🍁 Precious 🍁

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Angst requested by: ErikaKuznetsov

Warning: This angst in particular contains mentions of self-harm and suicidal thoughts. Please do not proceed if you cannot handle these kinds of things.

Thank you and stay safe!

Yet another shitty day at school. The same shit every day of course.

The same weather.

The same people.

The same emotions.

You had enough. You were done. You wanted better. You knew you couldn't.

So, what was the point?

Of course, you had your friends, or rather, the people who treated you like family whenever you felt like you didn't have one. But your parents seemed so loud and annoying nowadays. You were done.

So, after school, after you walked home through the door, after you more or less greeted your parents, after you did the same exact thing every fucking day.

You went into your room.

You turned on your light.

You reached into your bedside cabinet.

You pulled out a knife.

You sat on your bed, rolled up your sleeves, and proceeded with your daily dose of cutting.

It helped you cope, it helped you express your pain, it helped you control yourself to not do anything rash.

You watched half-heartedly as warm blood trickled down from your cuts.




With every slash, you would count them. Sometimes it would help. Sometimes it would not. When you felt dizzy or too tired to cut more, you would finally clean the knife, hide it, and go to bed. Maybe if the blood bothered you enough you would clean your cuts as well. Maybe though.

Suddenly, you heard a knock on your bedroom door.

You panicked, wiped away your tears, and covered up your arms.

"(Y/N)!" Your mom called outside the door, "Norman is here to see you again!"

You took a deep breath. Why him of all people? The one you admired most. The one you loved most.

"Alright. He can come in." You sniffled and tried to keep yourself as composed as possible.

"Hello (Y/N)! How are y— woah." Norman suddenly stopped and stared at you. Your heart stopped.

"Why is your sleeve so red?" Norman inquired.

"O-Oh. I must've spilled some tomato sauce earlier.." you inspected your sleeve, but accidentally came in contact with your arm and you winced in pain.

Norman rose a brow.

"Well uhm so why did you come? Did you need something?" You looked nervously up at him.

Norman's (unfortunate) curiosity stayed on your sleeve. "Well..."

He suddenly rolled up your sleeve to reveal your cuts. You gasped.

"(Y/N)!" Norman yelled.

"Norman! Shh-" You we're interrupted when Norman quickly pulled you into the bathroom and closed the door. He laid your arm gently on the ridge of the sink. He opened the cabinet, got out some cotton balls from the medical kit, and proceeded to gently dab your wounds with water and soap.

You hissed as the soap caused your wounds to sting.

"I'm sorry, (Y/N), but I have to clean them out or else it would hurt even more."

"Uhm... Norman?"


"Are you... ok?"

"I'm fine.." he mumbled. "Okay, I'm done."

"Norman.. I'm so sorry, I-" you stopped when he suddenly wrapped his arms around you and he cried into your chest.

"(Y/N)... why... why would you hurt yourself?" Norman sniffled, looking up at you with teary eyes and a quivering lip. Your heart sank at the sight of him.

"It helps me handle the pain." You admitted.

"Isn't there some other way?? Never harm yourself again! You're too..." he trailed off, looking down at your arms.

"Too... what?"

"You're too precious... to me..." Norman sniffled again before crying into your chest again. You blushed.

"Hey, does that mean-"

"Of course! I love you! I don't want you to hurt yourself again, okay? Promise me!"

"I promise. Norman.." you frowned, "I love you too. Just please stop crying." You gently wiped his wet cheeks.

You both held each other, as if you both could disappear. You stayed that way for a while, until Norman talked through your problems with you, and for the rest of that night, you both cuddled watching anime.

The end.


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