Pink Lemonade🌼 {LAMS}

{Vanilla Twilight}

Oops my hand slipped//

Tw: Self harm, self hatred, etc.

It was cathartic for John to cut himself. He did it often, but rarely did he give himself deep ones. He preferred to not die most of the time. It was his coping mechanism. Not that it was a very healthy one of course.

The brunette stood in his room, in front of his mirror. His curly hair was pulled back into a low, messy ponytail, and he wore a black tank top with some sweat pants. The boy never cut on his wrists, oh no. He would never tell anybody that he actually did it. Only three people knew, and none of them were at his apartment. He took a breath, glaring at his reflection.

The only thing he liked about himself were his freckles. The way they splattered his face, shoulders, and chest, so elegantly, as though the gods had put them there purposefully made him smile. But nothing else about his body did.

He hated his weight. Sometimes he felt too fat. Others too scrawny. He was constantly at war with it, and could never come to terms. His arms were too short, legs too long. Shoulders too broad and eyes not the right shade of brown. The more John would look at himself, the more he hated his body. Even if no one else thought that.

John had retrieved his razors from the bathroom shelf, desperate for the feeling he got by cutting. He sat on his bed, pulling down the sweat pants to reveal the healing scars from not too far back. He took a deep breath and began to slice.

One. You aren't good enough.

Two. Alex never loved you.

Three. Why are you so dumb?

Four, Five, Six. With each cut he watched red droplets form, spilling over his leg beautifully. With each cut, he also went deeper.

Seven. Alex wanted to cheat on you.

Eight. No one could ever love you.

John stopped counting after Nine. His vision blurred, and he didn't realize he was crying until the razor was yanked out of his hand. Strange, he had thought. I didn't even hear the door open.

Before he knew what was happening, his tears were wiped away and someone was holding him. Why is everything so spacey? John couldn't figure out what was going on. He felt like he was underwater.

A few seconds later his senses came back. Alexander was holding the brunette as tightly as possible, muttering sweet nothings in his ear. He felt a stinging in his legs and looked down to see Lafayette shakily wrapping his wounds in gauze.

"L-Lex?" The younger man just held him tighter, and he could feel the tears falling onto his head.