||FINISHED|| Pink Roses (JSAB Fresh x Reader)

(Y/N) - Pain

"Oh my sweet Butterfly, what did you do to yourself?" Fresh's eyes widened once he saw my mangled wrists. I opened my mouth to speak but all that happened was that I just broke down crying.

Tears streamed down my cheeks as I tried to say what happened. No voice. Just sobs.

And he didn't even say anything. He just hugged me.

Minutes passed like that in silence, with my head leaning against his bare chest, before he let go of me.

"Why didn't you call me before you cut yourself?" He asked, gently holding my wrists as he examined the scars.

No response. With every word I spoke my throat contracted and prevented me from telling him anything.

"C'mon, let's patch you up." He sighed, taking me by the hand and walked into the bathroom. Even now I still can't stop crying. I can't even breathe without my breaths being interrupted by a dozen sniffs. Fresh gently placed my wrists under the tap, and ran warm water over them. It stung for a split moment, but after a little while the pain started to cease. As the water cleaned my wounds, Fresh bent down and opened the cupboard underneath the sink. And when he came back up, he had a little plastic container the size of a shoebox. When he opened it, there was an array of bandages, creams, ointments, all the like. How come I didn't know there was a first aid kit in my own bathroom? He took a towel, dried my wrists and examined them with focused eyes. Like he was determined. Like he cares. At this point my hiccuping has tamed itself. The tears were still running down my face though. I can't take my eyes off of the red and white stripes that littered my wrists no matter how hard I tried to take my eyes off them. And the feeling in my heart was pure Pain.

Pain.

Pain, like the clawed hand that grasps your heart tightly, sinking its nails deep into your flesh.

Pain, like the black hole that devours your soul, bit by bit, until there's nothing left but an empty shell.

Pain, like the oceans of sorrow that drown you, as the hands of agony drag you deeper, sinking you into a deep, despair-filled, watery grave.

Until a voice broke my trance.

"Okay, Sweetheart, this is gonna hurt a little bit, but just stay with me, okay?"

'O-Okay...'

When he squeezed out a white paste, he instantly applied it on my scars. I felt a sharp sting at my wounds, followed by a warm relief. I sighed. After that, Fresh reached into the box and pulled out a roll of bandages. He wrapped them around my wrists, pure white hiding away the red tainted skin. Once the angry, crimson bloodshed was hidden away from my sight and replaced by a calming white, I finally stopped crying.

"You feeling alright?" Fresh asked, looking in my eyes with a deep concern. Why is he caring about me?

'I guess I'm okay...' I sighed. I avoided his gaze, just staring at the porcelain floor.

"Alright, I'm not taking that for an answer, c'mon." He said, and before I knew it, I was swept off my feet and into his big arms. My eyes widened as he took me back into the main bedroom and propped me down on the bed. He pulled the covers over my shoulders and stroked my hair. I didn't want him to stop. He smiled a tired smile as a look that said "I care" swam around in his eyes. I felt guilty for calling him in the middle of the night over here for me.

"I'm sorry..." I mumbled, still hiccuping a little bit

'For what?'

"For waking you up..."

'Hey, it's fine, really, Butterfly, all that matters is that you're okay.' He smiled widely. 'It's getting quite late, are you feeling tired, Sweetheart?'