XVIII

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Bᴏʙsʏ-ᴅɪᴇ (ɴ) - ɢʀᴇᴀᴛ ᴅᴇᴀʟ ᴏғ ғss ᴏʀ ᴛʀᴏᴜʙʟᴇ

Triggers:
-talk of self harm
-eating disorder/throwing up
-mention of pills

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I fumbled with my keys as I unlocked my apartment door.

We both went inside, and I ordered Clay to sit down in the bathroom.

He did as he was told, and I went in after him.

"Have you ever gotten in fights before?" I questioned as I searched through my bathroom sink cupboard.

"Wowwww, you think me and my massive muscles have never got in a fight before?"

I rolled my eyes as he flexed his biceps.

"For real though, have you?"

"Ava, I dropped out of high school when I was 16."
"Yeah I know, you've told me about 100 times."

"Oh my god," he muttered, "YES I've been in a fight before. Many fights."

"I could beat you up if I tried I bet," I said, while softly punching him in his chest, popping my mouth for sound effects.

"Same for me towards you, but just remove the "b" from the 3rd word."

I thought for a second to figure out what he meant, before going back to looking for supplies.
I knew exactly what he was insinuating, but I refused to feed his ego.

"What, no reaction?" Clay laughed.

"Not giving you the satisfaction," I stated.

"Ugh, finally I found it."

I told Clay to sit on the edge of the tub.

I emerged with a first aid kit and pulled a chair over to where Clay was.

"Oh damn, I thought I was about to get head."

"I hate you so much."

"You love me."

I didn't answer.

Clay smirked.

I took out some rubbing alcohol and cotton pads, and held one up to Clay's face.

"This is gonna sting, okay?"

"I know."

I touched it to his cut, and he grimaced.

"I'm sorry, It'll be over soon I just gotta clean it up."

As I dabbed the wipe on his cheek, I realized that my emotions were finally catching up to me. I bit my cheek and dug my left hand's nails into my palm.

And the gash I was currently focused on wasn't helping anything.

My stomach churned.

The urge to cut was getting unbearable.

I finished as quickly as I could, and plastered a bandaid over it.

I spent a bit more time just cleaning his face with a damp cloth, then applying some cream to his bruises.

By that point, the realization of what had happened an hour prior had settled.

I did my best to hide it, but I could tell that Clay knew something was off.

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