||FINISHED|| Pink Roses (JSAB Fresh x Reader)

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

His reflection smiled at him, a wide, happy, innocent smile that radiated warmth and joy.

But all the reflection got was a snarl.

Fresh struck the mirror with such force that it almost cracked. His fist trembled as it pressed itself on the reflective glass like an overaggressive fist bump

His reflection just gently pressed his hand on the same place Fresh's fist was. There was no malicious intent in him. Just warmth and kindness.

"Get out of my sight." He snarled, fists trembling more.

His reflection just cocked his head sideways, closed his eyes and smiled.

Then it spoke.

"It's okay."

But that seemed to be the final straw for him, as in a pink blur and a monster-like roar, the sound of glass breaking filled the room as reflective shards flew out in all directions, raining down and covering the floor. Fresh's hand, which was still pressed against the wall where the mirror used to be, had stains of pink on the sides.

He wanted him gone.
He wanted him gone he wanted him gone he didn't have the right to show his face around here he hated that smile that smile bought back so many memories he'd rather forget just go away just go away just go away JUST GO AWAY JUST GO AWAY PLEASE JUST DIE PLEASE JUST DIE PLEASE JUST DIE

But above all the anger, above all the pain...

Was fear.

Fear.

Fear, like the black, cold talon of doom that closes around an eagle's prey.

Fear, like the silent hyperventilating of a woman being stalked by a murderous killer.

Fear, like the magical substance that turns your knees into jelly.

After his heartbeat had settled and his adrenaline levels decreased, he finally took in the whole entire situation. There was a blinding pain in his fingers, and when he lifted them up to his face, he saw shards of mirror stuck in his knuckles. Blood trailed down his fingers and down his wrist. His blood was pink. It felt warm against his touch but as it dripped down into the sink he realised just how hard he hit the mirror. Pink tainted the pure white porcelain. It made his blood boil. In anger or in fear, he didn't know. His other free hand started to tremble as he tried to clam his breathing.

"Ah shit." He swore under his breath.

He returned back to his room, and after pulling out the shards, he just collapsed onto the bed, too tired to even bother patching the wound up.

And staring at the wall, he eventually felt tired.

The ghosts of the emotions in the bathroom still played at his mind, but he then felt a wave of sleepiness overcome him.

And then he got woken up.

The sweet nectar of sleep was snatched from him, waking him up with a jolt. What time was it? Three? Four? His eyelids were sewed shut with sleep.

When he looked up, muscles still not fully awake, he saw a light coming from his bedside table. A loud tune played at full volume as well as a vibrating sound that echoed though solid wood. It was his phone.

He groaned, rolled over and reached for it. He checked the caller ID. Butterfly.

What does (Y/N) want at this hour?

He checked the time and it was like, four in the morning. He'd been sleeping for two hours.

"Wazzit...?" He mumbled as he pressed the phone against his ear, eyes closed. "Izz like four AM righnow..."