BBS One Shots

I Cut for the "Attention" (H2OVanoss)

Trigger Warning: Self harm and attempted Suicide

"Did you hear that Evan Fong was in the hospital this weekend?"

"For what?"

"Heard he cut a little too deep."

"Wow. Who would have thought."

"Why would he though? I mean seriously. How stupid is that?"

"It's weak I know."

"He just wants even more attention. Being the star sports everything."

"What better way to get that than to act depressed?"

I feel Evan shiver and shake beside me, causing me to grip his hand tighter. I cast glares over at the students who stare at us, my gaze immediately making them turn away. I pull him down the hall, a protective arm around his waist.

"Do you think I'm weak, Jon?" A small whisper asks from beside me, causing me to look at the small broad man.

His soft black hair was messy and dark bags have formed under his beautiful chocolate brown eyes. One who was once strong, loud, and obnoxious is now quiet, fragile, and small.

"Just ignore them, Evan. They don't know shit about you. As long as you know the truth, what they think shouldn't matter." I reply, getting silence for a moment.

"You didn't answer the question." He looks at his shoes as I sigh and stop.

I turn him to face me, lifting his face up to meet mine. I wipe away the tears that stream down from his eyes before answering.

"No, I don't think you're weak. You have problems and as much as I don't like it, that's how you cope. I think it makes you a whole lot stronger." I slowly grab his arm and roll up his jacket sleeves.

"Think of these as proof that you made it through the bad parts in your life and you're still here," I tell him, placing a gentle kiss on the fresh cut up and down his wrist.

He gives me a small smile and rolls back down his sleeve. It soon fades as he pulls his arm from my hand and just walks off towards class. Confused, I go to follow but is blocked and swarmed in the sea of students.

Please don't do anything regrettable, Evan.

*******

"Yes, hi. Our son has cut himself up his wrists. We believe he's just attention seeking but he's bleeding a lot." I can hear clearly what she's saying but I'm too dizzy to react.

"Why did you do this, Evan? Why?" I can hear my dad muttering as he applies pressure to my bloody arms with a towel.

My mother says a few more things to the 911 operator before hanging up the phone. She looks at me with pure hatred and disgust as she approaches us at the kitchen table.

"I told you, David. I warned you about this." My mother scolds my Dad but he shakes his head.

"Why are you blaming me, Stephanie? It's not my fault this brat wants more than he deserves." Dad barks at her and she scoffs.

I can't hear the rest because my blood loss is making me dizzy. What my mom said to the operator bounces around my skull relentlessly. My vision blurs as the door swings open, paramedics coming in with a stretcher. I black out before I can respond to much more.

I crack my eyes open, a beeping sound buzzing in my head. I'm in a pale blue room, connected to many tubes and wires. A curtain is on my right, blocking my view of the door. But beside me is a chair, filled by a boy my age.

He's staring at his phone, his light blue eyes trailing over the screen. His dark hair is styled messily on top of his noggin. He's dressed in pajama pants and a black t-shirt, a blue hoodie over it. Pierces decorate his left ear and right eyebrow. Just the sight of him is enough for me to crack a smile.

He notices me being awake, quickly pulling his phone away. I smile shakily as he takes my hand, kissing me repeatedly on the head.

"I'm so glad you're alive." He says, kissing my dry, cracked lips.

Can I say the same for myself? Am I really glad to be alive?

"He's cut himself for attention."

"It's not my fault this brat wants more than he deserves."

Everything comes flooding back and I feel dizzy again. I grip the side of my bed to steady myself, a strong hand on my back from Jon. He gives me a worried look.

"Evan are you okay? Evan?" I give him a slight nod, laying back down completely on the bed.

If Jon said anything else I couldn't hear, I'm pulled into a nightmare of memories.

"I'm not weak. I'm strong." I tell my mirrored self, standing in the school bathroom.

"I'm not weak. I'm strong."

"I'm not weak. I'm strong."

As much as I want to believe myself, all of the evidence is pointing at all the worse conclusions. I let out a small sigh, gripping onto the sides of the porcelain sink. Tears filling my eyes. On the side of the sink is a small silver. Square and sharp, the shines in the fluorescent lights. I stare at it, trying to recall why it's there. Why I put it there. What it's for. I turn to the mirror, wiping my tears away.

I do not want to be afraid

I stare at myself, my features hardening slightly

I do not want to die inside just to breathe in

I take a deep breath, unwrapping my hands from the sink.

I'm tired of feeling so numb

Instead, I wrap my fingers around the silver blade.

Relief exists I find it when I am cut

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Sad one-shots will be a theme for a bit, Sorry if that bothers anyone. Stuff like this I think is a good topic and it should be helped more than it is. Also fun fact: When Evan's mom was talking to the operator that is almost exactly what my Stepmom told the operator when she called the ambulance when I cut. I'm sorry if this triggers anyone and I will accept the hate comments if they come. But as always I hope ye enjoyed, and I'll see you all in the next chapter. Peace.

-MEOW🍍