NCT imagines & reactions

|Mark|

Mark♡
Word count: 1034
!¡Angst, (detailed)self harm!¡
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Y/N POV

I checked myself in the mirror with the outfit on that I thought would look good. But as soon as I saw myself in the mirror my confidence went down again. This is not it at all. Others would look amazing! But I, no. I look horrible just like always. I get out of the clothes and wore my oversized shirt with my dirty sweatpants that I've been wearing for a week now. All because I don't have the energy, the mood, the confidence to just do anything.

I walk into the bathroom and make a low messy bun. I watch myself in the reflection of the mirror. I sigh and try to fight back the next mental breakdown. I lost count on Tuesday when I had my 5th of the week already, we're Friday. Usually a day everyone's happy because the weekend starts. But I'm not. I was so busy in my mind that I didn't notice the tears rolling down. I had the need to let all of the build up anger out and there was only one way that I was used to.

I haven't done it in a while but I was craving for the pain that doesn't feel like pain anymore. The sharp knife making different permanent scars let the red liquids fluid out of it. That I'm even thinking of doing that again after almost 2 years. Recently I was still proud of being harm free but now I want it again. I just want to end it but also not, it's difficult. It's a mess up there in my head. I wish Mark was here with me right now and not out with his friends. But I can't expect him to be here with me 24/7 pretty much babysitting me.

Ugh now I think of it. He's more of a babysitter than my boyfriend. It's disgusting. How can he live with someone like me? How can he love someone like me? I feel so sorry for him. It must be a hell. Maybe he doesn't even want me anymore but he's too scared to leave me behind because I barely can take care of myself. It's been enough. I get up to the kitchen and take a sharp knife. I get back to our bedroom and start making one, not so deep cut.

I hiss at the old feeling, I had to get used to it again. It wasn't much blood that ran down my arm. I made another cut and another, soon my arm bleeding more. The tears keep rolling down. I repeat the same thing until the knife got taken away from my hands. I look up in shock but couldn't see much with the tears in my eyes. "Give it back!" I begged. "No, y/n no! I'm not giving the knife back." It was Mark. He came back home. "Your arm." He gulps. "Stay here."

He runs into the bathroom coming back with a first aid kit. I stopped crying but I was still trying to steady my breath and sobs. I now noticed how much blood that was running down my arm all on the bedsheets. "Mark I'm so sorry." I whisper, ready to break out in tears again. "No no don't apologise to me... but to yourself. You know I still love you right." He was carefully cleaning up the scars and blood from my arm. He looks me in the eyes as I didn't give any response. "Y/n, baby I love you with my whole heart."

He placed a peck on my cheek. "I don't want you to feel so bad. It hurts seeing you like this but you know that if you feel bad you can talk with me right. Even if I'm not home, just call and I'll be here in a second. I love you so so much!" I started crying again. This time because of his words, knowing someone cares for you and actually loves you. It's the confirmation I needed, does someone still care? "Hey don't cry." He wipes away my tears. "It's okay. I'm here now. Nothing can happen."

He puts aside the first aid and takes me in a hug. "Thank you." I softly say. Only loud enough for him to hear. "Thanks for what? That I took care of your arm?" He asks. "Because you love me." I say. I hear him softly gasp before his hug tightens. "Of course I do. Maybe I should tell you more often. Then you'll know. And you're also very beautiful and smart, funny too, I love how you always try your best for everything and I know you try your best." He tells me. "Thank you."

"No need to thank me. Go sit on the couch, I'll clean this mess up and then I'll come to you for more cuddles." He tells me. I slowly get up. "Let me help you." I say. "No. I can do it." He says. "Mark please let me help. You're not my babysitter. I should learn to clean up my own mess. I should be able to take care after myself without having to depend on other's help. I should be able to feel pretty and good in whatever I wear and do and just how I feel but I don't! Because I'm just... I'm not okay!"

I break down again and let myself fall through my knees again. There I sat on the floor. Mark was quick to sit next to me and comfort me again. "I didn't know you felt like that, I'm sorry baby." He gives a kiss on top of my head. "Let's clean together, change the bedsheets and then we can do whatever you like." He says. "Okay." I nod. "But wait... would you mind if I'd go back to my therapist?" I ask. Mark was quiet for a few seconds. "You don't have to ask that, I'm already happy you know that it's good to go there. I'm really proud of you." He gives me one more hug and a kiss on the lips before we get up to clean.

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A/N: it's been a while since I wrote angst, I hope this didn't make anyone feel uncomfortable. If so let me know and if you're struggling with mental health pls talk with someone about it, no one deserves to struggle like that
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