dsmp oneshots

he wanted someone to see

tw/cw: self-harm, cutting, blood, blades, mentions of pills (pain killers), suicidal thoughts

♡

the crew boys, along with bad, had been living together in a relatively well-sized, six-bedroom house for a couple of months now, the sixth bedroom being renovated into a small office after dream and george announced they found it easier to sleep in the same bed "platonically of course."

which sounds cute, and, out of respect, you should believe what they say about their own relationship, platonic or otherwise. but it was becoming increasingly difficult for the other members of the house to trust what they were saying when they would get awoken at stupid hours in the morning by what you can only assume (because, of course, their relationship is just platonic) was the two boys jumping on the bed.

however, that's irrelevant, because on this particular night, when quackity was out at a party, and skeppy was sleeping around on the sofa bed in bad's room, the house was deadly silent.

too silent for the likes of sapnap, who was sat on the bed in his cold, yet to be renovated, room.

his lights were off and his phone was sitting beside him on the bed playing 'i can't carry this anymore' by anson seabra. in front of him was a shoe-box he'd previously dug out from under his bed, still shut, he was just looking at it. it was taunting him.

he ripped his gaze away from the box as his music quietened for a small ding to signify a notification, he flipped the phone and switched it in to see a simple "big q :] sent you a snap".

he opened up the message to see a short, three of four second video of quackity doing a shot with punz, lopping with the caption "bet u wsh u came now lsoer". he opened his camera and flipped it to face his blanket pushing it down and taking a picture of the black typing out a quick "haha hope ur having fun" before sending it and switching his phone to do not disturb, dropping it back down onto the bed. he looked back at the box.

"mama don't know what it's like to want to die" he quietly sang along, holding back his tears as he opened the box and dumped out its contents. a few band aids, multiple packs of ibuprofen and aspirin, a half broken sharpener, two shavers, a couple (clearly not clean) blades and a single photo fell out onto his bed.

he picked up the photo which had been facing down, throwing it to the side without looking at it, already knowing it was a picture of him and karl laughing on the sofa together. he'd put it in the box hoping it would encourage him to not dig below to the rest of it.

clearly that didn't work.

he moved the tablets and band aids to his bedside cabinet, making a mental note to buy more next time he was in town- and dropped the sharpener and shavers back into the box, moving it to the floor, leaving only the old blades on his bed.

he looked up to his bedroom door, looking out into the hallway where a small, fake plant sat, wired with glistening fairy lights. he thought, maybe he should shut his door, but truth is, he never shut it when he did this. because he wanted someone to see.

maybe that was selfish.

but is it really selfish for wanting someone to save you from yourself?

maybe if someone knew they would help him, and he knew there's no way he could openly tell someone what was wrong, so this was the best he could do.