Info: Tig and you have an ongoing flirtatious relationship. Neither of you would make a move. One night, Tig comes to see you only to see what he would last wanna see on the woman he loves so deeply.
Warnings: self-harm tw, depression tw, swearing
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"Hey, doll, when can I get some of that?" Tig asked you as you walked past him, referring to your ass.
"When you decide to make a move, Trager!" You said back to him, keeping up your pace to the office.
"Why don't you already?" Jax asked Tig.
"She doesn't want anythin serious. You hear how we talk, that's all high school teasing friendship kind of thing. You and Tara, that shit is real" Tig shook his head, doubting you'd ever want him.
"Then talk real with her, dick head. It ain't hard, especially you Mr. charismatic"
"Let's use smaller words here, Jackson" Tig motioned for him to slow down with his hands.
From inside the office, you were watching the two of them talk. Lowering your reading glasses to see them better, not doing your paperwork. Seeing him daily was a pain, hearing the things he said was worse. Everything he said was something you wanted but couldn't give into.
"Hey, baby, what a—oh, watching that damn Trager again" Gemma stomped in, closing the blinds to get you focused.
"Hey, I was watching them!" You laughed.
"Talk to him, stop starin like a freak. He clearly wants you, so let him have it"
"I would, I just got other things goin on right now" you mumbled, thinking about last night.
You bent over the sink after the blade sliced your skin. It hurt but in the hurt you craved kind of way. Watching the blood drip and go down the drain. Going again and again as if your arm was a piece of paper. Hating yourself for being the way you were. Cutting to cope and then hating yourself for your cutting and then cutting to cope but then—it never stopped, it's a vicious cycle.
It felt good, the sting, not everyone understood it. Tig, he wasn't one of those people. Tig was all jokes and this wasn't any light shit that you carried. You felt the healing cuts run against your cardigan.
"You know what, maybe I will. For shits and giggles, why not?" You shrugged.
*****
Tig had agreed to come over. You were meeting at your house, somewhere you felt comfortable. Being nervous about this didn't call for an unknown meeting location in public.
This would just be a real laid back night, pizza and a movie. No work, no cars, no pressure. In your sweatpants, tank and cardigan you waited.
Waiting didn't consistent of just sitting though, no. It consisted of you cleaning the kitchen over and over. Making sure everything was set right, in their spots. The table was clear. Lining up your few pairs of shoes in a neat row at the door. It helped your nerves somewhat.
When the door rang you shot up straight. Pushing your hair out of your face and buzzing Tig in the apartment. Opening up the door for him to come in. He wore pajama pants and a hoodie.
"Didn't know you owned anything other than jeans and your kutte" you commented.
"If I'm not wearing those if prefer to be wearing nothing, but unfortunately you aren't into that" he shrugged, placing his shoes near your.
"You don't know my mind, asshole" you walked into he living room, prompting him to follow.
"Then tell me. What goes on in that pretty little head of yours, doll?" He say down, him promoting you to follow him this time.
"Nothing you wanna know" you smirked, trying to push away the deeper conversation.
Tig didn't miss that change in your eyes when he said so. He saw the way you had almost thought of something and then pushed it to the back of your mind. He took you hands in his and looked you in the eyes.
"Talk to me, y/n. All jokes aside, I care about you," he ran his fingers from your palm up your wrist, feeling the scars. His face dropped, you had totally forgotten, so lost in the moment. Lost in the chance seeing that you could have opened up to him, finally "don't tell me this is what I think it is"
You tried to take your arm back but tugs fist wrapped around your wrist, locking you in place. You cursed to yourself, you were fucked. He rolled up your hoodie sleeve and saw the red lines. He dropped his head back, looking at you "y/n, oh, y/n, why doll? Why?"
"It doesn't matter why" You cried, wiping tears with your free hand.
"It does, if you're hurt, I am too, baby doll" he kissed your wrist, keeping eye contact.
"I hate myself so much and this just feels right. You wouldn't get it though, that's why I don't say anything. You're so happy all the time, always with your boys. I'm so alone," you shook your head "you aren't a guy to get this, to get me. That's why we won't ever work"
"You don't know what I deal with in my head, doll. Like I don't know what's in yours. That's why in relationships people talk, open up in the one they trust. And I'm willing to trust you, be there for you and all your dark shit baby" he poured his heart out.
"I will too, I need someone" you cried as he pulled you into his chest in a hug.
