Lit Cigarettes || Angst/BxB Shots

• Punishments •

MAJOR TRIGGER WARNING

This oneshot focuses on the mindset of somebody with bulimia and a self-harm addiction. It isn't healthy, and is extremely toxic. If you are going through this, or you are recovering, I'm telling you to skip this. Do not read it.

Put yourself above my shitty writing.

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Auryn Verlice hated punishing his stomach, but he knew it was mandatory.

The gagging part is the worst; muscles locking, coughing for air just before the body goes empty just like before the reward of food. It makes the human head pound, and the eyes water and sting like a thousand tiny needles. Sometimes, the nose will run uncontrollably, smearing a pathetic, attention deprived face with a slimy coat of shame and hatred for itself.

However, the taste is rewarding. It allows the brain the knowledge of having done a job well done of teaching the body a great lesson.

Food is earned, not given.

And punishments are mandatory.

All words are the truth.

Auryn ignored that he was shaking again, his head laying against the toilet, breathing heavily. His body was engulfed in shivers while sweat rolled down his neck and down his back.

He stood up from the floor, nearly falling over, only catching himself with an arm on the wall. He stumbled a bit more, attempting to steady himself by taking a deep breath, his heart up in his raw throat. His eyes felt heavy. Too heavy to keep open.

He walked past the mirror, turning towards the reflection, something he didn't even recognize. His face had sunken in, a dead brown staring back at him. His exposed collar bones were caverns, the skin stretched thin across the bone. His eyes moved to his abdomen, staring at the outline of his ribs and felt his body grow desperate to remove more of it. To remove all of it until he was absolutely nothing.

Auryn Verlice hated punishing his skin, but it was mandatory.

The burning part is the best; forcing the skin apart, revealing the worst parts of his insides with the hope of learning from his mistakes by punishment. It makes the human head spin, and the skin bleed and sting like a thousand tiny fires. Sometimes, the eyes will water heavily, smearing a pathetic, attention deprived face with sticky streaks of shame and hatred for itself.

However, the blood is evermore rewarding. It allows the brain the knowledge of having done a job well done of teaching the body a great lesson.

Auryn stared at the trickling drops of crimson spilling onto the floor, his eyes turning towards the discolored pair in front of him that he hadn't even realized. His world suddenly collapsed, a watery wave of words choking him at the sight of them. His exposed collar bones suddenly felt much deeper than caverns, the skin hardly even covering the bone. His arms moved to his abdomen, shielding the sight of the outline of his ribs and the desperation to remove more of it. To remove all of it until he was absolutely nothing.

Osric Livani hated watching him punish himself, but he didn't know what to do.

The terror the body feels at the sight of this is worst; muscles locking, searching for word just to run out of them when it matters the most. It makes the human head swirl, and the eyes water and sting like a thousand tiny needles because it doesn't understand why another human would take it this far. Sometimes, the nose will run uncontrollably in the middle of the night, smearing a terrified but patient face with a slimy coat of disbelief and false courage.

However, nothing is rewarding. It lays false hope into a sinking ship filled with thousands of people with no life jackets or boats in the arctic ocean.

Osric Livani breaks the silence with a steady tone that makes the world stop.

"I'm here, Auryn," Their fingers run through his hair that hasn't been cared for in months. "I'm right here."

And that's all it takes for Auryn Verlice to crumble, his pale and bloody body collapsing into Osric Livani, choked sounds and words tumbling out of him.

Osric doesn't pay mind to the words, their arms protecting him from the outside world as they tuck his head into their chest.

"Don't talk, Auryn."

That control. The control it takes to calm down an inconsolable soul that just wants to get help for the life threatening habits. The habits that ruin every aspect of being alive.

Auryn hated when they cleaned his mess, but he knew they would always do it.

And that terrified him more than covering them in the blood he drew into his skin.