CAL: One cut, two cut, three. Tears streamed down your face as the blood ran down your arm. A normal Thursday for you. “Y/N!” Calum yelled through the quiet apartment. You stood up and quickly locked the door and started to wash your arm. The blood just kept coming, though. You wanted to scream in anger, but you kept quiet and pulled your hoodie down hoping it wouldn’t bleed through. You unlocked the door and stepped out. “Cal!” You exclaimed hugging him. He pulled away after a few seconds. “Y/N, were you crying?” he questioned grabbing your arms to stop you from running. “Ow!” He looked at you weirdly. “I barely grabbed you.” Finally, it clicked in his mind. “Pull up your sleeves.” You shook your head quickly. “No.” He did it for you and gasped. “Y/N! You- i- you could’ve told me. I could’ve helped.” He looked hurt and you felt bad. “I’m sorry.” “How long?” He questioned. “Three years,” you stated pulling your sleeves down. “You need to stop. Your better than a blade.”
MIKEY: You have always had problems with depression, but you were also amazing at hiding it. One day, Michael and you were cuddling and watching a movie. He wrapped his arms around you. “I wanna lay down,” he stated. You went to move, but he laid on top of you. “Or this works,” you giggled moving your head to watch TV. He sat up and started tickling you. “Babe,” you giggled trying to push his hands away from your stomach. Your shirt slipped up a little and Michael stopped dead in his tracks. He started tracing the scars and then the fresh, new cuts. “Why?” His playful demeanor was suddenly gone. The smile washed away and now a sad frown was set on his lips. “I-Mikey, I’ve been doing it for years. Its not your fault. Its not the fans. I’ve suffered from depression since I was ten. It just got worse over the years,” you say sitting up. He eyes met yours. “I bet it’s gotten ten times worse since we started dating. Right, Y/N? Its my fault. I was stupid enough to believe the ‘I’m alright, Michael. You can sleep” or the ‘No, I wasn’t crying. I just rubbed my eyes.’” You grabbed his hands and held them in yours. “It’s not your fault, baby. Don’t say that. It has gotten worse since we’ve been dating, but I just said it gets worse over the years. Don’t blame yourself. Please.”
ASH: The boys had come over for a round of FIFA and food. It was a usual Saturday for you guys. You were sprawled out on the couch with Ashton as the other three played the video game. You were wearing jean shorts and a tank top because it was summer. Ashton had his hands on your thighs as he watched the boys. He absentmindedly ran his hands along your thigh. It hit a deep scar from a a couple months ago. He stopped his hand there and traced it before looking down at what the was. He met your eyes and then looked at the kitchen. You stood up and Ashton followed. “What’s this?” He asked pulling up your shorts to point to the mark. “A scar,” you mumbled. “And this? And this? Oh,and this? What about this? Huh? What are they, Y/N?” Ashton whisper shouted. You looked at your hands and kept quiet. “How long has it been?” He finally asked. You looked up and said,”About seven months. I haven’t done it since we became serious, Ash. I’ve quit. Because of you.” He couldn’t help but smile because of your explanation for quitting. “You’re cute, you know that?” He asked picking you up. You giggled. “You promise that you quit?” You nodded and stuck out your pinky.
LUKEY: You and Luke were over at your parents for dinner. It was their first time meeting him and it was going terrific. Everyone had finished their dinner and now you guys were just talking. “So, Luke,” your dad started once you got up to use the restroom,” you know Y/N does self harm, right?” This was news to Luke. He always believed you were this happy go lucky girl who would never think of harming yourself. “No,Sir. I didn’t know that,” Luke said with a hint of sadness in his voice. As you walked out, Luke was grabbing his jacket. You followed him out of the house. “What’s the matter?” You kept repeating. Finally you caught his hand and pulled him around to look at you. “Answer me, Luke!” You scream. “Why didn’t you tell me that you self harm?” He questioned. You looked at your hands. “I didn’t think it was a big deal,” you answered quietly. Of course it was a big deal. You’d be mad too if the roles were switched. “Not a big deal? Y/N, you’re harming yourself. You’re taking a blade to your perfect body. That’s not a big deal? Tell me what is so bad that you need to physically hurting yourself.” Luke had a couple tears falling and it broke your heart. “My body is not perfect, Luke. I have stretch marks, I have scars, I’m not ‘skinny.’ You don’t understand, Luke. Please don’t try to pretend like you do,” you said wiping away the tears from his eyes. He grabbed your arms and kissed them. “Then help me to understand. Please stop hurting yourself. Please,” he begged pulling you into a giant hug.
Credit to: herecomescliffoconda