krii7y has taken over my life

drip drop📚

After a few seconds to compose himself, he pulls his hand away to speak up to his roommate.

"I'm f-fine, Smit, no n-need to worry, ab-out me." his voice start to peatier out at the end of his sentence, stuttering through some words and his voice cracking at others.

"You don't sound fine," His voice was more firm this time and it made John whimper lightly, "I just want to help you." he sounded softer than before, taking a more sad tone as opposed to an annoyed one.

John took a few seconds to breathe, not wanting to get up from where he was and show Smiity what he had done to himself, not yet at least.

"I'm fine, Smit. I'll..be......fine-" he trails off, his voice getting weaker and weaker as he continued his sentence, and when he looked down to see the blood staining his pants his breath hitched and he immediately stood up and walked to the door before hesitating to take the handle. After a beat of silence, John reached out and grabbed the door handle, opening it to peak out while still hiding his arms. "Promise you won't be mad?" his voice is soft and scared.

"Why would I be mad? John, you didn't?" His eyes drifted lower on the doorframe to where Smiity's arms should be, his eyes flashing with worry and fear. "John..."

"I'm sorry," the older man says as he pulls the door open more to reveal his arms, his head down and tears staining his cheeks. Smiity's mouth falls open and tears prick his eyes as he sees what happened, he took a step into the bathroom and took John's hands, pulling him into a tight hug. John allowed himself to be hugged, not struggling against the grip around his shoulders and holding his hands to the other's chest. He pressed his face into Smiity's shoulder, trying to hide from all the bad thoughts and have a moment of safety and a moment to feel loved.

"You have nothing to be sorry about," Smiity's lips press to the side of his head for a second before resting his head next to the older's. "I could never be mad at you for this, I just wish you felt you could talk to me instead."

"I wish- I wish that I didn't do it, I regret doing it so much." The tears stain Smiity's shirt and blood starts to paint onto the fabric that was being held up to John's arms as the man pulls his head away to look down at his friend. Smiity looks down with a sad look.

"Let's get you cleaned up, ok?" John nodded and the two reluctantly pulled away from each other as Smiity led the other to the toilet and motioned him to sit down before walking over to the sink and opening up the cabinet to pull out hydrogen peroxide and some gauze. He soaked the gauze and reached out his hand to lift up John's arm and gently dab the wounds. It stings and feels almost as if burning the skin, but the older man bites his lip and pushes through the pain, letting Smit clean his cuts. After each cut was cleaned, Smiity would lift John's arm to his lips and press a small kiss to the marks.

When he had finished cleaning up the wounds, he grabbed something to wrap up his friend's arm, slowly making sure that you wouldn't be able to see the red lines that were drawn in intersecting lines on John's skin.

"Ok, do you wanna talk about it?" John shakes his head and looks up into Smiity's eyes, seeing how they were red and slightly puffy from crying, no doubt he looked the same, maybe even worse.

"Can we just watch a movie?" His voice is weak and shaky. Smiity smiled at the man before him and held out his hand for him to take.

"Of course." The two make their way to the living room where Smiity lets John get comfortable on the couch while he makes the two of them hot cocoa and popcorn. The man on the couch reaches over to grab the tv remote, turning it to Netflix and selecting Scott Pilgrim vs. The World and pausing it so his friend can get back and watch with him. Smiity smiles at the screen when he sees the movie, sitting down next to his roommate and handing him his mug of cocoa. "Good choice."

The two fall into a comfortable silence after that, letting the movie play, laughing lightly at parts. Gradually, they move closer and closer as time goes by, and slowly John's arm finds its way around Smiity's waist and Smiity starts to play with John's hair.

Soon the movie was over and neither of the men wanted to move from the comfortable position they found themselves in, not wanting the moment to be foiled by small talk or thinking. But all good things have to come to an end, no matter how much we want them to last.

"Why?" The question was vague, sure, but it was all that Smiity could seem to pull out of his tidal wave of thoughts that were drowning his mind. John pauses for a moment, thinking about what it was that drove him to do what he did.

"You ever have that feeling of where, like, the world- your world is just- just crumbling at your fingertips, and that, no matter what you do, you can't seem to make it any better? Or- or do you ever want to feel something in a state of numbness, so bad, that you would harm yourself, just to feel something?" Smiity was speechless, how could he even begin to formulate a response to that. John took the silence as a 'No'. "I kept telling myself that it was just a deranged form of art that would make me feel better and that no one understands how beautiful it actually is, but once I looked down and saw this," he gestured to his arms, "I realized my mistake and it was scary."

"How was it scary?"

"I was surprised at what I could do to myself, it made me realize that- that it's not all- all going to be alright." John was stuttering on a few words, his brain trying to get out into words what his brain was saying and desperately hoping that Smiity was understanding his incoherent babbling.

"Hey," The soft tone of voice made John look up and into his friend's eyes, "you shouldn't have to feel scared of yourself, you shouldn't feel like you're a live bomb that could go off any minute. You should feel like you can trust yourself."

John looked into the younger man's eyes and saw how much he cared for him, he saw the feelings that lay below the surface of his features. He knew there was something that they should talk about, but he wasn't sure if he was ready to unearth those thoughts and spill them out to his friend. All he could think to do was hug the Canadian. So he did.

They sat there for the rest of the night, cuddling and conversing in small banter, both men always being quick to answer, that is until they both fell asleep in each other's arms, holding away all the bad things that might hurt them and, in their dreams, a world of happiness and love awaits.