razor from him and put it back down. He doesn't need to worry about me. I don't deserve it.

"Where," he now demands, his eyes brimming with the tears. "No where." I respond. He's dumb as fuck if he thinks I'm going to tell him.

He sighs, grabbing my sleeves and pulls them up. Nothing.

"Craig, I'm serious."

"So am I."

"Please, I'm worried about you."

"Don't be."

"Impossible," he sighs, placing his hand on my cheek softly, "Craig, I love you, and I can't lose you."

"I love you too," I responds, using all my will so that my voice, or face, don't falter. "Then show me, this is unhealthy, unsafe."

I sigh. He's really persistent, huh? "I won't tell anyone, I won't make fun of you, and I'll never bring it up if you don't want to again," he gently states.

"Fine," I sigh, I know he won't give up. "But turn around."

He does as I say, and I put on a pair of shorts. "You can turn back around," I sigh. He cooperates, and looks at me. Suddenly, tears start falling from his eyes. Yet, my face was still straight.

"W-why?" He asks, pulling me into a hug. "I deserve it," I respond, pulling him closer. "N-no! D-don't ever say that again!" He shouts, making me flinch. He grabs my razor and throws it away.

"Never do that again," he states, hugging me again. "I won't, sorry."

He's damn stupid if he'll think I'll stop. He's damn stupid if he thinks that's the only razor I have. And he's damn stupid if he thinks that's the only way of hurting myself there is.

That sucked- and idk why, but I like depressed Craig more than depressed Tweek-

Anyways——

Words; including bold: 632