Harry Potter smuts And Fluffs

Percy x Oliver

{TRIGGER WARNING!}

[This chapter has drug/alcohol abuse, past cheating, suicide attempt, both past and current, self abuse, and several other dark topics. This chapter isnt as lighthearted as my other stuff so please skip this chapter if any of that bothers you! Percy also has hardcore trust issues because I say so.]

(This is not set in the semi-canon world I have been writing in, this is set in a dark AU I have been wanting to try and write. That means little comfort!)

Percy watched as the other slept, his deep breathing stuttering every now and again. He held him tight, appreciative of what he has. He winced as he felt the rough fabric of Oliver's pajamas pull at a scars on his thigh, dragging across it and making him itch.

He carefully moved himself from the comfortable position, sitting up and feeling nauseated. He dragged himself out of bed, stumbling down to the kitchen. He jerked when the cold air of the fridge hit his bare thighs.

He let out a hoarse laugh, looking through the fridge while trying not to cry. He pulls out a water bottle, one that was barely closed and only a fourth full.

He chugged it quickly, throwing the bottle in the general direction of the bin. He groaned, his head and throat pounding. He went back up the stairs, cuddling back up to Oliver.

In the morning, he groaned and felt emotions boil up in him. He blinked, forcing the tears down.

He knew it was stupid, childish even, but he felt like Oliver just… didn't love him anymore. He was out late, he spent less time with him, and stopped giving him the attention he once had. The only times they really spent time together was sleeping or when they had sex.

Percy knew Oliver wouldn't do that, but he felt his heart ache, and his stomach throb. He slowly made his way downstairs, finding breakfast on the counter. 'not even a note' he thought sadly. He picked at the food, eating very little of it.

He sighed, scraping it into a plastic container. He threw his dish into the sink. He went upstairs, to his office and locked himself in. Doing work was a temporary solution, his brain soon wandering back to Oliver.

Shaking his head, he went through his desk until he found the bottle he was looking for. Uncorking the bottle he poured some into the glass, chugging it quickly. He laughed, disappointed in himself.

He drank through the whole bottle, carefully putting it back into the drawer. He shrugged pulling another bottle, finishing that one quicker than the first. He went through bottle after bottle until Oliver came home.

He barely remembers that night. He doesn't remember being kissed hard and fast, the less than thorough prep, the gnawing on his collar bone. He remembers the unhappy look on Oliver's face during aftercare. He remembers the anger painted across his face when asked to stay.

He remembers the repeat of the cycle, day after day, night after night.

He would drink and drink, trying to drown the pain he felt deep in his soul. He drank until Oliver came home, where they would fuck, no longer soft and sweet like it used to be, as if Percy were a toy for Oliver's pleasure.

When Oliver's day off, the unofficial "date night" between the two, finally came, Percy saw it as a way to spend time together. Maybe figure out what was wrong. But it was a disaster.

The places they went were nice and familiar, Oliver's favorite restaurant, their spot in the woods, and then a relaxing night at home. A simple yet beautiful night that could have helped their relationship.

Oliver hardly put his phone down, only to eat. When they got to the woods all he did was complain, like he did for everything lately. But only with Percy, anyone else he's more than grateful about every little thing.