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He could feel the blood pumping through his arms as he tried to will his thoughts to think of anything but what he wanted to do most. He ran his fingers over past scars, some white, some pink and purple. Some of them etched deeper in his skin and some raised above.
Most of the time he cursed himself for letting him ruin his wrists and arms like this but other days, like today he thought they looked pretty. A nice contrast from his usually pale and freckled skin.
He was sitting up in his bed looking at the nightstand next to it thinking about the blades sitting right there, he could easily grab one and fill the craving but the more he thought about it the more he thought about Mickey. What he would think or say. He’d probably just be disappointed that he fucked up again. The last time Mickey had seen them he was use to it, it still hurt just as bad every time though. He sighed before going to the bathroom to get supplies to clean Ian up. After cleaning the dried blood he softly kissed across his arms before lying next to him and Ian just tucked himself under Mickey’s chin and whispered about how sorry he was. Mickey just whispered back that it was okay and yes, he still loved him.
Thinking about that made him sadly smile because of what he was about to do anyway. He kept going until he couldn’t see his skin anymore, just blood running down past his elbow and onto his shirt.
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A week later he was standing in the Milkovich house in the bathroom staring at his reflection having the same cravings again. He missed the way it looked when the blood flowed down like a waterfall or how good it stung. His thoughts got interrupted by banging on the door.
“Yo you okay in there?” it was Mickey, of course it was. He had to make a decision, fast. He could either say that he’s fine just taking a shit and fill the craving again or open the door and give Mickey and mostly himself a break from seeing his body ruined again. He didn’t want to but he chose the latter for their sakes. He opened the door and immediately kissed him.
“Hi.” he said when he pulled away
“Hi to you too, you were in there for a long time man i didn’t even hear the toilet flush or anything. Are you okay?”
Ian sighed and sat on Mickey’s bed with his back against the wall.
“I don’t know Mick.” Mickey immediately sat next to him shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh.
“You don’t know?”
Ian stayed silent for a minute not knowing how to put it into words.
“I just- i keep wanting to cut again and every time i feel like Monica.” he said softly staring at his arms.
“You’re nothing like her Ian, you two having the same illness means jack shit okay?”
“I know i know, but it doesn’t make me feel any less like her. I’m fucking doomed.”
Mickey intertwined their hands before speaking again.
“You’re not doomed, you’re just… in a bad place right now and that’s fine it’s gonna happen. I’ll be right here with you and we’re gonna go see the shrink, get you on meds, and talk to me whenever you feel like doing that again, that’s a whole lot more than Monica ever did.”
Ian squeezed his hand and scooted forward a bit to put his head on Mickey’s shoulder.
“I love you, y’know that?”
“Yeah no shit, i love you too. But seriously Ian when you feel like you’re gonna hurt yourself or something talk to me. Doesn’t matter what the fuck i’m doing i just wanna make sure you’re okay.”
“I will Mick, i promise.”
He wasn’t sure if he’d keep his promise but he knew he wasn’t completely lying to him. He really did wanna try to get better so Mickey wouldn’t have to drop everything just to talk to him when he feels low or when he hasn’t slept for days and can’t sit the fuck still.
The next times when Ian felt like self harming he stopped immediately looking at his nightstand or the bathroom in favor of immediately looking at his boyfriend instead.