Archive of Our Own ^beta

he never meant to make it a habit, he swears.

it had started with him dragging his pen against his forearm once after a prefect meeting.

it’d been bad. the prefects weren’t doing their job as properly as the teachers had wanted, and, as expected, all the blame had fallen onto him.

he’d rather have it that way though.

would rather everyone be mad at him than his friends who were only trying their best.

still seated on his chair in the meeting room, he’d zoned out. he’d gotten so stuck in his own head with this feeling of mortification slowly seeping its way through his body that he hadn’t even noticed himself digging his pen into his arm until it stung.

and it felt good. no matter how much he’d hate to admit it, he knew he liked it.

it stung, and it was the only thing he found that could bring him back into the body he’d seem to distance himself from sometimes; from the stupor of thoughts he’d get stuck in.

it was painful but he needed this. it was pain he could control.

when his arm would sometimes end up with lines of blue and black across it and red ridges rising in their place after getting so impatient with himself he’d try to burrow a hole through his forearm, he’d take a moment to look.

to remember it was real.

he just… he needed to have a reminder that it was there. that the thoughts that haunted him day and night weren’t just stuck in his head to be called imaginary.

this was real.

he knew this was real.

eventually, when he’d discovered his razor could do a lot more than just knick his face, black ink was replaced by red blood flowing over his arm’s length and into the sink, until he didn’t know when to stop.

they’d be shallow a lot of the time. he didn’t care how deep; he just needed to see them. so long as they hurt.

though, he’d lose himself sometimes.

by the end of sessions that’d follow days that felt like they’d never end and would forever etch unease into the back of his mind, he’d be seeing red in every corner of his vision— would sometimes fall asleep to it and wake up in a mess of stains that’d make his heart ache dully with shame yet relief because thank fuck it wasn’t all in my mind— until he took to cleaning it up, making himself useful wrapping his cuts only to feel the pain pulsate through him every day moving forward.

when he slashed deep enough into an artery one day and blood started gushing uncontrollably, he swears he only meant for it to be a one-time thing.

he swears it over and over again as he feels himself blacking out.

and then, he wakes up. and acts like nothing happened.

when ayan asked him what he was doing, he’d brushed it off.

(“I called a few times but you never picked up; you usually do.”)

(“I think this paper’s just draining me more than I’d expected.”)

he should be ashamed.

eventually, the feeling catches up to him so fast that it’s the only sensation he can manage besides the constant baseline disappointment in himself.

when he starts tensing every time ayan gets his hands on him while they kiss, or he makes motion to take akk’s shirt off, he feels ashamed.

he feels broken and unfixable and like a horrible partner for not allowing ayan this one thing. he couldn’t, and sweet ayan, kind ayan, loving ayan would always say “okay” understandingly while pulling back.

akk thinks he knows something’s up. ayan’s eyes trail over his face in moments akk doesn’t notice but at times when he does; when they’re studying in the library or when they’re laying on the couch watching one drama or another on his laptop, laughing softly together.

they’d trail over his figure and he’d feel skinned to the bone— peeled past layers of skin and muscle— with how unable he was to hide anything from ayan, even unconsciously.

this one thing alone was eating him alive.

he’d think in those moments of how deep his hatred for himself ran. how much he hated the fact that he had to hide this from ayan.

how much he hated to think of what would happen if his boyfriend ever found out.

it happens.

as he walked out of the bathroom one day, pulling on his pants with newly-dressed wounds and gauze wrapping the entire length of his upper arms, he finds ayan— standing at the frame of the entry doorway— giving him an appreciative look-over.

and akk tries to act like he wasn’t caught red-handed (maybe literally).

turning away as fast as he could, he pulled his sweater on hastily, intent on pretending like nothing just happened. tries to act like he was just embarrassed being caught shirtless— nothing more.

like his most shameful secret wasn’t just revealed to the world. to his world.

ayan— to his credit— didn’t seem to be fazed. something dark flashed in his eyes, but before akk could dig deeper into it, he pushed past the door into the room and started up conversation as if nothing had happened.

nothing had happened.

right.

akk could stick with that. even if his body felt like it was in flight mode the entire time, preparing himself over and over again every breathing minute for some impending doom that never seemed to hit.

he could fake it ‘til he made it.

when they’d ended up on the prefect’s bed later that night, he’d braced himself for having to reject ayan’s advancements again.

prepared his heart to feel so hot with shame all over again that it’d ring through him for hours.

though, he liked kissing. it made him feel useful and like not so much of a failure doing it with ayan. it was the only sort of intimacy he could offer him, and it made him feel as human as he could get.

lost in thought— his body too tired from all the energy it’d pent up and inevitably not ended up using trying to prepare for disaster— he hadn’t noticed immediately when his shirt was being pulled up. only when ayan was tugging on him to raise his arms did it register, his limbs jerking painfully as fear lit up every fried nerve in him, that the secret that had been held so tightly in his arms for months— so tight it'd felt like it was bruising him in a way he felt his eyes could never unsee and his skin never unfeel— was about to be exposed.

he was prepared to push him off and give some lame excuse before ayan spoke up.

“please. let me see?” he asked, and akk knew he didn’t mean just his naked torso. he knew he didn’t mean it that simply, and because of that he couldn’t manage a response.

he’d seen right through him.

fuck.

he was going to break up with him. sure, he’d had breakdowns before and him and ayan had gone through their fair share of shit, but this was going to be too much for him; this was gonna be the last straw because who the fuck could do such a thing to themselves akk you absolute idiot-

“hey, hey, hey. it’s okay. i’m here. i'm not leaving you.”

he felt his chest tighten with even more shame. it was getting harder to breathe.

“breathe with me okay? i’m not going anywhere, i just need you to breathe. can’t have you passing out on me can i?”

akk’s face contorted uncomfortably, but he tried taking in steady inhales, his body instinctively matching his breathing pattern to that of ayan’s as he grounded himself to the feeling of his lover’s hands that were planted firmly on his hips.

“i can’t,” he was finally able to get out, and he got the sense that ayan knew he wasn’t talking about his labored inhales.

“how come?”

and if he was able to mutter out a “you’ll be mad” instead of a “you’ll hate me,” he didn’t know. his voice felt like background noise to his own ears.

“i swear i won’t akk. it’s okay, i get it. it got bad for me too.” and his eyes turned cloudy. “i want to help. let me help?”

akk couldn’t say no for long. sucking in a breath and feeling it get stuck in his throat, he tried to say something without sounding like he was choking on his own words.

he hated crying.

fuck.

“y-yeah. okay,” he got out— his voice as fragile as glass— and started pushing his sweater off of his own free will, shivering when the night air hit his skin for so many fucking reasons he couldn’t count.

he’s looking. he’s looking. he’s looking. he thinks i’m mental. he hates me now. he’s going to break up with me i can't do this-

“oh baby,” was the only sound he heard as he saw ayan’s glistening eyes track up and down his arm’s length.

“can i check?” he asked, hands on the bandages that’d been white hours ago but had turned an ugly shade of brown in places.

trying to look away from the mess of cuts he’d made of himself, akk nodded “okay” with tears threatening their way out of his eyes.

as bandages were pulled away, and soft gasps burned into his wounds, he heard shuffling and opening of bags, felt ointment on his skin and the wrapping of new gauze around his biceps as soft whispers of “this’ll sting a bit,” “i’m wrapping them now okay?” and “here, all done” rang in his ears.

akk couldn’t look at ayan again. he’d be a horrible person to do so and expect the shorter to still love him.

he didn’t sign up for this. he hadn’t signed up for whatever akk had made of himself.

“akk. akk,” his boyfriend called, putting his hand under akk’s chin to tilt his face towards ayan’s.

his eyes were red with unshed tears and his throat ached with the weight of sobs not sounded; he could barely get his words out without feeling like he was dying doing so.

“it’s okay, you can leave. i understand. this isn’t… isn’t something normal. i get that.”

the look that graced ayan’s face was nothing short of shattered.

“oh akk, it’s okay. i swear to you it’s okay. i love you and i’m not leaving.”

and, that was all it really took.

as akk’s face started to crumple, ayan’s words winding him undone, the shorter’s features softened, pulling the other boy’s face into his shoulder. hot breath fanned his neck as the tears came out unbridled. they ran hot and wet and uncontrolled, and ayan couldn’t stop himself as a few made their way down his own face.

their stifled gasps sounded horridly painful in the quiet of the night.

i’m sorry.

i’m so sorry.

i never meant for it to get this bad.

you don’t deserve this.

it all came out as a series of blubber, akk’s brain seeming to generate thoughts at a speed that was translated into how he spoke, hasty and excessive as if still he couldn’t speak fast enough.

couldn’t apologize enough.

pulling him back through the hand on his neck, ayan bent his face to where akk’s was still hanging.

looking him in the eyes, he reached for the tears still streaming, his thumbs wiping insistently as whispers of “it’s okay” rang through his body, his voice breaking.

“akk, akk. please look at me. please.” and, like a child insistent on “no,” akk shook his head as so.

“please. baby, i need to see you,” ayan begged, his heart being churned into nothingness in his chest.

how painful it must’ve been keeping all this in.

how ayan hated that akk thought he wouldn’t love him after this.

how he hated that akk had to hurt himself.

how he hated to think what that was an alternative for.

gently prodding his face up, ayan was finally able to look at akk and notice the way his lip had been bitten to bleeding and how the prefect’s eyes didn’t know where to land. reaching up to his lips, akk croaked out another “i’m sorry” as his thumbs brushed painfully over the bleeding wound.

“i’m okay. we’re okay. yeah?” ayan asked, the true sense of the statement lost on him as he tried to get akk to just speak.

“i don’t feel okay. i feel like i…” and only with ayan’s eyes egging him on— his face so understanding in ways akk wished to know how he was able to— did he continue ”… disappointed you. i feel too much.”

and if ayan could start crying he would. he’d cry and sob and wail to no end because he loved the boy in front of him so much he couldn’t imagine anything ever turning him away.

he didn’t think anything ever could.

“akk, you did not disappoint me. i can swear it to you to the moon and a million times back. i understand,” he spoke, stern yet reassuring, his tone dipping in a way that indicated he really did understand.

thinking back to the other's medication, akk realized he might.

and then felt horrible all over again for dumping this on him.

“they’re ugly, aren't they?” he muttered, head swiveling to look at his still-bare arms.

god, they were and he knew it because he made sure they were every time. made sure they remained ugly and scarred enough to burn into the back of his mind as much as into his skin so he never forgot.

he felt his entire self light up with the urge to hurt hurt hurt hurt and he was getting antsy and impatient and desperate and—

“no, they’re not,” ayan replied, his tone defiant. “they look like they hurt,” he followed up in a softer tone.

“do they?”

seeing the hesitation in akk as his lips quivered with an answer, ayan felt the need to say “i won’t be mad, i swear. you can tell me.”

and, eyes closing briefly, akk uttered a faint “yeah they do. i make sure,” hot shame that was on the verge of burning through him quelled briefly by ayan’s fingers fanning his face.

softly. understandingly.

maybe akk was making things up.

ayan’s hand shifted and hovered briefly over akk’s, his eyes asking the question before he did and akk’s own responding to it before he could muster up the energy to speak his answer.

frail fingers trailing up and down his skin, he felt guilty as a sigh was ripped out of him.

“most of them are healed. i can’t seem to… to keep a lot of them that way.”

hearing a soft hum, his own eyes couldn’t help looking over the mosaic of scars he’d spent months crafting.

he never meant for it to get this far.

seeming to have spoken it aloud, ayan looked at him with sad lines edged into his downturned smile.

arms trailing up and over bandages, ayan’s palms rested once again soft against akk’s face.

and akk wanted. he longed to feel okay. to feel normal— even if it was only for a moment.

“kiss me. please. i don’t want to feel like myself,” the taller begged painfully, and ayan felt it hurt in his chest as he leaned in, trying to pour everything into the way their lips moved and the way the heat of akk’s mouth felt.

tried to leave imprints of himself branded into akk as his hands moved up his sides.

trailing his kisses downward, he got a pained grunt in response.

“you don’t have to,” akk whispered breathlessly, knowing where this was going.

he didn’t deserve it.

“i don’t deserve it.”

it was feeble and every sense of selfishness was evident in the way his voice came out; in the way he could sense his desperateness even when he was saying no.

he wanted this. needed it. he just couldn’t bring himself to ask for it because of how pathetic it was for him.

how could he ask ayan to acknowledge every living bit of him that was broken and tattered? the edges of him that had long been shattered but he had never figured out how to put them back together so he’d simply looked the other way?

he felt selfish. his breath coming out hot as he tried not to cry contradicted everything he was trying not to do. not to feel.

but ayan didn’t stop, and he felt his chest hiccup with gasps that seemed to rip through his very skin as the other boy continued downwards across his arm’s expanse of skin.

“let me show you they’re not ugly.”

“let me show you i’m not leaving you.”

“let me show you i love you.”

“please.”

akk’s couldn’t do this.

as he shook his head okay over and over again— not being able to turn away when offered the very thing he’d been wanting for so long— his heart hurt so so so much and he didn’t know if crying would be enough to feel normal again and all this was too much and ayan loved him even when he shouldn't and he couldn’t-

and as ayan’s hands that had been sitting idly in the space between them reached to rest on ayan’s heart while the other found its way under his arms— pressing into the back of each as his lips trailed molten touches over wounds that felt raw and open no matter how scarred they looked— akk felt lost.

so, so, so lost in the sensations that he was drowning in and in the feelings he couldn’t shake. of disappointment, of being loved, of shame, of pleasure, of contentment; he didn’t know anymore.

“oh, baby you’re perfect. you’re okay. you’re mine and you always will be,” ayan kept reiterating, and akk’s heart swelled with love every time even if he felt like it shouldn’t.

“we’ll get through this together, i promise you.”

akk’s eyes were closed, and his breath hitched as ayan started back up his arm to make it towards the other. his chest felt like it was being punched every time he breathed and he couldn’t seem to bring it back to normal even when ayan’s eyes met his own— his breathing seeming as ragged with tears as akk’s did.

he stopped to ponder akk’s face briefly.

“okay?”

akk had half a mind to lie.

ayan seemed to see right through that though. he couldn’t anymore.

“it hurts a lot. i don’t deserve this. thank you,” he got out, eyes glittering once again.

as soon as akk thought he felt the need to expand on what hurt, he saw ayan’s face shift.

“why don’t you deserve this? i think you do.”

“you shouldn’t though. this isn’t… you didn’t sign up for this.”

“akk. baby. i had you falling apart in my arms and the only thing i could think of was what i’d give up to make you not feel like that. to make you feel like you deserved to live.

“i signed up for all of this. i signed up to love you. and that’s everything to me.”

good fuck that didn’t help his breathing. noticing that, ayan placed the taller’s palm over his own that still lay on the prefect’s chest.

“do you want me to stop?”

akk shook his head no.

“are you gonna think i’m pitying you if i continue?”

and, with a frightening awareness of his own thoughts, akk once again shook his head no.

“let me?”

and it felt easier saying yes this time.

as ayan’s kisses trailed down his arm, his breath lagged and paused and his body felt like it was being shed and put together anew.

when soft hums reverberated against his forearm’s soft skin, he heard it.

“talk to me akk, tell me what’s going on up there.”

ayan wanted him to talk.

shit.

he was scared of what’d come out— his throat turning dry as he tried to but eventually failed in filtering all the thoughts that came rushing through his mind— but he spoke nonetheless.

his head was a little too light and fuzzy for him to think better.

and, by this point, he thought he’d die choking on everything he hadn’t been able to ever say aloud.

might as well.

so, he spoke and tried to convince himself of everything ayan wanted him to believe.

i deserve this.

i deserve to want this.

i deserve to be loved.

i don’t deserve to feel broken.

i deserve to feel alive.

as his thoughts ran, the things he deserved turned into the things he wanted.

i want to feel okay.

i want to feel normal again.

i want to cry.

i want to stop thinking so much.

i want to shut it off.

i want to kiss you.

i want to stay with you.

i want you. please.

ayan’s lips finally making their way back into the crevice between his neck and shoulder, he murmured reassurances as his kisses made a trail up to akk’s ear before pulling away to look the taller in the face.

reaching down his hands to place them on akk’s waist— the crevice where his torso met his hips and he’d wished a million times over to be able to kiss one day— ayan looked him in the eyes.

“i love you. i’m not leaving you. i need you to tell me you believe me akk.”

the taller’s mind starting up storms, he knew to ignore them. they’d done this before.

this— getting his thoughts to shut up when they’d work overdrive into spiraling down a hole akk didn’t know he could drag himself out of— was something they’d worked on and akk had been getting okay at doing so.

“i love you too. i know you’re not leaving. i believe you,” he parroted, seeing something ease in ayan’s posture.

“you’re not broken baby, okay? akk— you really aren’t please don’t shake your head no.”

“i feel like this all the time,” he replied, his voice feeling weak.

“i know, i know,” ayan called softly, his eyes sad. “we’ll get through this. i’ll say it as many times as you need me to. i believe in us more than i do anything else, okay?”

akk looked at the other boy. really looked and tried to see any hint of disbelief.

it would’ve made it a lot easier to lie.

“i don’t feel like i deserve to love you as much as i do right now. you’re too good to me,” he got out, his voice the most even-leveled it’d been that day.

“want me to let you in on a secret?” ayan asked.

akk shook his head okay.

“it feels like every day i have you to myself, you’ll realize one day i’m too... tainted. but, every time i think that, i find my eyes in yours which look at me like i’m everything and i believe it a little less. that you want me as much as i want you.

“don’t think your love selfish. it’s just as much mine as it is yours and i don’t want it to disappear. you deserve to love me and i want you to.”

as their eyes danced in each other’s— both equally as tired and red and puffy— akk really did feel it. even if only for a second. even if he’d wake up tomorrow and the void that ran rampant in his head was back in full force. even if he’d need ayan to repeat it a million times.

his head shaking okay and his lips mouthing “i love you,” ayan did smile then— even if brief— and pulled his boyfriend to him into a hug, his fingers playing with the hairs at the back of his neck as akk’s hands rested loosely on the low of the shorter’s back.

“i don’t… i don’t want to continue like this,” akk heard himself whisper.

“i know,” he heard exhaled by the other boy painfully. “i know akk.”

the prefect could picture ayan’s face with his tearful eyes, and felt the need to reach up into his boyfriend’s hair, dragging his nails lightly across his scalp.

he felt so tired. so so so tired and his heart felt limp in his chest like the muscle had completely wrung itself out. like it was a stranger in its own dug-out hole that was meant to belong to it alone but had now been overridden by feelings that didn’t belong there.

yet, he needed to explain himself.

“it feels like i’m just stuck. stuck up there all the time. in my mind. and i’ve been trying to leave… for so long.

“and i just hate being like this with you,” he voiced, and he tried to keep the quiver out of his tone.

“you know that doesn’t bother me.”

“i know. but i just… i can’t stand myself like this all the time. i want to remember myself with you as more than just trying really hard every day not to mess up a perfect moment.”

“i’m sorry,” akk felt murmured at his skin as ayan’s lips downturned into his still-bare shoulder and pressed soft pecks there.

“it’s okay. i just… i don’t know how much longer i can do this for. i’m sorta—“and his voice turned wet “— glad it got to the point where you saw.”

he felt ayan plant his palms on his shoulder, pushing them both back to be at face level with each other.

it hurt looking into ayan’s eyes that were searching akk’s. his heart felt all types of wrong and his brain was screaming to let this go.

you can do this on your own.

well, he thought, fuck you. maybe…

maybe i don’t want to anymore.

“yeah?” ayan asked, his hands roaming over his lover’s face; tracing into the dips of his smile he’d spent hours looking at, the crevices of his eyes that crinkled every time he laughed, and the smile that seemed so rare these days yet could send ayan’s mood skyrocketing should it be directed his way.

“yeah,” the other boy responded idly, and the statement seemed to reverberate throughout the room.

“okay, we can do this. we’ll figure something out. you’re not on your own in this. can you tell me that back?”

we.

ayan was always thinking of himself as part of this.

this was all them, not just him.

“we can do this. we’ll figure it out. i’m not alone, and i really, really believe you right now,” he spoke into the open air, how tired he was catching up to him. “i sort of hate it.”

but he smiled. it was a lazy smile— one indicative of too long a night but not in a fun way— but he did and ayan did so back at him and he felt okay.

as ayan leaned in to kiss akk’s cheek, he didn’t feel like a liar. like a cheap excuse for a boyfriend.

and maybe— he could imagine— he’d stop feeling a lot of things soon enough, the thoughts that ransacked his mind and poisoned his life dissipating in the space between them where soft whispers and long glances were the only things that passed.

akk felt… well, he felt like the blade in the bathroom could wait a little longer than usual.