Sanders Sides Mini Stories/Oneshots

~🎭The Blood Behind The Scenes🎭~

Warning: this is gonna be real angsty (well, that's what I'm aiming for)

Human AU

Tw: Descriptions/mentions of self-harm, blood, sharp objects, mentions of rehab, cursing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Janus staggered as his vision flickered in and out of focus. Large smears of gaudy red swam in and out of his line of sight. Leaning weakly against the wall he tried to grab the counter to steady himself. His fingers slipped against the slick surface, which, when he looked closer, was spattered with more red. The color was everywhere: his clothes, the counter, the floor, the walls, the mirror, his arms. Or was he hallucinating from blood loss? No, it was really there. He grimaced as he did his best to look around. God, the smell was awful, like old iron but a thousand times stronger. It burned his eyes and nose and made him want to gag. 

You did this. This is your fault.

He stayed there, supporting himself with the wall until the room stopped spinning and the pounding headache subsided. In an attempt to ground himself he stared at the floor, catching sight of the thin plastic knife that had caused this. It was still clenched in his hand, covered with so much blood that the red was almost black. A sudden rush of hatred for what he'd done hit him, and he threw the plastic utensil. He winced when his throwing arm started bleeding again.

You betrayed your friends trust. Why? All they ever do is try to help you.

"Might need more than two or three layers of bandage this time," he speculated aloud. His arms were so mutilated with cuts that he looked like the victim of a bear mauling. It would take quite a bit of time and effort to cover them properly and clean the entire room. Looking at the skin on his arms he saw that they had been tinted red from the blood.

You hide your pain "for their sake"... but you suffer more in the lie than the truth.

○○○○○○○○○20 min later○○○○○○○○

Janus closed the door as quietly as he could and sighed. This was getting bad again. Really, really bad. 

This is only going to stay under wraps for so long you know...

"Whatcha doing Dee?"

Told you.

"I was using the bathroom Virgil. Like a normal person," Janus said slowly. The man in the shadows watched him with narrowed eyes. 

So you're going to lie to his face now?

"For an hour?"

"I wasn't feeling very well."

Considering that a perfectly normal response, he started back to his room.

You can't run forever.

"Well, you definitely don't look so great. Your skin is paler."

Janus flinched and turned back toward his friend. Virgil's eyes were cold, searching. Under his gaze, something in him wanted to hide.

He knows. You know he knows.

"I'm probably coming down with something," he shrugged. "I get paler when I'm sick."

"I didn't know that."

"Well now you do. Goodnight Vee," Dee replied curtly. He continued down the hall and was halfway to his room. Virgil growled.

"Alright, cut the polite shit Janus. Where did you hide the blade?"

Got you.

Janus stiffened. Think of an excuse, something, anything, anything but the truth...

"I don't know what you mean by that," he answered blandly. God, that was bad.

"I can see the bandages, dumbass."

Glancing down at his arms, he saw that the bloodied end of his bandages was poking out from under his left-hand sleeve. He tucked it back in, wincing when he scraped a cut with his fingernail.

"Your getting worse. Much worse than before. Don't even try my patience with your damn lying," Virgil continued, his voice low. 

He's right. You used double the bandages, and they're still not enough to hide it.

"This was only one time," Janus muttered. He'd been through a month of rehab. When he got out he felt fine for weeks, months. Almost no thought of... this, until today.

So... why?

Virgil sighed tiredly.

"Have you told them?"

"Have you?" Janus said quietly. He saw Virgil's hand twitch toward his sleeve.

"I haven't cut for months," he mumbled. He wasn't meeting the other's eyes. Janus stared at him.

It takes a liar to know a liar, Virgil.

"I know you didn't give Patton all your razors. I found one under your trashcan when I was cleaning last week."

The two of them sat there and looked at each other, knowing what the other felt: self-disgust, pain, confusion, anger, fear. Lots of fear. Virgil let out a harsh bark of bitter laughter.

"Guess we're both a couple of spineless cowards, huh J?"

"I guess so."

The clock in the kitchen chimed somberly, marking the time as 5 a.m. 

"We should go back to bed before Pat hears us and wonders what we're doing up at ass o'clock in the morning," Virgil muttered feebly.

Neither of you want to talk. But eventually you'll have to.

"Cool. See you."

Just as Janus opened his door, Virgil turned around.

"Hey, Dee?"

Janus glanced at him. His eyes looked so... hopeless. Terrified. Were they always that way?

"When... are we gonna tell them?" His phrasing made it sound like he wasn't asking when, but if they were planning to say something at all.

He couldn't answer. Anything he said would've been a lie. He just looked away.

"Knew it," Virgil said quietly, "You don't have a plan, do you?"

Janus didn't say anything. There was no sound but the soft click of a closed door.

All we are is a couple of hypocrites.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ahaha, I almost cried writing this 😃✌️

So yea, angst. Probably weren't expecting that. 

In a (bad) attempt to lighten the mood, here's a strange fact: Text messages sent by eagles bankrupted a scientific study.

(It actually happened, look it up if you want.)

Peace!

-🦅Bracken🦅