Brallon Oneshots

Calm (Alternate)

This version of the prompt has even more self harm, by request, so please don't read if it will trigger you or effect you in any way. Your safety and well-being is more important than you reading this oneshot. If you or a loved one is being sexually abused, please do not hesitate to call the National Sexual Assault Hotline:  1-800-656-4673. If you or a loved one is struggling with self-harm, the National Self Harm Hotline is 1-800-366-8288. You do not have to be ashamed, and you are not alone💜

I sat in the shower and harshly rubbed at my skin with a washcloth. I had been attacked in a grocery earlier that day. Some guy tried to kiss me, and he pinned me against the shelves, so I couldn't move. His lips were trailing up and down my neck and attempting to make contact with my lips. I was squirming and trying to push him away. I eventually kicked him off of me and ran out of the store. I felt dirty, scared, and just disgusting. My washcloth was beginning to rub my skin raw, but I couldn't bring myself to stop "cleaning" myself. By this point, I had already been in the shower for over 2 hours and was quickly becoming numb to the pain being caused by the rough cloth.

I had red patches of broken skin all over my body. Seeing myself like this made me cry even harder. I couldn't believe that I would even think of doing something like this. I hurt myself. I was hurting body and consciously allowing myself to do so. "God, what have I done to myself? How the hell am I bleeding?" I sobbed as I began to see little specks of blood appearing from under the washcloth. I knew no one was there to hear me, but it felt better to say it out loud rather than let the thought just bounce off the walls of my head with the empty suggestion to stop scrubbing.

Of course, a little blood didn't stop me. I had caused open sores all over my torso and legs before I realized just what I'd done to my body. I began scrubbing at my arms again when I brushed my leg against the side of the tub and winced at the pain. The water that had previously been perfectly clear was now tinted red with bubbles of the same color scattered across the surface. "O-oh my god!" I shrieked, trying to stand and exit the crimson tinted liquid.

My legs were far too weak after being attacked by a scratchy piece of fabric to be able to support me. I slipped and hit my head on the faucet of the tub and splashed back into the water. "Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit." I began repeating over and over. My head was throbbing, my skin was painfully burning, and I was alone.

I unplugged the drain of the tub and turned the water temperature to cold. I just sat in the tub and let myself be freezing. It made my sores feel a little less horrible. The washcloth was still floating in the thin layer of water surrounding me. I picked it up and threw it at the door of the bathroom in aggravation. All of the frustration that was built up inside of me would never be released to the point wear it would accurately illustrate the level of aggravation and pure disappointment I was feeling towards myself at that moment, and I knew that. At least, now I couldn't reach the washcloth to do further damage.

My breathing was out of control and my stomach felt like it was going to vomit up everything I'd eaten in the past week. Then, I heard my phone ring. Dallon always calls me when he's on his way home. Maybe it's him. I thought. I picked up the vibrating device with dripping hands to see Dallon's contact photo flashing on the screen. I answered the call. "Brendon is so sweet. I love him very much. He is the only one I want to see. Oh Brend- baby, are you okay?" He started to sing a goofy song to me like he always did, but I just sobbed louder. I could only imagine how disappointed he'd be. "Bren, sweetheart, are you okay?" He asked again. "I-I-I-I-" My mouth couldn't even form real words, just crying sounds. "Shit, Brendon, I'll be home in five minutes as long as no police officers catch me speeding. Please, stay safe." He promised. "D-d-don't s-spe-ed." I choked out, in a way that left the words barely recognizable. "Okay, baby. I'm going to hang up now, alright? I'll be home as soon as possible." Dallon assured me. "O-ok-k-k-kay." I replied. "I love you so much, Brendon." He swore and hung up the phone.

I was now not only feeling dirty and terrified of what I had done to myself, but now, I was afraid of what Dallon would say. He was on his way home, probably exceeding the speed limit. He would be so disappointed was he saw what I did to myself. He'd yell at me for the first time. He'd tell me I'm a maniac, I'm a psychopath, I'm a monster. He'll break up with me, surely. I couldn't imagine who would want a mediocre-looking idiot who scratches his skin until it bleeds.

"Brendon? Brendon, baby, I'm home! I'm coming in, okay?" Dallon shouts as I hear the front door open and him throw his bag down. He flung open the bathroom door and rushed over to me. "O-oh my god. Are you alright? Where does it hurt the most? How did this happen?" All of these questions had easy answers that I couldn't seem to vocalize through my crying. "Where does it hurt the most?" He repeated. I made a gesture to my whole body and pointed at my head where it was hit on the faucet. "Let me go grab a soft towel. I'll be right back." My boyfriend rushed off to get a worn towel and wraps my injured body in the fabric.

I was carried to our bedroom and sat on the edge of our mattress. "I-I-I'm s-s-orr-ry." I sobbed into his chest. He rubbed my back and continued whispering encouragement and sweet nothings in my ears. "Sweetheart, don't be sorry. I'm going to get ointment, okay?" I nodded. Dallon came running back with medicine for me. "Breathe, hun, breathe. I need you to calm down, so we can talk about this." He attempted to make me relax, but it had the opposite effect. "A-are y-ou gon-na yell? O-oh no, p-please don't ye-l-l at m-me. I'm s-so s-s-so sorry. Please, Dallon." I cried into his chest, whispering the last sentence. "I'd never yell at you, Bren. Here's a hoodie and a pair of boxers that were on the dresser. I just need you to breathe. In, out. In, out. Okay?" Dallon was letting his worried eyes roam over my scratched up shoulders and my tear stricken face.

Once I'd put on the minimal clothing, my breathing began to quicken again at the thought of Dallon leaving me and the thought of hurting myself again. "D-Dall, I-I-I can't b-breathe! Sh-shi-it! I-I'm dying! O-oh my god, I'm dyin-" I began to hyperventilate. "Baby, no. You're not dying. Breathe in on the count of three, okay? One, two, three. In, out. In, out. That's it, baby. You're doing good. I'm right here. In, out. Perfect." Dallon walked me through the steps of how to regain my composure as he slathered ointment on every wound I created. "I-I'm breathing. I'm fine. God, I'm so fucking sorry." I panted. "Come here, baby. There's no need to be sorry. I love you so much." He assured me as he placed a kiss on my forehead. "You missed." I slightly laughed. "I missed you." He joked back. "I'm going to kiss you now, okay?" He smiled, and I nodded.

Our lips connected, and my heart leaped. This always happened when he'd kiss me. I almost didn't realize his thumbs rubbing circles on my cheeks, and his lips forming a smile. I nearly missed his hair slightly falling in his face as we opened our eyes simultaneously. "I love you, Dallon. Thank you for keeping me in your perfect world." I spoke. "Baby, you are my world and perfect doesn't even begin to cover what you are." He grinned, placing a kiss on my nose.
___________________________A/N
This is an alternative ending to a oneshot requested by Alpha_Jayfeather who also requested the alternate outcome. The plot change was that Dallon didn't get home in time and Brendon did something bad to himself rather than Dallon getting home before Brendon hurt anything other than his arm. I'm glad you all seem to be enjoying these oneshots I'm writing! Thank you for all of the support.
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