Austeled one-shots

Blood.

Context: They're something unclear and indescribable.

Absolutely humongous trigger warning for self harm and LOTS of descriptions of blood. Read at your own risk. ⚠️

3rd person.

Blood.

That's all the room smelled of.
Just blood.

Rich, sharp iron that suffocated. Intoxicated.

And there was red. Deep, flowing ruby. Coursing like a river from the pale moonlight skin to the withered, dirty sheet.

It pulsed. It burned. It had a heartbeat of its own and lungs to breathe, each breath in sending it sliding further, dripping faster, diving sharper onto the dishevelled bed.

It photosynthesised under the ivory glimmer like a blossoming flower, spreading its beautiful scarlet petals.

A flash of silver. Slipping past. Again. And again. And again.

A glint of argent. Swiping sharply. Again. And again.

A flicker of steel. Cutting gashes. Again.

The pain a sweet relief from the gaping emptiness in his chest. A temporary solution to a lifelong problem. He'd always been miserable. Always would be.

People like him weren't meant to feel happy. Didn't deserve it.

He slumped back, body aching and slack against the headboard. The sharpener blade held loosely between his chewed up fingers, nails jagged and surrounding skin scarred and uneven.

One alabaster light shone in from the coded moonlit sky outside his coded window. Reflecting back was a glimmering ruby. So calming. So serene.

His legs were numb. So were his hands. His heart hammered a lullaby against his chest, lulling him into a cradle of dissociation - thorns coiled around the plush mattress and wooden bars keeping him trapped.

But who would want to leave when suffering felt so calm? Who'd want to feel okay when suffocating felt like a breath of fresh air? When drowning felt like a cool breeze?

But then.
The door cracked open.

Harsh canary streaks flooded in - invasive and uninvited.

He didn't have the energy to move or flinch or hide the wounds and the crimson stained razor in his hand exposed by the lemony light.

A breath of aching, boiling silence.

Then the light disappeared. The door clicked shut.

Loud, heavy footsteps echoed towards the bed. Each one ringing louder than the last.

Then a hand met his. Only briefly. A cold, metallic hand stole the steel from his hand, tossing it in the bin.

"Give it back.." The smaller, weaker man protested. Only to be met with silence.

The bed creaked and dipped as excess weight was added to it.

Then two arms encased - one under the arms and one behind his back. Then a firm tug.

And suddenly he was cradled in the stronger man's lap.

Firm, strong arms wrapped around him like he was the most delicate thing in the world. Then he leaned back, holding the other against him.

"It's okay..." He whispered, words rolling out naturally. "It'll be okay.. I know it doesn't feel it right now, but you'll get through this.. we'll get through this..."

A sob. A wretched, choked sound escaped his throat. A disgusting noise clawed up his raw throat.

And the other held him tighter. Even as the other hugged him back, smearing blood all over his t-shirt. Even as tears covered his chest. Even as snot and spit started to cake his chest too.

Because it wasn't gross to him.

It wasn't unhygienic or wrong.

It didn't matter.

What mattered was the hurting man in his arms.

"Shh.." Sharp yet gentle claws rubbed up and down his back. "It's okay..."

Sharp hics for air cut the silence.
"Let it out... I'm here.. I'm not gonna leave you... I'll stay..."

"I'll stay right here..."
"Right with you..."
"Right by your side..."
"I promise."

Everything was slick with blood. His arm, his pillow, his sheets, his wrist. But that didn't matter.

What mattered is the other would stay. Wouldn't see him as gross or pitiful.

For once, the gaping pain in his chest simmered down.

So he didn't fight the affection.

It was the only thing holding him together but also the thing making him fall apart.

But in that soft moment.

Where his body met a bigger, softer one.

Where a steady warm breath hit his head.

Where arms held his broken soul together.

Part of him broke. While another slowly mended.

The other pulled the covers around them both, cocooning them in their own warmth. It was cosy. Serene in a different way. Because this serenity was shared. This was soft and gentle and warm and sweet.

This felt okay.

Maybe he could feel okay.

Maybe, just maybe he deserved to feel okay right now.

Just this once.

He could let himself feel okay.

Just this once.