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it wasn't anything new to you. your thighs letting out crimson liquid, stinging open skin, leaving you disassociating. you've grown so used to it now that you practically didn't feel anything, the pain being oddly pacifying. making you feel weird. it's like something cut a hole open in your brain and fucked it with a razor. but god, it felt good.
snapping out of your trance, you looked down at your legs and stumbled out of your bed to desinfect. yeah, you did this, but you're not going to end up at the clinic because of a self-induced infection from zero hygene. even thinking about some kind of pus leaking out of you made your gag instinct kick in. it's not like the doctors would like it, either. this is paradise, arizona. think about it. they'd probably tell you to do it horizontally next time.
once you got to the bathroom, you turned the tap on and grabbed a towel, wetting it before pressing it up against your wounds. ow. well, could get worse if you didn't. you sat there for a bit, holding on, staring at the ceiling. it was fucking hot outside in paradise this time of year, even at night, definitely not making you feel any better. there was a tiny window high up on the bathroom wall, you went to open it; gunshots in the distance - you closed it again.
after it stopped bleeding, you washed the blood out of the towel and threw it on the floor somewhere. you grabbed the little first-aid kit bag you had, scouring through all the stuff there - you were out of band-aids. well, fuck. you're not going outside right now.
you slowly got up from the bathroom floor and headed back for the bedroom, almost tripping over that towel you dropped earlier. turning the light off and closing the door behind you, you didn't really know what to do. you were bored out of your mind the whole evening, nothing interesting coming up, no deadlines, forced to be alone with your morbid thoughts. you stopped in your tracks and looked at the phone you left on the couch. an idea shot through your head and you went up to it, picking up the small nokia and immediately dialing your boyfriend.
---
you and dude have been dating for a few weeks by now. he knew everything about you, all your problems, all your habits, anything you told him - he memorised it. you both found comfort in each other, his schizoid delusions making him feel and even act insane at times, paired with your suicidality. you both wanted each other to get better, you wished you could do way more for him. not only by helping him, but also by helping yourself. you knew he loved you with his whole heart, he was devoted, obsessed. you loved him just as much, but you couldn't love yourself.
---
the first time you picked his phone number from the short list appearing on the small display, he didn't pick up. he went to bed early that evening, but you knew he always picked up as soon as he could whenever his angel - that's what he called you most of the time - would call him. the second time, he picked up after a few seconds, making your heart palpitate. you took a deep breath and wanted to speak up, but he began the conversation before you could let any words out.
"did anything happen, angel? are you safe?" you heard in a tired, groggy voice. dude was always concerned about your safety, knowing how dangerous paradise can get, especially during nighttime. considering you were pretty scared the first time you saw the guns that he hung up on his wall, he didn't want to imagine you having one pressed up against your forehead by some lunatic.
"i'm safe, i'm at home, i just... really need you here right now."
- "i'm getting over there, stay inside. you need anything?"
- "...do you have any band-aids at home?"
when he heard that, the call went silent for a few seconds. you heard a shaky sigh from him followed by what sounded like rummaging through a drawer, before shutting it.
"yes, i do. anything else?"
- "no, that's enough. please come over."
- "yes, okay- i'll see you. i love you, remember that."
- "i know, i love you."
he hang up after that and you sat on the couch, staring ahead as you listened to the clock ticking. it was an eight minute walk from his house to yours, though it probably took him a bit less, he always walked pretty fast. you pointed it out one time, to which he only replied that you never know if you're being chased over here.
unsurprisingly, you heard the door unlock only five minutes after your call ended. you gave him the spare keys to your house, in case you weren't responding to anything. he did the same, the keys to his own house sitting next to yours on top of the coffee table. you never know.
when you heard dude come in, you stood up and quickly made way to the front door. he looked at you with what could only be described as concern before you let your body basically go limp, making him catch you by your shoulders and immediately pull you in a warm embrace. you practically melted into him. he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his arms rubbing up and down your back while he pressed a soft kiss to the exposed skin below your jaw. you couldn't help but cry.
when he noticed this, heard your soft sobbing into his chest, felt your body trembling - he pressed you tighter against him. as your legs rubbed together, your own flinched, still sensitive. he noticed this and backed away a bit, shaking his head.
"no, no, my angel, what happened? oh, god, no..."
dude pulled you back in, making sure not to press up his legs against yours, giving kisses to the top of your head. he held you for a few more minutes as you weeped. you completely let yourself go in his arms. he was here, he was your safe haven. you were gonna be okay. you clinged onto his leather trench coat, putting your arms around his waist - feeling a machine gun on his back. you looked up at him, still letting yourself be held.
"you brought it with you?" you choked out, voice dead from the crying.
- "it's too dangerous at night, sweetest. you know that." after that, you nodded, resting your head on his chest again. dude was tall, another reason for you to feel safe if you went out with him. paradise is full of crazy people, maniacs. he can save you. he brought one arm up to your head, caressing your scalp, while the other stayed wrapped tightly around your waist.
"i also brought the band-aids," he ran his fingers through your hair, "do you want me to put them on you?"
- "yeah..." you hesitated at first but slowly let him go, dude's hands lingering on your arms before he did the same.
you motioned for him to come with you to the bathroom, and he complied. he quickly took the gun off of his back and threw it down on your couch, following you, reaching into his coat to get the box of band-aids ready. when you entered the bathroom, he closed the door behind you and looked at you with a frown. he reached out and held your chin by his thumb and index finger, tilting it upwards so you looked at him, before leaning down and kissing your forehead.
"go sit down, i'll get stuff ready. you have any scissors?" he whispered to you.
- "in the cabinet under the sink." you went and put the toilet seat down, sitting down on it quickly after. you leaned back, as uncomfortable as it was, and watched as he pulled the band-aid roll out of the pack. he cut some pieces off and turned to you, fidgeting with the scissors. he bit his lip and turned back to grab a few of what he just cut, before walking up to you and kneeling in front of you, putting the band-aids on the floor next to him.
"can i see, angel?" he put his hand on one of your knees, just below where your shorts were. you nodded and rolled them up, revealing your upper thigh covered with fresh wounds, some of them bigger than the other; though thankfully not too big to bandage up. he nearly recoiled at the sight, before ever so gently ghosting his fingers over the cuts. if you didn't succeed at holding back so much, you certainly would've started crying again, most definitely when he leaned in and kissed one of them.
"did you make sure to desinfect it already, at least?" dude reached for the band-aids on the floor, peeling the protection layer off one of them and holding it out just above your thigh, looking up at you for confirmation.
- "yeah, yeah." you put your hand out and put some strands of his hair behind his ear.
- "good job." he softly smiled at you before putting his focus back on treating your injuries.
he covered them one by one, sealing some of them with small kisses that made your cheeks turn more red than the blood you had seen tonight. god, he cared about you. he'd give you anything, everything, if you just asked. he'd kill everyone in paradise including himself, if you just asked.
when he was done, he stood up and threw the peeled-off parts of the band-aids away in the small trash can. he helped you get up from the toilet seat and you got out of the bathroom, holding his hand. once in the living room again, you gently tugged on his hand and turned in the direction of your bedroom, which he immediately understood as a "let's lay down in bed."
you turned the bedside lamp on in your room, the razor you left on your bed becoming visible. he squeezed your hand, looking down at you, before going up to the bed and grabbing the razor. he put it in his trench coat pocket.
"do you have any more?"
- "dude, you know i'll always get more..."
- "well, you won't have any for some time, at least. at least for now, sweetheart. where do you have them?"
you pointed to one of your bedside tables, a few of the tools hidden behind a lamp. dude carefully grabbed them, putting the rest away in his coat too. he took it off and threw it on your bed, kicking his shoes off and putting his sunglasses away right after. at that, you went up to the bed and layed down - he followed soon after, flipping the switch off the lamp so the room was filled with darkness again. before his eyes could adjust to the lack of light, he felt at your body with his calloused hands, trying to figure out where you were. he gently put one of his hands on your waist, the other grabbing a hand of your own. you couldn't see him, but you felt his eyes stare at you.
you layed like that for a few minutes, basking in his company, in the feeling of actual love. after a while, your eyes adjusted and you could see each other properly. he moved his hand up from your waist to your cheek, running his thumb over while he held it gently. he looked at you in awe, as if you were an actual angel, his own angel. you were his, and you are safe as long as you are.
"you're so beautiful." he whispered, continuing his hold on your face. you could only chuckle, embarrassed.
- "no i'm not. you know i'm not... i'm-"
- "i think you're the most beautiful thing i've ever seen. especially in paradise. fucked up paradise..." dude scooted a bit closer, "everyone's a psycho except for you."
- "i enjoy my own pain, don't you think that's psycho enough?"
he just sighed and grabbed both of your hands.
"it's not something you're able to control. i wish i could do more, way, way more..." he put a hand on your thigh and softly rubbed it, careful enough to not cause you any more pain than what you were already feeling, "i wish i could put all of your pain away and throw it into my brain."
- "you're already hurting enough, dude... the voices, violence, whatever." you caressed his cheek with the back of your index finger.
- "i know. but if you were happy with yourself, i would be happy. even with all the fucked up thoughts inside of me, i'd be happy."
you stared at him in shock.
"i love you."
he smiled at you and you couldn't help but smile back. he put his hand back on your cheek, slowly bringing it up to tangle it in your hair, pressing your face closer to his. he leaned in with his chapped lips parted, and you almost immediately did the same, pressing your lips against his. it was soft at first, before you both pulled away to breathe for a short moment and leaned back in, kissing more passionately. it was slow, but it felt so good - it said so much that words wouldn't express. well, a few words would.
"i love you, angel. forever." he softly whispered against your lips, his breath hitting your face.
- "you promise?"
- "i promise. i'd never forgive myself if i didn't."
you smiled and hugged him, your face against his chest again as you layed a bit lower. he took you in his arms and kissed the top of your head, quietly repeating sweet nothings to you until you eventally fell asleep.
it felt nice. you usually hated falling asleep since it meant you had to live another day, but with him - when he came over for the night, or you went over to his house - you were glad you would. you could spend an eternity in his arms. when he held you, it felt like an eternity. he loved you. and you were happy you could love him for another day. maybe when you'd wake up, still in his embrace, you'd find joy.