♡ AweSamPonk Oneshots [book 2] ♡

I'm not ok... I never was

Warnings: mentions of suicidal ideals, suicidal thoughts, self harm, overall dark themes, minor fluff, angst, vomiting, trauma

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[Point of View: Sam]

"I'm not worth anything... am I...? ...Of course not..."

I wince as I dig the razor into the already formed cut, deepening it slowly, stroke after stroke. My hand shakes as blood begins to pool at the site, coming away on the razor and making me sick.

As I go to deepen the wound further, my hand falters, pulling away. I stare at myself in the mirror before me. What lead to this?

I began to dry heave as the sight of my own blood got to me, causing me to open the lid and lean over the toilet. I sat there on my knees for some time, waiting for that ever familiar feeling of bile rising in my throat, but it never came.

Before I lost feeling in my legs, I got back up, confident I wouldn't lose my breakfast. Before I looked at myself in the mirror again, I took a piece of toilet paper and wiped away the blood. I didn't want to see it again...

I put a bandaid on the wound before gazing at my reflection. I was so used to the beaten down and deteriorating image before me, it's hard to remember what I looked like before.

I scowled, ripping the bandaid off and grabbing the razor once more. I didn't care if I got sick. I did it anyways.

As my teary eyes came to rest on my now bloodied hands, I froze. The front door to my house opened slowly, and before I could do or say anything, there was a shorter person clinging to me, hugging me so tightly and worriedly saying so many things at once.

All I could do was stare at him. Him and his perfect self.

The next thing I knew, I was sat on the toilet seat, with him, Ponk, cleaning and bandaging my wound, while scolding me in a worried tone. He saw the razor. He saw the blood. He saw the tears. He saw it all.

× [Point of View: Ponk]

I was shaking violently as my hands travelled over Sam's face, caressing it and trying to comfort him, along with myself.

As I pulled my hands away, blood came with them, coating my fingers in the sickly slick substance.

"S-Sam-?"

My hands shook as I caressed him, my each move thought through and gentle, not wanting to hurt nor scare him.

He was like a wild stag, majestic, feral, unpredictable. Everything I should avoid. But I needed to help him, I would feel wrong if I didn't. He is my friend.

- Ponk's heart shattered into a million pieces at the sight of his everything 'standing' before him, bloody razor in hand and a now seeping wound across his cheek. -

× [Point of View: Sam]

My body began to shake uncontrollably as Ponk now held me close, saying soft words of comfort and making me look at him instead of my reflection in the mirror.

"You're so beautiful, like nothing I've ever seen... Every beauty has its flaw, but not self inflicted... Every beauty has their downfalls, their down moments... They need to ask for help... Please, ... Sam, ... get help...."

The words fell upon my ears with a heart shattering resonance, causing me to break down, tears slipping down my face as I hugged Ponk tightly and allowed the loud sobs to wrack my tired body.

In my mind, I loved Ponk with every part of my being, I borderline worshipped him, giving him gifts of my love and much, much more. I loved him so, so much, it hurt so very badly. But alas, it was unrequited love. It was never meant to be.

× [Point of View: Ponk]

I held Sam close, allowing him to cry on my shoulder. I felt so, very, bad for him... He means so much to me, he's always been my best friend. I wish I could give the world to him, for he is so kind and caring, often being treated the opposite of that, yet taking it like a king.

I knew he loved me, and not as a friend, not platonically, but I could never bring myself to return that love. I love him in many ways, but romantically was not one of them. I still care greatly for him, as he's always been by my side and I by his.

Seeing him so beat up and worn down tore my heart in two, it made me feel helpless in the situation, as all I could do was tell him to get help, when he normally helped me in similar situations himself. Maybe I'm just a bad friend.

As I held him close, I began to softly rub his back, hoping to somehow ease the pain he felt, both physically and mentally.

× [Point of View: Sam]

It hurt. It all hurt so bad. The pain was unbearable, all I wanted to do was die. I just wanted the sweet release of death- to leave this world behind- but I couldn't ever go through with it... I could never go through with it because of him... if I were to go through with it, Ponk would be alone... I couldn't do that to him...

As my thoughts swirled and danced within the beautiful chaos that is sorrow, something pierced through them like a fish hook through flesh. A soft melody drifted through the air, finding residence within my ears and soothing the raging storm that was my mind.

As the melody continued, I softly joined in, my broken voice joining that of an angel's. It was a terribly sorrowful sound, two voices joining into one, one broken and the other perfect.

I pulled away from Ponk slightly to look him in the eyes, our voices creating an odd illusion, a beautifully broken unison.

My love for the man before me nearly choked me silent, but I let it go, admiring him. I knew I would never be anything more than his friend, and I was content with that. Being his friend, or even being in his life, was enough for me. Ponk was the one person- one thing- I will never regret seeing. The one thing I will never come to resent nor hate.

An unnatural inner peace settled upon me in that moment, the realization that being here was enough, calming my suicidal ideals.

For once, once in my traumatic life, I felt something... I felt that this relationship- this lasting interaction- was meant to be.