THE BLACK PHONE CAST/CHARACTERS IMAGINES & ONESHOTS

Reaction to Y/n $e!f h@rm!ng (Major TW for this chapter):

Major TW for this chapter. If this makes you uncomfortable, please do not read. I am not writing this chapter as a way to romanticize mental health issues. If anything, this chapter is going to be a way for me to show awareness through something that I love, writing. As someone who struggles with bad mental health and even sh, the responses each boy gives 'y/n' is going to be a version of a response i wish i could have gotten when people began to find out. Again this chapter is for awareness purposes only. There will be no degrading for the sh, no bullying that led up to it, just the characters i have been writing about and their reactions and how they try to help. Mental health is not a joke and not something to romanticize. Stay safe! And remember I respond to most comments and if anyone needs to talk my Snapchat is set to public, feel free to message it. ❤️
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Finney:
I never meant for him to find out. I didn't want to worry him. He has so much more to worry about. I forgot he was supposed to be coming over. I didn't even know he was standing in the door way until I heard his voice.
"Y/N? What are you doing?"
"Finney! It's nothing!"
I yanked the sleeve of my sweatshirt down and watched him walk over to me and sit next to me on my bed. He grabbed my arm causing me to wince. I tried to pull away, but he had a firm grip on my wrist. He lifted the sleeves and examined my forearm. He looked at the cuts. The new ones and the old ones. The scarred over ones and the fresh ones with beads of blood rolling out.
"Y/N, what happened? How did this happen?"
The look on his face didn't show his cluelessness, the exact opposite actually. It showed understanding in pain. He knew exactly where the cuts came from, he knew exactly what happened and he knew exactly who out them there. Me.
"Why?"
Tears began to roll down his cheeks. He attempted to hide them, probably not wanting to upset me more, but I saw them. I saw how his heart shattered just by looking into his eyes.
"I don't know."
At this point, I was crying too. He let go of my arm and got up. My heart ached. He was leaving me. Definitely. Who would want someone like me anyway?
But he didn't leave. He came right back, and sat in his original spot and grabbed my arm just like before, only softer. He had bandages, a rag and alcohol spray with him. He sprayed the alcohol onto the rag and held it over my arm.
"This may hurt. Grab my arm and squeeze if you need to."
He gently pressed the rag onto my arm. A burning sensation ran through my skin. It hurt, bad. I did exactly as he told me to and grabbed his arm that was holding the rag and squeezed it hard. I began to cry a little, half because of the pain and half because I was scared I was hurting him.
"It's okay. Just a little more."
Once he was finished cleaning the cuts, he began to bandage my arm. This process didn't hurt as bad as the last but it still hurt some. Once he was finished, he took the rag and the spray back to my bathroom and came back. I wanted to tell him what was bothering me and what caused this, but I just wasn't ready.
"I don't expect you to tell me 'why" right now, but I do want some answers eventually. Okay?"
"Okay."
He looked at me and smiled.
"I love you, you know that, right?"
"Yes."
"Good. I don't know what I would do with out you. I couldn't live with myself if this was happening and I didn't try to help."
I began to yawn. It had been a long day and I was tired. I lied my head on his shoulder and looped one of my arms around his and began to drift to sleep.
"Sleep well, angel."

Robin:
I have to tell him. I can't hide it from him anymore. Robin and I are sitting in his backyard, watching the stars. The dim street light cast a yellow hue into the yard, leaving just enough light to see small details.
"Robin, I need to show you something. Promise not to be mad."
He looked confused and taken aback by this statement.
"Why would I be mad?"
"I don't know. Just please don't be."
He nodded his head. I hesistantly rolled up my sleeve and grabbed his hand, guiding it to the scars on my arm.
"Holy shit! What happened?"
Tears began to form in my eyes.
"Robin, these are my scars. I put them there."
In the dim light, you could see that a few were still bleeding, from recent activities.
"How long?"
"6 months."
He pulled his hand away and wiped the little blood on to his jeans. He reached behind his head and untied the bandana holding his hair back. Grabbing my arm again, he wrapped the bandana around the area that was still bleeding.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
He looked concerned.
"I want to, just not right now. I just want to sit and watch the stars for now, if that's okay?"
"Of course, mi amor."