(Y/N) - Fear **Self harm**

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Murderer.

That single word echoed through Fresh's mind.

You are a murderer.

He tried to ignore it all, just focusing on the halls he was traversing through. His pace quickened and he scowled with his fists clenched

Killer. You murdered them. You killed a man and you killed three more. You. Are. A Monster.

He wasn't mad at (Y/N) for directly calling him the one word that set off memories he'd rather forget like fireworks. No, he wasn't mad, but he was terrified.

You're gonna kill more people and you know it. Once a murderer always a murderer.

"SHUT UP." He roared, piercing rage breaking the silence. He never wanted to be Corrupted. No, the Corruption feeds him these horrible, horrible words he hated to hear whenever he was the most vulnerable.

You know it's true, dear #!&%&$@*^@, you murdered her in cold blood. You murdered all of them in cold blood.

"They deserved it." He scowled, fists clenched even further. "And that's not my name. Not anymore."

It's the name you were born with, your REAL name. Why don't you want to be called that?
Fresh just kept quiet, fangs bearing themselves in a feral snarl. "I'm taking a shower. And shut. Up."

After that, the voices went away. And Fresh practically threw open his bedroom door. He slammed it behind him and went straight to the bathroom.

He undressed and looked at himself in the mirror.

Scars. Scars littering his torso in deep, pale gashes. Scars that taunted him of his tainted past. Scars that reminded him of the pain he experienced.

There was one scar that stood out above all the others. One large, circular one in the middle of his torso. The one that hurt the most.

He sighed before stepping inside the shower

The hot, steaming water soothed his skin. Even his scars, although they had been healed for the most part, started to throb. The warm liquid sun soothed his heart and calmed him down. And his scars stopped throbbing.

The steam cleared his mind, cleaning the impurities away and letting it seep down the drain. It felt good, the warmth. The heat. It felt so, so nice.

It was like lying down in a summer field, being enveloped by warmth. Taking a nap in a flower patch, sweet scent of pollen in the air with a hat pulled over his eyes, chewing on a reed. He missed his sun greatly.

He missed being warm.

He missed being happy.

After cleaning his hair, he stepped out and slung a towel over his hips. He turned the ventilation on, and in the steam-filled bathroom, he used another towel to dry his hair, ruffling it like he would ruffle a dog's head.

After a while, he looked up. The mirror wasn't foggy anymore.
But he really wished that it was.

In the mirror, he expected to see a half naked man with horns, pink hair, one eye black the other pink, torso riddled with scars.

But that's not who he saw.

Instead, the man staring back was fully clothed in a pink tailcoat with a white shirt, adorned with a pink bowtie. His pink hair was styled similarly, just thicker and slightly wavy. Both his eyes were pink. There was no scar over his right eye. No horns.

His heart lurched at the sight of him.

And even though he just had a shower, he started to sweat.

||FINISHED|| Pink Roses (JSAB Fresh x Reader)Where stories live. Discover now