Suicide Is Sweet

( mini A/N: I'm not gunna say the Y/N explanation at the top anymore, because I'm sure you understand by now )

TW: MENTIONS OF S/H, BEING SUICIDAL, AND GORE

Y/N's POV:

"Oncie? Are... you ok...?" You back from the hug, to see him with a sad expression.

"I don't know.." He whispers, voice cracks according to his crying. He wipes away his tears.

"I don't know..." He repeats, under his breath.

"Oncie... please tell me.." you start to tear up, Seeing him cry like this. It looks as if he's never trusted anyone this much.

"No... I'm not okay. I feel so... scattered. I don't feel myself anymore. I don't know who I am, or want to be."

A heavy, sad silence creeps into to room.

After a few moments, he says;

"I don't feel anything."

He sniffles a few times, before continuing.

"I haven't been completely honest either. I'm..."He sighs, his voice shaking.

"I do self harm. And... uhm..."He gulps in nervousness.He fidgets with his fingers, gaining up the little courage he needed at the moment.Then he finally spoke, in a rasp, shaking, whispering voice.

"Suicidal..."

You freeze.

'He's so kind and sweet... how..?' You thought.

After realizing this moment is real, your real, he's real, everything is real...

You absolutely break down, and hug him while crying.

"It'll be ok..." you whisper, while he's softly crying in your arms.

"It'll be ok..." you repeat, reassuring yourself and him.

"I just hate myself so much... what did I do to deserve the pain and suffering my family gave me? Where did I go wrong..?" He cries out, in anger and sadness.

"You did nothing wrong. It's not your fault you happened to love such bad people. You did absolutely nothing to deserve all of this pain.." you reply, in a soft, calm tone, with a voice crack or two.

"No... I did. That's why they hate me. It's because I'm not like other guys.."

"Why's that?"

"Because apparently I like too many feminine things..." He looks at you in the eyes, after saying this.

"Nothing is too feminine or masculine, Oncie, those are just hurtful stereotypes."

"What...? Wait, really? You... you mean it?" He says, his voice brightening up.

"Yeah. I will..." Your voice trails off as you see the s/h scars and cuts on his wrists, them peeking out of his a sleeve.

He notices you noticed, and quickly pull his sleeve over the scars and cuts.

"It's nothing! I swear!" He mutters, looking at the floor.

You just pause, thinking about everything you heard, said, and saw.

"Oncie..."You only manage to stutter out those words.

"Can I... uhm... see them...?" You mutter, still shocked on how much scars and cut there were just on that little space of his wrist.

He's hesitant, but nods.

He rolls up his sleeve, long, deep scars and cuts are close together from wrist to elbow. All you do is just look at them and start to cry, rarely blinking and moving.

After a few minutes, you finally manage to sputter the words:

"Oncie... when we're These ones... made?" You ask, while pointing at the freshest ones.

"Yesterday..." He covers up the cuts and scars while saying that.

"Oncie.... We can fix this... I can help..." you sputter.

"I'll get bandages..." you says as you get up, to look for them.

You run to the bathroom, frantically searching the drawers and cupboards for some bandages.

After you find some, with some medical tape, you run downstairs, to see Oncie cutting himself with a blade.

"Oncie! No-!" You yelp out, dropping everything and running to grab the knife.

"Let, me, have it!-" Oncie yells out, trying to grab it back. You successfully grab the knife and throw it aside.Blood was on the floor, little droplets. You see his blood seeping through the sleeve, showing where he cut. Maybe six or seven were made, and it didn't take long for the blood to stain and present itself through the sleeve.

You throw the knife he was using across the room, and you hear it's silver blade make noises as it gets thrown somewhere out of his reach.

"I-I'm sorry.. I-" he stuttered, in a panicked voice.

"I-I don't know what came over me, oh my... im so sorry!" He breaks down again.

"Shhhh... it's okay..." you wrap him in a hug, as he sobs onto your shoulder, making it wet.

"Y-your aren't mad at me?" He asks in a somewhat pleading tone, in disbelief.

"No? Why would I be?" You are still hugging him, making him feel a glimmer of respite that he probably hasn't felt in such a long time.

"Well.. uhm.... My mom used to get mad at me... and say she didn't do anything to me..." he whispered this under his breath, so much so you almost couldn't make out what he said.

"You didn't deserve that Oncie..." Your voice trailed off..

"No one does."