Sanders Sides Onshots Book 2 {COMPLETED}

Dull Au (LAMP)

Unedited

I feel lousy and I don't know why. It's like nothing feels right, and I want to cry, but I can't, and everything is amplified, and I want one specific person, but I have no one, and I need a hug. Why am I so complicated and why is it always this? Sorry.

T.W. Kind of graphic self harm, and toxic relationship.

How dull can one be before they lose everyone? Virgil sighed and rolled onto his stomach, he'd been awake all night, and he couldn't sleep, nor could he find any motivation to get up. His gaze trailed to the clock, and he sighed, 5:30. He could get up, and get ready for school, wait until his boyfriend texts him, and leave. Or, he could lay in bed and wait until his boyfriend texts him, then get up, and rush. Despite the latter sounding better, he got up, and went to the bathroom, unable to stay in bed any longer. He looked at the mirror above the sink, and pressed his hands palm down on the sink, his shoulders rising up, his head fell down, hanging, looking at the porcelain. He forced his gaze up, and almost shuddered at his reflection. He wanted to punch the reflective surface, but he knew how bad his boyfriend would get if he did. He gripped the surface, and forced his mind to stop thinking about the bad situation he was in. He grit his teeth, and pulled his sleeves up, turning away from the mirror, and grabbed the razor from the cabinet. He pressed the cool metal to his wrist, and hissed in pain. He wasn't going to stop from a minor pain, he continued to draw blood, and in a twisted way, it helped him forget about his life. He put the razor down, and realised how much of a mess he'd made, and how annoyed his boyfriend would be.

"People frown at you, you self harm, and you show your scars. You're ugly."

"I only show my scars because you insist I wear short sleeves."

He grabbed Virgil's wrist, causing him to wince slightly, "Don't talk to me like that. From now on, you do it so no one can see, or I'll do it for you."

Virgil, since then, had cut his wrists, stomach, thighs, and occasionally his forearms. In a morning, he would go to his wrists, and reopen old wounds, he'd soon cover them over with foundation, causing a hint of red to show through, making it look like old scars. As soon as he got home, if his boyfriend wasn't with him, he'd go to his thighs, he'd pull off his jeans, and look at the cuts littering his legs, and he's sigh. The skin on his thighs were less tolerant of the pain, so it would take him a little longer to hurt himself adequately. Sometimes, if he lay awake all night, and had a razor in his bedside table, he'd pull it out and make a few small lines on his stomach and hips, however, it was rarer to find him hurting there. His boyfriend had stayed true to his words, and if he found any new lines on Virgil's wrist, he'd slide a razor down Virgil's thighs, whilst sitting on him, forcing him to be still. Most of the time, Virgil would only let out a small hiss, but occasionally, he'd cry out in pain, unable to keep the noise contained. When his boyfriend did hurt him, the cuts would run deeper, and there would be more, then he'd be left to clean himself up. Not only would he have to clean himself up, but he'd have to clean up any blood that falls onto the floor.

"Pathetic." He sat atop Virgil's stomach, most of his weight on his own legs, and the razor in his hands. He leaned down, one hand propping himself up, between Virgil's legs, the other coming down to the soft flesh of Virgil's thighs. The razor was dragged across the skin, and blood immediately seeped out, a slight hiss of pain was heard, but other than that, it was silent. The razor was dragged across his thigh 6 more times, a threat lingering in the air, causing no sound to be made, until it came to the 6th cut, a cry out rang in the room, both knew what was coming. "2 more." A calm, yet ruthless voice came from the male atop Virgil. His boyfriend moved to Virgil's other thigh, and copied his actions, no sound came from Virgil, too afraid of the threat of more pain. His boyfriend climbed off him, and pressed a forceful, lust-filled kiss to his lips, before pressing his hands to Virgil's bloodied thighs, eliciting a hiss of pain. "Clean up." Virgil obliged, too afraid to defy him.