Kill me faster, with strawberry gashes all over.
Ryan didn't know why. To him, cutting was like art. The way ruby, red blood slowly made its way down the sides of Ryan's wrist, leaving red stains on the white carpet, and a pink-tint colored on Ryan's skin. The pain felt good. But Ryan loved the way the design the cuts made once they were cleaned up.
When Ryan woke up, the first thing he would do was look at his cuts, smiling. A thin, red mark that was left. Not just one. There was always more than one. But Ryan was a very sensitive. He was like a vanilla ice cream cone on a hot summer day. He fell apart easily, stressed out at the minor problems.
But he had Brendon. He was always there. Brendon knew of course, what Ryan did. Whenever Ryan cut, cried, had a breakdown, Brendon always sat him done, held Ryan close and had Ryan talk it out. But the thing was, Ryan couldn't stop cutting. It was Ryan's drug that he never got enough of.
Once Brendon hid everything sharp into a cardboard box and hid it under their bed. Ryan had a tantrum. Yelling, crying, screaming, begging Brendon that he needed it. Sometimes Brendon tied Ryan’s ankles and wrists while they were both watching a movie. Hoping that it would be a distraction for Ryan. They got to the first fifteen minutes of the film until Ryan started squirming, crying and whining.
But that was before. And now, it’s fifteen times worse. It was eleven in the morning, and they were both already awake. Ryan was lying in their bed, in just his pajamas, crying. Brendon sitting beside him, fully-dressed, trying to calm him down. Brendon always woke up before Ryan did. It was always nice to watch his angel sleep. At least until now.
Brendon had Ryan pinned to their bed. Ryan had insisted on going to cut, but Brendon wouldn’t let him. No matter what much it hurt him to watch his boyfriend like this.
“Brendon~” Ryan whines, as his honey-colored eyes were glazed over with tears, as he struggles against Brendon arms. All Brendon did was shake his head, telling Ryan the same thing he had been telling him for four monthes. “No,” Brendon says firmly.
Ryan wailed, wiggling even more. “P-please! I n- need it!” Ryan cries out, his face damp with tears. Brendon sighs softly. “Baby, no.”
Brendon slowly loosens his grip on Ryan, causing Ryan to nearly hop off. Ryan’s feet didn’t even make it onto the floor when he started to move away, but was stopped by Brendon’s strong arms around his waist. “Brendon~” Ryan cries, as he was seated on Brendon’s lap. “Shh,” Brendon coos softly to Ryan, holding him close. Ryan clung onto his waist, as his crying gradually got quieter.
It worked this time, Ryan seemed to calm down. Brendon holds Ryan close in his lap, rubbing his back. “Let’s go eat, okay?” Brendon suggests softly, petting Ryan’s hair a bit. Ryan nodded, looking down. Brendon sighs softly. This was usual behavior for Ryan when he managed to get Ryan to get back to normal. Ryan wouldn’t talk. It was like the silent treatment.
Yeah, this is just an idea I've had. It's all up to you and your reviews, whether I should continue this one. :)