Band imagines

Vic Fuentes imagine

TRIGGER WARNING

"What's wrong? Do you not like my cooking?" Vic asks, seeing you push the food around your plate, but never actually take a bite.

"Hmm?" You mutter, looking up as you snap out of the trance like state you were in.

"The food, what's wrong with it?" Vic asks again with a caring smile.

"Oh, um, nothing, it's great." You tell him, faking a smile. "I'm just not really hungry." The truth is, the thought of eating what's in front of you makes you feel sick, and your breathing quicken. Of course, there's nothing wrong with the food itself, but you just can't bring yourself to eat it. Vic gives you an odd look, not quite sure whether or not to believe you. He sighs to himself, standing up and taking his own plate over to the sink.

"I've got to go to the studio for an hour or two, will you be all right?" He asks, walking over to stand behind you, snaking his arms around you and resting his chin on your shoulder.

"I'll be fine." You say with a weak smile, trying to convince yourself as much as him.

"Great." Vic smiles. He kisses you on the cheek before saying goodbye, and setting off to the recording studio where he has work to do. As soon as the door closes behind him, you almost breathe a sigh of relief at the thought of no longer having to keep up your façade. You stand up, pushing your chair backwards as you do, and walk over to the bin with your still almost full plate. 

After scraping the contents of it into the bin, you feel much better. Your sleeve slides up a little as you place your plate in the sink, reminding you of the secrets you've been keeping from Vic as you see the slightly fading red lines that mark your skin, and the scarring of your self-inflicted cuts and burns. You deserve it, you think to yourself. For lying to Vic, for being useless; you deserve to be hurt. A tear falls from your eye, slipping down your cheek and you pull your sleeve back down a little, before raising your hand to dry your eyes. You breath in deeply, trying to compose yourself, before you turn on your heel and walk shakily towards the bathroom.  When you reach it, you stare at yourself in the mirror for a while. Why would Vic ever want to be with you? You think to yourself. He probably just pities you. You're pathetic. You can't get those thoughts out of your mind; the idea of not being good enough overwhelming you.

Walking over top the cabinet in the corner, you open it up and reach right towards the back; your usual hiding place, where you know Vic won't look. You feel the cool, hard metal of the blade beneath your fingertips as you pull it out, eyeing it up as it glints in reflection of the light. Your hands are shaking by this point, and your breathing a little erratic.  

You raise the blade in a smooth, flowing movement, but as you're about to being it down on your skin, there's a sudden thud of footsteps, marching up the stairs. You stand up quickly, too quickly, sending the blood rushing to your head and making you dizzy. You stumble around trying to return the sharp metal tool in your hand to it's hiding place, but with no luck as your vision had blurred. The bathroom door swings open, and standing there is Vic.

"What are you...?" His voice trails off as he sees a flash of light reflecting from the object that you're clinging onto. His features crumple into a confused expression.

"Y/N? What are you doing...?" He asks. You've regained your balance, and your vision now, and your face drops. Your reaction is like the missing puzzle piece for Vic; realisation spreads across his face. He knows.

"Have you done this before?" He asks, his voice cracking as he strides over to you and grabs your arms. He glances at your wrists, seeing the slightly fading marks that mark your skin. He looks you directly in the eye, and you can't lie to him anymore. Nodding your head slowly, tears start to run like a river down your cheeks. Vic wraps his arms around your shaking, fragile body.

"This isn't all of it, is it?" He asks you, feeling how dangerously thin you are, and hating himself for somehow being so blind to it all. You shudder, terrified at the thought of him knowing about it all; your eating disorder, harming yourself, the way you've been feeling for so long. But know he knows, and you can't do anything to change that.

"Promise me you'll stop? Please Y/N?" He pleads, desperate for you not to be hurt again. You shake your head sadly, knowing you can't so that.

"I can't do that Vic, you know I can't." You sob. "But I'll try." Your voice is a whisper now; sobs ruin the pattern of your breathing and you're finding it hard to think straight. All you can do is hope that things will seem better in the morning.