STRANGER THINGS IMAGINES

-Blood-

(SENSETIVE TOPIC-MENTION OF SELF HARM)

The room stank of bleach, the harsh smell clinging to your clothes and hair. You knew that others around you could smell it, but it was better than them seeing what littered your skin underneath the sleeves of your shirt. You stepped out of the public bathroom that was backed onto the park, grass covered in white snow. You pulled your coat closer around your body, pushing your hands into your pockets and quickly walking across the snow covered park. 

You trudged through the snow towards the Byers' household, watching as the air around you curled and shifted as your warm breath mixed with it. You walked until a familiar old car pulled up beside you. You smiled slightly, walking towards it as a boy rolled down the window of the front seat.

"Y/N, hop in." Will Byers smiled up at you, brown eyes shining. You nodded your head slightly, walking towards the back and opening the door. You slid across the leather seat, doing your belt before turning to the front. Will started chatting aimlessly about the new drawings he was working on, gazing out the window as the world passed in a blur, and all you could do was nod your head along to what he was saying. Jonathan had his hands on the wheel, eyes focused on the road ahead. He sent you a small smile as he glanced at the overhead mirror, catching your eye for a moment, before Will was pulling you back into the conversation with a tone of excitement. 

The car let out a soft whine as it came to a stop outside the Byers residence, Will pushing open his door and grabbing his back pack before bolting inside the house. You stepped out slowly, shutting the door behind you, and looking around for a moment. The tall trees billowed around you, loose leaves and piece of grass picking up from the ground and rushing around. The wind howled slightly, and you couldn't help the pathetic whimper that was released from your lips when you realized there was a storm heading your way. 

A hand placed itself over yours, fingers touching fingers in a way of comfort. Jonathan gazed at you with a look of slight concern plastered on his face, but you sent him a quick smile and walked towards the front door of the old house. He followed behind you, your hand still in his as you led him through the sitting room the brown wooden door that opened to his bedroom. He closed the door behind him, peeling off his jacket and hanging your satchel on a hook. 

That's when you felt it, the slight pulsing in the skin of your wrist, the small flare of pain whenever you moved it. You ignored it, pushing the sleeve of your shirt over it, trying to mask the thick bandages. 

"How was your day?" The question pulled you out of your thoughts, making you turn to look at Jonathan from where he stood next to you. He cupped your cheek with his hand as you tried to send a small smile his way.

"It was fine I guess, nothing interesting happened. I did have to deal with Mr Stone trying to ask me out on a date, but other then that, everything was fine." Jonathan shook his head for a moment, pulling you into him as he sat down on the bed. 

"That sounds more eventful than my day." You leaned your head against his shoulder for a moment, silence filling the space between you, when suddenly, his hand came up to brush against your wrist, earning a hiss of pain from you. Quickly you stand up, pulling yourself away from him and holding your wrist to your chest. 

"Y/N, did I hurt you? What happened to your wrist?" He stood up, stepping closer to you, but once again you shied away. 

"It's nothing Jonathan, just a little scratch, honestly didn't know I had it." He shook his head, placing a hand on his hip as he sent you a crestfallen look. 

"It's not just nothing, Y/N. You're hurt. But if you show me what's wrong, maybe I can help you." You looked down at your feet, before glancing at him for a moment. He sends you a weak, worried smile, as you offer him your arm. He rolls the sleeve up, revealing the bandage that is stained with red. He lets out a soft sigh, slowly rolling off the bandage to show the blood that oozed out of the horizontal cuts. They littered your skin, starting at the edge of your wrist to half way up your fore arm, fresh and old, scarred and opened. 

Jonathan blinked for a moment as you tried to stifle a sob, pressing your free hand to your mouth. He led you to the bathroom, sitting you down on the edge of the bath and pulling out a medical kit from under the sink. He grabbed a cloth, wetting it under the tap before gently dabbing it against your skin, cleaning the cuts. He cut a strip of bandage, wrapping it around your forearm, before securing it with a clip.

And then he sat back, below you on the floor. He took your good hand in his, pressing a kiss to the knuckles. The two of you sat in silence, the last of the sobs gently wracking your body, and Jonathan just holding your hand. 

"I'm not going to ask you why you were doing that to yourself, for two reasons." You sucked in a breath as he started talking. "The first reason, because I already have a good idea why you were harming yourself. And the second reason, because I don't want to put you through more pain." You nod, quietly listening to him as he spoke, and you lowered yourself to the ground where he sat, cool tile against hot skin. "All I want to do, is to ask you to try, try and stop. Don't let the pain overcome you, or tell you that you are weak or pathetic, because you, are none of those things. And I ask you to do this, come to me when you're in pain, come to me when you need someone to talk to or lash out at or even when you just need to sit in silence. Because I care about you, so so much Y/N. And I hate seeing you in pain when I know I can somehow help. So please stop doing this to yourself, please."

He wrapped an arm around your waist, pressing you to his side and kissing your temple. You only could nod, no words escaping your lips, but a nod was good enough for him. And soon he was lifting you up gently, taking care to not touch your arm, and carrying you to bed as the tears dried on your cheeks. 

You felt safer then, not overly better, but safer and warmer and loved. And for the moment, that was all you needed. Someone to be there when you fell, and couldn't get back up, someone to care when you were in a hole so deep you couldn't escape it without tearing yourself in two. With his arms wrapped around you, and his mouth next to your ear whispering comforting words into your ear, the two of you fell asleep, with the belief that everything would get better soon.

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