Request : @uabestboi
Henry Bowers ✡︎
Henry had always been aggressive. Not in a way that would ever hurt you, but the way he would hug you tightly or pull at your arm to make you closer to him. Within the four months you had been together you knew how to weasel. Of course he had taught you how to lie and basically formed a brand new personality trait that you didn't know you were capable of having.
You had been extremely and overly careful with hiding a secret from him. Making sure you kept a sweater on during sex, he just took this as a body issue thing, well he wasn't wrong, but you were glad he didn't push. He wanted to respect you, he wanted you to stay and he had voiced that yes, it made him uncomfortable when you would take his shirt off and he couldn't do the same, he felt as if he was underdressed. For sex ( it made you want to chuckle ).
Little did he know, you had cuts and bruises all across your chest and stomach. You didn't love your body, you wished multiple times you looked like the other girls. And being able to harm the once flawless skin made you feel in control. Not eating made you feel in power over everything. It was definitely a sick mind set but it helped you cope with what you didn't have.
Sometimes you weren't careful.
You stretched, yawning as the light entered the bedroom. Henry was still out cold. His bare back uncovered from you hogging the blankets. Something you never liked to admit.
It was cute, just watching him snore and act all innocent, though you knew otherwise. You fixed your hoodie (it was actually his but he didn't mind when you stole clothes) so it wasn't strangling you and slowly turned your body so you could lay on your stomach, wincing slightly as the fabric of the hoodie pressed against the bare skin of your most recent cut. It stung, but you gotten used to it.
Henry grumbled a few words before flipping into his back. Yawning and stretching his arms out widely, nearly hitting your face, you giggled slightly, causing Henry to look at you with a tired look, his lips curling into a small smirk as he leaned over and kissed your face.
You wanted to smile, but suddenly the pain felt too much making you gasp.
This sudden noise caused Henry to flinch away from you, his eyebrows curling down with slight frustration and sadness.
"I'm sorry." He quickly said, sitting up, as if trying to part himself farther away from you.
You say up quicker waving your hands in front of you, "No no it wasn't your fault!"
"Then why did you gasp? Are you okay?"
You froze, you couldn't tell him you had cramps, you told him before you hadn't gotten them, and you could usually hide the lie behind a simple 'I'm fine' but you knew that Henry didn't believe that anymore, he started pushing it.
You didn't want to come clean, but you didn't know what to say.
Henry was the first one to break the silence.
"Y/n fucking talk to me. Did I do something to hurt you? Did your dad do something?" His voice raised every time a new question popped up, he knew your home life wasn't the best. It took hours to make him realize your father never ever raised a hand towards you, he wouldn't do that.
"It's nothing, I'm okay."
"Take your shirt off."
Your heart stopped. Your breathing hitched, and you knew by the look from Henry, he wouldn't let you leave without you either taking your shirt of, or you telling him.
Your hands instinctively went to the collar of your hoodie, pulling it up.
Henry wasn't lost to this action, his own hands quickly grabbing the bottom of the fabric, pulling it up, not giving you a chance to even register what exactly he was doing.
When you felt the coldness against your body, you started to sob, the burns ached slightly, the small unheard cuts were suddenly painful as well, as if they felt the stares of Henry's eyes.
He was silent. Staring at each scar, old fades ones, and the newer wounds. His eyes looked confused, though to be fair you couldn't pin point exactly what it was with all the tears leaving your eyes.
"Your gonna tell me. Right now." Henry's voice was low. You couldn't tell if what was hidden behind it was anger or something else.
Your took a deep breath, though a few small broken sobs continued to rip from your throat as you tried to explain.
"I'm not pretty, or beautiful like everyone else. They all have perfect bodies. No fat in sight, no blemishes. I guess I wanted to be in control...being able to cut and burn myself made me feel like I was powerful. The pain made me realize that I was strong."
"Y/n, love. Your perfect to me," Henry's hands slowly cupped you're face, forcing you to look at him, his thumbs slowly wiped away tears, no matter how fast they came, "you may think you need to be like everyone else. But it's what I love you. Your different. Yes, you are strong and powerful, but not because of that. This, you doing that, hurts me too Y/n. You might think that no one will notice but I am your boyfriend. I want to be able to see you. I want to be your husband. Your life, I want to become your family. I want to take you places and raise a tiny you or a tiny me. If you ever think that I don't love you, or I think that you aren't perfect, then you can get bent. Cause I want you, I love you so fucking much."
You could tell he was on the brink of crying, his eyes were starting to get red, and they were starting to water.
"But Henry-"
"No buts, I am here for now and forever. But I want you to promise that you'll at least try not to do this anymore. If you ever feel the need I will be over in less than a second, and we will talk about whatever you need. Now, how about a shower?" He asked softly, you just nodded. Letting Henry lift you from the bed.
You wanted to pretend it was okay, but after seeing Henry liked that, you realized how much it was hurting both of you.
He loved you. And he loved everything about you, and that was enough for you to realize that maybe, in the eyes of the beholder, you were beautiful.
Victor Criss ✞
"Okay, so we can either call for pizza, or takeout."
"Vic, it's basically the same thing, just different wording." You shook your head. Looking up from your book. Giving Vic a small smile.
You were currently curled up into a ball on the side of the couch, buried in a blanket, wearing a plum purple pair of sweats and a black sweatshirt. Even though it was hot as shit. Victor sat on the other side of the couch, rubbing his chin in thought.
"Don't be a smart ass, you know what I mean." Vic chuckled as he picked up the phone, you shrugged, knowing Vic would call for Chinese takeout anyways, you realized after a full 6 months of dating, that he didn't enjoy pizza, explaining that he used to have it all the time as a child. It just didn't appease him that much anymore. You understood that. But pizza was life and sometimes you wanted to make Vic realize how good it can be, but he was stubborn as hell.
You sat up, kissing Vic on the head and motioning you were gonna use the washroom quickly, he just nodded as he started to order some food, pausing every couple of seconds, probably to listen to the guy on the other line.
You closed the door behind you. Quickly rolling your sleeves up, realizing the bandages were starting to bleed through. You cursed and sighed deeply. Quickly starting to unwrap the one on your left arm. You wrapped the bandages into a ball and shoved them into the trash can, before undoing the other and splashing cold water.
It had been exactly three years. You had started after your parents had divorced. They fought for months over who should get custody, but when your dad found another women, and got her knocked up, he decided he didn't need you as a kid anymore. He hadn't called you or visited since the baby was born, which was two years ago.
Your mother started drinking, and was mostly never home, and when she was she was sleeping, or getting ready for work, still hungover or a little drunk.
You just wanted to be noticed again, but the way the blade would feel against your skin made you feel better, it made you realize you were still human, watching the blood trickle slowly down your arm, feeling the little rush of dizziness as you would grip the side of your bathroom counter.
You stared at them in the mirror, some were fully faded, other wise they were scared or still bleeding. You continued to wash the dried blood gently off your arms, quickly dabbing it with a black washcloth, keeping the slight pressure on it as you rewrapped it carefully. Though when the door opened you felt the wrap fall from your fingers. Your first instinct was to close the door, but it was too far, so all you could do was nothing as victor walked in.
The smile on his face faltered slowly as he realized what was impressed into your arms, his breathing suddenly became ragged and he choked slightly, before grabbing your arm and forcing you closer to him.
His touch was as gentle as it could've been, but it didn't stop the pain from shooting into your arm as his finger accidentally pressed against a tender wound.
Patrick Hocksetter
Your mother wasn't very happy when she found out you were going on a date with one of the most feared kids in Derry. She whined and whined about how you needed to be careful and that maybe this wasn't a good idea. Explaining in graphic detail what could happen to her baby.
You ignored her rants. She often did this with everyone she could, digging up information on the matter and always finding something that didn't make the person good.
So when she came up with multiple reasons why Patrick was nothing but a playboy and a manipulative liar, you couldn't help but want to go out even more.
He had asked you in the most gentlemanly way possible. Waiting at your locker than giving you a single purple picked flower that he got from the school garden the nature class had planted a month ago.
It was a very lovely gesture, considering that picking flowers from the school garden was worth a two week detention. So having him successfully and easily deliver you the flower. He didn't really ask you.
He just told you to be outside at 5:00, placing a small and gentle kiss against your temple and putting the flower in your palm, giving you a small smirk before walking away.
See this encounter basically shot down everything you had heard about him. He suddenly became everything you wanted, in a short span of five minutes.
You hesitantly stood in front of your mirror, modelling the outfit you choose for the night. Patrick didn't give you much to work with, so you decided to wear a green, yellow, red and blue striped t-shirt, and a black skirt that went to your knee's, it looked semi formal and wasn't too extravagant, considering the nicest restaurant that was placed in Derry was the wedding hall, and that was barely ever open, mostly because of all of its bookings.
A knock on your door snapped you out of you small trance and you quickly moved from your room to the bottom of the stairs, but your mother got there faster.
"Well hello Patrick." She smiled, but you could tell that the tone of her voice wasn't very welcoming.
"Good evening Mrs. L/n. I'm here for your daughter. I'm planning on taking her out tonight. She'll be back before midnight, or whenever you would like."
Patrick was wearing a button up black blouse and his regular black jeans, they were ripped in some places but the way his hair was actually done, made up for the messiness his look gave off, with his hair fixed, and the way his shirt was buttoned up properly, he looked like a handsome and fine young adult. Which made you feel slightly down on what you wore. Suddenly wishing you could go back to your room and change.
You realized they hadn't noticed you were standing there, so you cleared your throat.
"Midnight is just fine. I promise I'll be home right on time mom." You smiled, glancing at Patrick.
His mouth was open slightly, his eyes were wide with surprise, it was definitely obvious that he really liked what you were wearing. A small and very genuine smile curling onto his lips. He nodded towards your mother, explaining how he was going to take you out for dinner and then go to a movie. And you would be back before she'd know it. Your mother gave him a look, but nonetheless let you go.
You quickly pulled on a black shawl. Following Patrick out the door.
"You look really pretty." Patrick mumbled. Scratching the back of his neck. You buckled your seat belt, holding back the joke about him needed to borrow Reginald's car. It was a nice gesture.
"You look handsome." You breathed out, your face suddenly burning up and your heart racing as Patrick started the car.
You had been at the restaurant for five minutes, the drinks hadn't even arrived when Patrick pointed it out.
"What were those scabs on the back of your hands? And why are there scars all over your palms?"
His question caused your to freeze, the innocent smile slowly being wiped away as the question seemed to dig itself in your skin.
"Uh, just scars. Nothing special." You laughed nervously. Looking back down at your menu. Patrick frowned. Placing his down and grabbing your hand. Your gasped. His hand forced your sleeve up. Revealing two scratching marks on the back of your hand, a thin scab forming. He flipped it to reveal many more on the palm of your hand and along your knuckles and fingers.
"These don't look like nothing to me kitten." He softly spoke. Leaning in toward you, making sure only you could hear his voice.
"There just something I do when I get anxious." You shook your head, "It's nothing to worry about, I promise."
Then Patrick did something you never though he would, he lifted your hand and placed a gentle kiss to it before placing it back down on the table and pulling the collar of his shirt aside to reveal scratch marks along his collarbone and shoulders.
"I know it's nothing kitten. Cause I do it too. It's not the best habit to get into so I understand how you feel." He put his hand on top of yours and breathed in deeply, looking different, his face seemed softer, he almost didn't seem crazy.
"We will get through this together. Because honestly, I don't plan on letting you go."
Belch Huggins ∞
Reginald Huggins was the love of your life.
You guys had met at school, through a study group. If you were being honest, you were more than pretty surprised to see him there, after all, usually a guy nicknamed Belch wasn't a person you would consider smart in any way. Though when he met you, he had been quick to tell you his real name and forced anyone that talked to you to call him Reginald when you were around. He didn't want you to hear anyone call him Belch. He also proved how smart he really was, even becoming more like a tutor towards you.
Though everyone knew that was just an excuse so you two could see more of each other.
When you guys had gotten together, it was magical. Five months in you both got jobs and decided to move in together. People called you both crazy, making it a point that it was too soon. Though both you and Reggie crushed those standards and now, at a year and a half he had proposed, you were engaged and you both were still as happy as ever.
Well, as happy as you could be.
You felt awful for lying for so long. For hiding it as an accident, Reggie often had no reason to not believe you. He trusted you, and you often found your self overthinking the possible outcomes of it. Of when he would find out.
He thought you would just occasionally and absentmindedly touch the stove after just turning it off, he though you would grab the hair straighteners not thinking it would heat up that fast. But to be honest, you were running out of excuses. And the more you came up with them, the more you realized he was more uneasy.
You can't remember exactly when you started. You just remember how empowering it felt to feel something that wasn't anger, it was nice to know that you could still feel. It felt like finally, you were in front role of nonexistent emotions, and the feeling felt so euphoric. Every time you would place you hand on the hot stove, or press the hot straightener to certain places on your skin.
It was easy to cover up. Accidents happen, they just seemed to be attracted to you. You can't tell someone that their doing it on purpose. It was perfect, and was fool proof.
Well to a certain extent.
Reggie loved to call you his little clutz. Always telling people that even when you first met. You were often tripping and falling and burning your skin on accidental touches with a hot rod, or a simple trip into hot coals from your fire pit. Though he was always careful when he would go to grab your hand, or grip your waist. You had the feeling he was catching on.
You only started to realize because Reggie was starting to become more careful with his words, more careful with his actions towards you. He was suddenly becoming different.
The change you saw in him made you remember why you didn't want to tell him in the first place. You didn't want it to ruin what you had built with him. You knew this lie was big, and you knew the damage it could cause. Though the fear was still beating into your heart. You didn't know what to do.
For the first time in your life. You felt guilt. You felt like you were living a lie. You didn't want him to be mad.
"Y/n, hun. I want to talk to you."
Those were the words that made every suspicion rise and boil over. The words of your doubts taunting you with how tight you were, even though for once, you wished you were wrong.
"What's up?" You asked, gently sitting down on his knee. He had been sitting in his rocking chair. Watching the t.v in front of him. His hand went to your mid back. His thumb rubbing small circles on the covered skin.
"I've been noticing some things. Your burns have been getting really bad lately. It's just that. I can't see how you can be getting into so much 'accidents'. These look like they are being done on purpose."
You didn't answer. You couldn't. A year and a half built on a clumsy lie. You could hear his words of rejection before they even came out. You started to shake, your fingers pulling at each other as yo untried to find the right words to pull together.
"Baby, look at me." He whispered, gently using his other hand to cup your chin, forcing you to look at him. You were looking for the anger. The resentment in his eyes. Waiting for him to yell and scream and hit. Just like your father did.
But the shots never came.
You were shocked. When Reggie started to cry. He sounded broken. His hand on your back gripping the fabric of your dress tightly as his other hand went to his face. As if hiding his eyes.
You couldn't move. Your body frozen. You never expected this path. You hadn't even though of Reggie crying. The first (and only) time you saw him cry was when his precious car was impounded then taken away.
His head fell against your shoulder, forcing a strong and painful surge of electricity to shit through your body, causing your figure to jolt. His tears dampened the front of your dress, and slowly, you let your hand caress his dark brown locks.
"Y/n, please. Why do you do this to yourself? Is it me? Am I hurting you, do I not make you feel loved? Please tell me so I can fix it. I can't lose you baby. I can't." He rambled. His sobs breaking into his sentences.
Your heart was breaking too. Each word shot a arrow into your heart. Made you realize that you weren't just burning yourself, you were burning him.
You wanted to talk to him. But each sob made you realize that you just needed to stay calm. You needed to let him breathe. You would explain everything after.