TGGBB Preferences and Imagines

Jordan*Scars

A/N:This is in no way trying to glorify self-harm. In anyway. Its never the right choice, never a good idea, and never what you should do. This doesn't promote it. Don't do it.

If you struggle with it please please please look up a local hotline you can use. Please talk to a friend, family member, or someone you trust.

Self-harm isn't just cutting, it comes in many forms. please never hurt yourself and if you do please try and stop. Don't do it for me or anyone else, do it for you.

"Napoleon was exiled to Saint Helena, a small island in the South Atlantic, 1,200 miles from the nearest land. Escape from such isolated incarceration-will you quit it?!" I looked up from the textbook, glaring at Jordan.

For whatever reason, I had agreed to study with him at his house. Now my bored, childish boyfriend had found some balloons, blown them up, and was playing keep the balloon off the ground. Jordan looked at me grinning, "this is more fun,"

"I thought you wanted to pass history,"

"No, my mum wants me to pass history," he said before diving on the bed to reach the balloon, "I want to join the circus,"

"Well you are a clown," I said, letting the balloon fall to the ground.

Jordan rolled his eyes, "Lighten up a little," he shrugged as I flung myself back, lying on his bed in defeat, "Escape from such isolated incarceration was reckoned to be near-impossible. Even so, numerous plans were hatched to rescue the exiled Emperor, including an audacious plan involving two early submarines and a mechanical chair." Jordan recited the book from memory, "I'm not stupid, just bored. Now do you want to play or what?"

I looked at Jordan, Jordan looked at me, I looked at Jordan. I stood up, grabbing the balloon and held it up with a blank face. Without saying a word, but with a sneaking grin, I hit the balloon with my other hand, launching it into Jordan's face.

I felt bad from his downstairs neighbours who had to listen to us jump from bed to floor to chair to stop the balloon falling. Well not bad enough to stop. I had just jumped on the bed, hitting the balloon away at the last second, only for Jordan to bang into his office chair and let the balloon drop.

Flopping down onto his bed, I said, "Loser," in my best arcade machine game voice. Jordan rolled his eyes ad went to pick up his chair. I sighed in content and laid down on his bed. My heart was beating from all the jumping and I could tell my cheeks were flushed. "Good game," I laughed.

"Yeah yeah," he said turning back. Jordan froze, staring at me.

I sat up on my elbows and looked at him, "You see a ghost?"

"What was on your stomach?" he asked quietly.

My hand flew to pull my t-shirt down. "Nothing," I shrugged, sitting up properly, "You okay?"

"What was it?" Jordan insisted. He walked over to the bed and I shuffled back, "What was it?" his voice raised a little.

"Nothing!" I almost yelled, "It's just- "I sighed, "Its nothing Jordan. Just a few scars,"

"Why- "he paused, "Why do you have scars there?"

The room was filled with an uncomfortable silence that hung in the air like a thick fog. There was a reason I never wore crop tops or low-rise jeans, despite low rise jeans being tacky, and why I wouldn't think about wearing a bikini.

"I um," it felt like my saliva had turned to glue and I couldn't get the words out, "Before you met me I was um going through some stuff," as I spoke Jordan moved to sit next to me on the bed, slowly as if I was a frightened deer, "And I went about it the wrong way and I tried to handle it alone and I couldn't cope," I cringed as my sentence ran on, "So I um did that" my voice was quiet at the end.

I wasn't sure if he heard me as we sat in silence. "So," Jordan started, "your self-harm?"

"Not anymore," I said it too quickly and he looked at me funny. I looked down, "Not for a while. Those are just scars."

"Did you want to kill yourself?" Jordan said, a tinge to his words.

"No- "

"Then why did you do it?" Jordan's voice stung me. "Why would you do that to yourself?"

"No one wants to do it," I snapped. I took a deep breath, "Back then I couldn't cope with everything so I began to self-harm thinking it would help."

"How would that help? How does cutting yourself help?" Jordan asked but I could still hear the anger in his voice.

I stayed calm, well as I could, "It didn't. but at the time I needed a distraction. If I couldn't control my surroundings, I could control myself. The pain would make me forget but then the pain dulled so I did it again and again till them cycle continued and I just got worse,"

"You're better now though?" Jordan asked, anger was gone and his voice small, "It's not something I did is it?"

"No Jordan. It's no one's fault," I said, "I'm getting better. It's hard to just stop but I am trying,"

"Why? Why can't you just stop? Your hurting something so...perfect. How can you do that?" He asked, looking up at me.

"Because I didn't think I was perfect, Jordan," I said, half sighing. I hated explaining it, "Its an addiction. You can't just quit smoking even if it's killing you,"

"But you are trying? Aren't you?"

"Yeah, yeah I am," I said, gently.

Jordan shook his head, "I don't get it," he said, and I saw his eyes watering, "I really don't. do you need anything? counselling or pills or something? Do I need to do anything different or?"

"Just treat me normally," I said, "I'm in a good place right now. My parents got me help, it's still hard and it will probably always be hard but just don't change for me. Please? I just want to be normal,"

"Yeah, of course," Jordan said.

We sat side by side. Jordan hesitated before slowly beginning to wrap an arm around me, "You're still allowed to hug me," I joked.

"Thank god." He said, wrapping me into a hug. "Please stop. Please,"

"I'm trying Jordan,"

"I am. I will,"

A/N: The reaction you get isn't always the one you want but don't give up. Somebody cares.