Trigger Warning- references self harm
.I think he's sad.
Ash stares off at nothing, a permanent frown staining his porcelain face.
I frown, looking at his saddened features. Reaching a delicate hand out to him, which he cautiously accepts, I mumble. "Ash..."
He sighs, holding my hand to his lips, cold comfort engulfing my fingers.
"Ash, you-"
He quietly interrupts me, shame holding the room hostage. "James, I cut myself."
He was supposed to be the pure one, the happy one. What's he doing?
I stay silent, thinking of all the stories I could try to tell to make him feel better, like I can relate to him.
But everything sounds fake.
He took a blade and cut open his beautiful, blank canvas. I took a blade and slashed at damaged goods.
He's as close to perfection as it gets.
Why did he cut?
"Ash... I'm here for you. I think you're amazing, and I'll always be here for you."
Small whimpers could be heard from trapped inside his throat.
I bring my other hand to his head, brushing his short hair behind his ears. "I think you're beautiful and have so much to offer this world. You're as unique as it gets, you are the closest thing to perfection I have."
Warm, salty tears roll down his cheeks and rest on my hand, before sliding down my arm and slowly dripping onto the floor.
His broken voice breaks the deafening silence. "I hate this place. I hate my family. They don't care. I want to leave with you."
I nod, tears staying trapped behind the prison doors of my eyelids. "I know. We're leaving once we're 18."
He sobs, still holding my hand with shaking and delicate fingers. "Promise?"
"I promise to you, Ash Rokan, we will leave this hellhole together."
