The song of birds awoke the female of the lovers as the dawn stretched over the length of the windowsill and lurked just short of the sofa. Its mustard color hue just out of reach however giving the room a much brighter atmosphere. Sitting up she looked over the integrity of the room, believing all was in perfect order; sweeping her legs over the edge of her somewhat comfortable bed - she found herself unable to do so with ease. This was because: Firstly, she felt rather sore, and secondly; there was a hand around her waist and a warm figure pressed against her skin.
She looked down in confusion to find she was also missing her clothing, which stumped her further before memories of the previous days happenings flooded back to her in a hazy barrage; causing her to cover her head and close her eyes in an effort to disregard distractions and focus on the privy occurrences. Her small hand then made a stretch down her face before giving off affliction smile - eyes drifting to the hand that lay ever so gently around her before holding it with a thumb and index finger and placing it aside imperceptibly as though she would awake a monster if she acted too rashly.
She stood up and walked forth towards the door staggering slightly as a mumble caught her ears. "No... Don't go..." Turning on her heels, she was met with Rose laying still, holding one of the couch pillows as though it were the only source of warmth he had left, eyes clenched shut tightly and a hint of despair in his lungs. Vocals wobbling shakily as he spoke in anguish. Hearing him as such made a pendulum drop inside of her as a metaphorical darkness clutched at her heart - taking an averse, silent however brisk stroll towards him on her tip-toes as not to wake him.
He was having a nightmare. Breathing had become rushed, sweating profoundly while murmuring miniscule fragments his vision into the open world and to the ears of his lover - she listened and he spoke. Her hand grasped his gently before whispering to him in the softest voice she could muster, "I'm never going anywhere." Then offered him a frivolous peck on Rose's cheek. Then he began to calm. Breathing slowing down though still at a rapid pace, his twitches had ceased and his murmurs became less coherent.
In all truth - she wanted him awake. She wanted him to wake and see his nightmares were just nightmares. That she was still there, she always would be. Gradually, she began to stroke his hair and shushed his maddening night terrors with her cooing. Offering many: 'everything will be alright,' and 'I'm here's before he was eventually eased into a state of stability properly.
She gave a small sigh and walked away from Rose. Traversing her home until she came to the bathroom. She was about to strip off her clothing - letting out a sudden "Oh..." when she realized she wasn't wearing anything. Turning on the shower, she waited for it to get nice and hot before stepping inside allowing the water to loosen the knots in her muscles and watching as it washed away the residue of the intimate activities.
Her hair grew heavy with the water it took on, draping down and taking on a darker, more sluggish appearance, as if the cleansing fluid sapped the divinity from her. She dropped to her knees which gave a sharp click followed by a gasp of temporary pain. Sitting on the ground and drawing her knees under her chin nonchalantly, finally wrapping her arms around her knees then began thinking to herself.
Unbeknownst to how much time had passed before she stepped out dripping wet. Her hair soon being wrapped up in a baby blue towel and her body wrapped up in a frost white, far bigger towel. Upon exiting the bathroom, she made her way to her bedroom, feeling restored and mildly pleased with how the soothing heat and steam had left her feeling as though she had just treated herself to the most luxurious spa.
She pulled forth a pair of smooth, and expensive wine red cotton underwear; clasped a more comfortable black bra on with minimal difficulty and looked around the room. She spotted several beanies that may be perfect for the day and quickly decided that it's more appropriate to select an outfit first. She opened up her wardrobe and began disregarding tops left, right and center. A smile graced her lips as she pulled out a white, short sleeved shirt on that had a boxed picture of the Brooklyn Bridge in its bright red glory on it with an enticing blue sky; an added cloud here and there - completing the majestically of the landscape that had been pasted into the torso, completing the canvas. She then closed the door with a loud, heart stopping 'thunk' against its frame and went to her drawers, pulling forth a single pair of low rise denim shorts and decided that would be her outfit for the day.
She stared into the mirror that stood beside her and inspected her body. The marks were even more prominent than before, marking their territory all over her body which brought a thought to her mind. How in God's name was she going to cover all of these up? The answer was simple. She wasn't, she decided against a scarf, that would mean she'd have to decide upon a differing fashion choice, and frankly, she thought she would look good in her fabulous outfit today.
She idly began slipping the shirt over her head, Sighing as it snuggled her build comfortably without being overly tight, followed by the denim shorts which glided up her legs and hugged her waist and thighs. Then she felt contempt that on a cloudless, day like this the outfit suited her perfectly. Before she left to go outside, she grappled a pair of white, somewhat dirty converse from the floor. A single red stripe being led in full circuit around the sides and a label on the top that simply read 'All star' with a star adding distance between the two separate words.
She then removed the towel from her head and began to run a brush through the strands. Until each and every one was parted from each other and going straight down her back. Plugging in her hairdryer, a incredibly warm breeze swept through her locks and past her towards the outside world; kept apart by the thin, transparent wall that was her window.
Music began blaring audibly from the portal of her doorway which drifted down the passageways of her home, bouncing wall by wall until directed straight into the ears of the boy who sat, fully clothed and wide awake on the sofa. Staring ahead to avoid what may have followed him through the gateway to paradise.
She had stopped the warmth from the hair styling contraption and found her hair somewhat fuzzy, nothing that couldn't be fixed by an attentive round over with a brush; styling it backwards into a quiff. While smiling to herself in the mirror, she picked up a maroon beanie and placed it on her head firmly so it didn't flop around too much, however enough so that she could have a small dip at the back. She looked back into the mirror and had confirmed her previous assumptions; she looked far better than good - she was ravishing. Nodding in acceptance, she out of her doorway and downstairs into her living room, eyes falling on the emptiness and eerie serenity of the room. It was almost quiet enough that her heart could be heard with a repetitive thump which seamlessly blended in with the anomalous scene.
The living room was desolate, it was something that had become unnatural to her since Rose had come and it seemed like something she would never get used to. No, was it wrong? Was it wrong that she believed it should have been filled with the conversation of and enthusiastic comprehension of the boy who captivated her, it seemed so... perverse to her. There was no laughter, no complaints to greet her on her appearance that she appreciated so much. Not even the calm breaths of his lazy self. It felt - it was - morally wrong to her.
She took a step forwards and began to listen, it took a moment. There was something. A rapid mumbling. She began to step again, until something caught her eye on the ground across the room. Racing over to inspect it, she crouched on the ground to spy a droplet of red liquid on the ground. A liquid she grew to identify on sight, the heart that had already been racing had begun to reach new heights of speed and the feeling she grew to associate with Rose came to surface. Worry raced into her veins and she ran forward towards the mumbling around the house. Throwing her head left and right in hopes to sport a look at whatever entered her direct or peripheral vision. Relaying on her hearing to decide whether she was moving hotter or colder to her pained objective.
Her intuition told her the most sensible thing to do would be to find a trail. Track him down and take care of that wound. Then knock that thick skull of his into the ground.
She began to look as quickly as she could register everything for a clue as to what direction she should go in. The then spotted as small cluster of three droplets on the floor and another splattered one on the door frame. Approaching it, she traveled through the open gateway into the dining room. Eyes traversing the room rapidly as she saw a small stream of droplets traveling across the platform she stood on towards the next room. The door closed to the kitchen. A few droplets on the handle itself, rushing over to grip the handle, she threw it open. What she saw made her blood run cold and her bones jam to a halt.
She found what she was looking for. The muttering much, much clearer and coherent now, there were red handprints all over the walls and his wrist was dripping with fresh blood. The counters had been covered in little shells of stray liquids and Rose sat, sharpener blade in hand with a large gash on his bleeding arm practically flowing with residue liquids that were meant to stay in his veins. A soft banging could be heard with every collision his head made against her cupboard, almost always followed with the rattling of its contents from the inside. That wasn't what really scared her...
What scared her was the mixture of facial expressions that he held. One second he would be smiling, and in the same second his face would be contorted in a mixture of disbelief as though angry or in a heated argument and then one. Followed by one of morbid expression.
Though he sobbed without tears, his wrist seemed to be doing that for him. Gripping the small blade as though it were the last thing on earth while his other, leaking hand would twitch every now and then as though it had a mind of its own. Pupils like pinpricks that were vaguely covered by his mound of hair which seemed to be matted with blood which showed as a sign he had previously ran a hand through his hair or gripped his head with visibly unclean hands.
What was very clear was that something had set him off, something had messed with him and that something was something she couldn't see. That something was in his head. She knew what she needed to do. She knew where she needed to start and she hadn't a clue on how to start it.
"Hun... are you in there?" She asked as sweetly as she possibly could over the mumblings; to her dismay there was no response. He continued to murmur rapidly, though as clearer as it was, the small bangs made it harder to correctly understand more than just a few emphasized words. Words like: 'Mother', 'Aren't Real', 'Shut Up' and a few other repeated phrases.
She silently edged closer but kept her distance. Stopping and continuing when she was sure he hadn't noticed her presence. She deviated her path slowly to go into the cabinet under her skin and receive a first aid kit. She needed to get the wound healed up and she needed to more importantly get him stabilized. "S...Sweetie... I'm going to need you to stay calm... let me have a look."
Rose stopped all action. Eyes ceased their mindless scrambling and began to focus on the lone girl before him. He said nothing. No action was taken, his eyes remained hidden to an extent; he eyed her up and down slowly. As though she were something that was never presented before him in his life. It was like something inside him fought for control, his arms continued to twitch. Then he broke down into a full scale of tears. A barely audible clatter resonated in the room as the sharpener blade slipped from his grasp and he fell to his knees screaming at the ceiling whilst slamming his hands into his head which had now pinned itself to the ground.
She shot forwards like a bullet. Faster if she could have - wrapping her arms around the mentally traumatized male she had grown so fond of. Wasting no time she forced her hands to his in efforts to keep himself from hurting himself anymore. "Shh, I'm here now... everything's going to be alright, dry your eyes, hun. I'm here..."
She cupped his head into her arms and chest after he ceased his efforts to hurt himself anymore and had already smothered herself in his blood. Hands were getting droplets and dried flakes to coat them and her beautiful top was now getting soaked in tears.
She had never seen him in such a state before. Gambling a glance at his arm, her vision became obscured and she had begun to release tears. She had heard the tales, she had listened to tears before. She had heard his stories on past experiences worse than this one, she never took them seriously, however she did today. She realized how every real they were. How true he had been and she slowly raised a hand to wipe her own tears away. Reaffirming her sights on his injury and closed her eyes at first glance.
"Listen to me," She began, taking a deep breath and a gulp of air. "I'll need you to let me treat your wound or else-"
His response cut her off and it felt like a ton of dread had been stuffed into the pit of her stomach. "Just let me die, please...! I don't want to suffer anymore." She felt a pang of guilt fill her soul, or it may just have been the vomit in her esophagus. "You know I can't do that... don't be so silly..."
"Please..." An anger grew in her mind and she released him from a hug and gripped both sides of his head, forcing his eyes to meet her's as tears ran down the duo's eyes.
"Don't you ever request that of me again!" She spat at him with a rage she placed with the utmost demanding tone she could muster. "You know how much you mean to me, you know you're irreplaceable to me! How dare you request that I let you disappear from my life after we waited so long for you to get here, I waited for you, I waited and you request I let you do something as stupid as dying? Do you have any idea who you're talking to? Do you have any idea how much I actually care about you?"
It burned her up inside, she loved him endlessly, she had been waiting for a day she could finally tell him she wanted to have him part of her life forever and he wanted to go and ruin that over something as little as torment! "If you ever say that to me again... If you ever say that to me again... I-I'll kick 7 shades of shit clean out of you... you understand that?" She was morbidly surprised at herself when he said nothing and answered it with a nod. His twitching had reduced itself to minor vibrations.
"Now give me your wrist." She said in a demanding tone, a feeling of stress overtaking all else. She never meant to be so harsh, she just cared, and she loved him like a brother and more. Far more and at times he invoked such a happiness inside her that it's all she felt really matters.
She became aware at this point as small puddle was beginning to form from the miniature streams from his wrist. His skin had become ghostly white as he must have lost around half a pint of blood. She pulled a bandage from the wound and began to apply pressure to the deep cut. Constantly reaffirming he was going to be okay, after a while the bleeding had stopped and she inspected the wound, realizing it must have been around an inch deep and had nearly sliced open his vein. It was also quite long and which explained the amount of blood lost without the need of severing a vein or important artery.
"It might sting a bit..." She stated shakily, somewhat unsure in her ability of first aid as she tried to recall what she knew. Reaching into the box of medical resource, she withdrew a pack of alcohol free wipes with a gauze pad. She began with the wipes, informing him she was to clean the wound and reminding him again that it may sting a little bit. With gentle strokes and dabs, she began to cleanse it part by part, insuring that the entirety of the wound was safe from infection before securing it with the gauze pads.
She sighed and pulled his head back into her lap, stroking his hair comfortingly, she was angry just because she was... scared. She was scared of losing the one person who went out of their way and explored every possibility to make her feel better about herself or just to make be happy...she felt if she were any later, the fool may have done something stupider.
A tear rolled down her cheek and she began to chuckle at the thoughts that assaulted her mind. "If you ever scare me like this again. It won't be this that kills you." She gave a threat to the boy who had his eyes closed and rested his head on her lap. "You won't need stitches... which is good... because I'm not prepared for that..."
His mouth opened and he began to apologized, swiftly though, she raised a finger to his lips and shushed him.
"You can make it up to me with dinner later... okay?" With that, the couple remained still and silent, fear lingering in the shadows of recent events. One thing was for certain...
"I'm going to need to wash this top again..."