MCYT angst oneshots

Relapse

Tommy
- self harm
- eating disorder (briefly)
- passive suicidality (also briefly)

(Brought to you by my relapse ❤️)
(This is dumb)

Tommy sat on his bedroom floor with his knees pulled tightly against his body. All he could think about was the kit he had hidden under his nightstand. He had been clean for almost 8 months now, and everyone assumed he was getting better. They didn't know what he had been hiding.

Still, through every bad day of not allowing himself to eat and nights spent crying, he hadn't cut. Why did he even want to do it now? Maybe it was the timing. Summer was coming up soon. He had only a few weeks left before he would be expected to go out with friends. A few weeks could be long enough for some cuts to heal, as long as he didn't go too deep, but time was ticking away. If he wanted this, he had to do it now.

He knew he shouldn't. He knew that just by sitting here on the floor instead of calling a friend or going for a walk or even just getting into bed and scrolling Tiktok, he had already failed. He knew better than this. He knew what would happen next.

Still, it wasn't too late yet. He could still get up and forget about what happened.

He held his breath.

If only it were so easy.

Tommy pulled the small bag out. It was filled with a stack of bandages, bloodied tissues, and various sharp materials. His favorite was the dermablade, discrete yet still sharp. He removed the necessary materials and stared at the blade in his hand, debating his options. His body screamed to be cut
His skin felt like static. Yet, he was having a hard time actually making the cut. It had been such a long time. Was he ready? He had to be. God, why was he being such a baby?! Just do it already!

Tommy traced over the exposed skin on his hip with the blade, not hard enough to draw any blood, but enough to irritate the skin. There were a handful of perfect white scars across his previously unscathed hip. They looked so beautiful, he almost felt bad covering them up with fresh wounds. Oh well. These would scar too.

Tommy shut his eyes and made the first cut. It was barely enough to break the skin. Frustrated, he drew the blade across his skin again, harder this time. Still not enough. He switched to vertical cuts and pressed firmly. Now blood started to bead out of the cuts. He steadied his hand to avoid getting carried away. He didn't want to use too many bandages to cover these, since he felt they were a waste on him. They could be going to someone more deserving.

Tommy stared down at his bloodied hip. He took one of the tissues and pressed it against the cuts to soak up some of the blood, then haphazardly stuck three bandages over them. They stung for a while before he just forgot about them altogether and climbed into bed to check his phone. He hoped that there might be a message from someone who somehow knew he wasn't doing well urging him to stop, but there was nothing out of the ordinary.

Tears welled up in his eyes. 8 months down the drain for nothing, nothing at all. Did he even regret it? He wasn't so sure. It didn't hurt anymore. It didn't change anything. What was even the point? Why did he do it? His own actions didn't make sense to him. He had no reason to cut, but he still wanted to anyway. Why?

He sighed and put his phone down.

The world wouldn't change if he wasn't in it.

Why try?