Oh Those Eyes, Oh Those Lips, Oh That Smile (a Peterick FanFic)

Im okay

(Pete's POV)

He said it

He said it. The three words I had been waiting for. I. Love. You. And he said it.

We laid on the couch, snuggling close since he got home. The sun was almost down and we still sat there watching too many romantic comedies on Netflix. The clock showed 1 am when we decided to go upstairs to go to bed. We made our way through the darkness holding hands. I followed him into the room and turned on the light.

"Pete."

"Yeah" I said turning around.

"Pete, I'm sorry about, you know... Earlier" he went and sat on the bed.

"Patrick" I said standing in front of him. "You don't have to apologize. If you aren't ready, you aren't ready. I'm not going to push you." Why couldn't he just see that he did nothing wrong with not being ready. I kneeled down to look him in the eyes. "Patrick I love you"

He flashed me a smile but returned to his dark state. "Patrick baby what's wrong?"

"Its nothing"

"Patrick. Hon, what's wrong?" I said lifting his chin to see me.

"I... Its not that I didn't want to. I mean no I'm not ready... But um.." He was struggling. "I'm just... Its stupid."

"What is it?"

"Its um.... This" he slowly lifted up his shirt to reveal a huge, purple bruise.

"Oh my god." I touched the tender skin and he winced. "I didn't know it was this bad." He tried to put his shirt back down but something caught my eye.

"Patrick.." I said quietly lifting up his shirt so I could see. My vision started to blur when I saw. Under the hem of his shirt peeked several small lines. Each bright red. I pulled down his pants a little to get a better look. More cuts revealed themselves. "Patrick why?" I trembled as I looked up to him, but only could see a blur through tears.

"I don't know" he responded crying as well. His body shook against mine.

"Is.... There more?" I got out. I could feel hot tears streak down my face and drip off of my face. I did my best to wipe them away as patrick pulled up his sleeves. Each wrist was coated in millions of scars. Some deep, some shallow. Some new, some old. An array of red marks. I cried even harder. I took his wrist gently and ran a finger across the marks. Crying, I kissed his wrist, planting one kiss after another. He seemed to tremble as well. I moved on to his other wrist, doing the same as before. Then I moved down to his hips. I kissed each cut, trying to make sure my tears didn't drop onto them.

"Patrick" I finally said looking up at him.

"Yeah" he trembled still sobbing.

"Please, never do this to yourself again." I held both his hands firmly. He only nodded.

"Promise me."

"I promise" he shook.

"If you stop..." I hesitated. Should I tell him? Should I really tell him? "Then I'll stop."

He looked confused for a minute but got to message. I slowly lifted my sleeves revealing a similar picture. He started to ball again taking both my wrists. He ran fingers up and down them sending small shocks of pain.

"I promise" he said again looking me in the eyes. He knew I had no explanation for the cuts. He knew that he shouldn't push.

"Patrick I love you so much. You know that right?"

"I love you too" he said kissing me slowly. I could taste his tears and surely he could taste mine. Moments like these are perfect. But not when the one you love is hurting themselves.