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I'm not leaving (Nate Maloley)

TRIGGERS: SELF HARM - CUTTING 

I tried not to romanticize anything, especially self harm. I'm putting it out there that in no way am I saying that having a boyfriend automatically solves your problems, but having a support system does.

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I sat on the bathroom floor, bawling my eyes out as the blood from my wrist started to stain the tiles underneath me. I felt as if the physical pain I inflicted upon myself couldn't compare to the emotional pain that was building up inside of me.

Don't get me wrong, there was nothing wrong with Nate and the way he treated me, but there were other problems going on that I couldn't handle. I didn't say a word to Nate, in fear he wouldn't know how to deal with me and just not want to deal with me altogether.

As I finally realized that Nate would be home at any moment, I found the strength to get up from the cold floor and clean myself up. I hid the objects I used to cut myself with, cleaned any area that had blood, and threw on a long sleeved shirt. I quickly ran downstairs to the refrigerator and grabbed a few ice cubes and a wash cloth, then slowly rubbing the ice around the areas that gave away the fact I was crying. This started to become a daily routine for me.

I hear the front door unlock and I start to panic, cursing under my breath. He came home earlier than he usually does and the fact that it still looked like I just finished crying made me realize that I needed to lie to him, which was something I absolutely hated. His footsteps neared the kitchen and soon enough, he was standing in the walk way with concern in his eyes as he saw what I was doing.

"Baby, what's wrong?" He asked, walking over to me.

"Don't worry, Nathan. Nothing bad happened to me; I was watching Furious 7 and you know how emotional I get towards the end," I lied, knowing he'd believe me because it was like me to do that. I added a chuckle to convince him that everything was okay. "Do you want something to eat?" I asked, trying to change the subject as I threw the ice cubes in the sink for it to melt.

"Nah, the boys and I ordered pizza at the studio. Thanks though." He smiles, giving me a quick peck on the cheek. "I'm going to take a quick shower and maybe we can watch a movie? One that isn't emotional?" He laughed as he walked out the kitchen and up the stairs to the bedroom.

I playfully roll my eyes and I nodded. "Sure, you can choose it this time!" I called out as he was already half way up the stairs. I sighed in relief when he wasn't in sight. I lifted my sleeve to expose my wrist, which was still bleeding even with it bandaged up. As I tried to recollect myself before facing him again, I realized it was too quiet. The water wasn't running, there were no footsteps, it was just silence and it got me worried.

I made my way upstairs and into our shared bedroom with the attached bathroom. That's when I saw him, sitting on the foot of the bed with the items I used to cut myself with. He examined the items as if it was evidence of a crime, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion, then realization started to settle. He looked at me through the full length mirror and I could feel guilt perch into my stomach and I felt like I was going to throw up. I clutched my abdomen area, trying to hide the wrist I inflicted pain on.

"You weren't watching a movie, were you?" He asks softly.

There was definitely no lying my way out of this when he already knew the answer, so I shook my head. "No." My voice sounded almost like a whisper and I heard it starting to crack. "I lied." I admit, probably making things even worse.

He looked down at the box I held my razor blades, rubber bands, cotton pads, bandages, and rubbing alcohol in. He places it next to him on the bed and stands from where he sat, turning to face me. His eyes darted to the wrist that I was trying to hide. I shift uncomfortably and avoided eye contact.

"Why? Why would you do that to yourself?" He asked, slightly angry at the idea that I was hurting myself.

I didn't want to answer his question so I simply shrugged my shoulders and crossed my arms tighter, thinking it would act as a shield.

"Y/N, there has to be a reason. What is it? Is it me? Did I do something wrong? Tell me." He stepped closer to me, causing me to step back. I didn't want him near me after knowing the secret I tried to keep from him.

I scoffed, slightly annoyed at the assumption he had, thinking it was all about him. "Not everything is about you, Nate." I snapped.

"Then what is it? Talk to me, Y/N. Why are you hurting yourself?" He was definitely upset. His voice cracked as if he was holding onto every last bit of willpower not to break down in front of me. "What am I doing wrong? Baby, I thought it was clear that we'd help each other get through any difficulties we faced in life?" He asked.

The guilt overwhelmed me and I felt my eyes sting and hot tears started to fall. "It is clear..." I mumble, wiping the tears that fell. I managed to look at him, but I wish I didn't. He was hurt. He looked sick to his stomach and it was all my fault. "Everything's my fault, Nate. I'm sorry." My voice shook as I spoke. "I wouldn't blame you if you left right now and didn't –" I was cut off by his tight embrace that made me completely break down in tears.

"I'm not leaving you. Okay? I'm not leaving because I love you, Y/N. I love you." He kept repeating the words 'I love you' over and over as I cried.

After losing track of how long I was crying and calming myself down, I finally opened up to him about everything I was bottling up inside. We sat there on our bedroom floor, leaning against our bed, with me spilling every emotion I had while Nate sat there and listened for hours, with his arm around me keeping me close to his body. As soon as I let everything out I felt a little better, but silence fell upon us for a few seconds until Nate finally spoke up.

"What can I do to help prevent you from hurting yourself again?" He asked, holding my hand as he moved my hair out of my face.

I shrugged and leaned into his shoulder, watching him play with my fingers. "I guess talking is one way," I added, staring at the wall in front of us.

He lifted his knee and rested his forearm on it. "What about reassurance?" He asked as I wrapped my arms around his torso. I simply nodded my head and I felt his hand rub up and down my arm. "Good, because Y/N, I need you to understand that I'm not going anywhere. I'll be here to talk; to do anything you want. I'll be here through any relapse you might have, praying there isn't any, but there could be. I know this isn't something that isn't going to go away because you have a boyfriend who's going to help you out, you need a support system and I need you to know that I'm part of that, okay?"

I looked up at him, surprised at the words that came out of his mouth. I found myself giving him a smile. "God, I'm so lucky to have you." I tell him, planting a kiss on his plumped lips. Even through this emotional madness, he still managed to be the best boyfriend a girl could ask for.