inspired by the same fic i was talking abt last chapter :)

warning; drinking, vomitting, self harm, 

in the dimly lit bathroom, the moonlight shines through partly closed blinds, casting long shadows. you sit under the cold shower, fully dressed, tears mixing with the water. the air smells of scotch, vomit, and blood. curled up, with knees to your chest and head on your arms, you find comfort in this poignant moment.

from a distance, you hear the soft and hesitant voice of onceler. his footsteps echo through the space, gradually growing louder and more urgent as he nears. amidst the constant flow of water, he calls out your name, his words barely audible, but filled with concern and urgency.

onceler crouches down beside you, his face marked by a blend of worry and apprehension. his gaze moves swiftly over the cuts on your body, a mixture of distress and relief crossing his expression. with great care, he guides your arms back onto your knees, his touch gentle and guarded, as if afraid to cause any further harm.

"you're bleeding, y/n," he says, his voice tinged with a forced laugh, a feeble attempt to conceal his deep concern.

resting your head on your arms once more, you maintain a silent and unresponsive demeanor as you observe him. his gaze flickers from your face to the bottle, then to the knife, and finally to your arms. he tightly clasps his hands together, wrestling with the struggle to articulate his thoughts.

"please," he finally whispers, his voice barely audible over the sound of the water. "please, what... what can I do?"

you remain silent, offering no response.

his breath catches, and his voice trembles as he responds, "i'll do whatever i can to help."

a surge of emotion overwhelms you, tears blending with the water cascading down your face, though you're unsure if he can perceive them. he appears on the brink of reaching out to hug you, his hands hovering in the air, but there's something in your gaze that restrains him. he slowly lowers his arms, preparing to leave. as he does so, he adjusts his sunglasses, shifting them up onto his head.

"wait... just... wait here."

as onceler gets up and prepares to leave, a fleeting pang of hurt pierces through your numbed state, jolting you momentarily. however, it quickly fades into insignificance. with a deepening sense of detachment, you retreat further into the recesses of your own being, as if seeking comfort in the darkness that surrounds you. the waves of nausea rise once again, and the room spins in disorienting patterns, yet these sensations lose their significance in the grand scheme of your inner turmoil.

the water stops, and as you lift your gaze, onceler reappears, crouching in front of you with a towel in one hand and a roll of bandages in the other. his voice carries a mix of concern and uncertainty as he addresses you, "hey there. do you think you can get up and let me put this towel on you...? is that what you want...? would it help...?"

you offer a faint smile, your silence unbroken, and with limbs trembling, you muster the strength to stand. your body feels feeble and unstable, as if disconnected from reality. you sway, battling to maintain your balance, and then a sudden bout of nausea overtakes you, causing you to retch, expelling vomit into the drain. a gloved hand finds its way to your back, offering support, while another tenderly brushes your hair away from your face. you cough and heave, but nothing more comes out.

onceler's voice reaches you with genuine concern. "you've been through a lot, y/n," he says softly. "if you can, try taking a deep breath."

you listen to his advice and follow it, taking a deep breath. as the air fills your lungs, you find a temporary respite from the overwhelming nausea that grips you.

his gloved hand provides a cooling touch against your forehead, while his other hand continues to gently rub soothing circles on your back. another wave of shame washes over you.

"the shower's done its part," he says softly. "can we get you clean?"

you nod in agreement, and onceler promptly turns the water back on. with determination, you begin to rub at the vomit on your hands, desperately trying to cleanse away the physical traces of your anguish. onceler steps in, gently taking your hands in his, and together, you both cleanse them beneath the soothing flow of water.

as the water comes to a stop, onceler passes you the towel, his gaze brimming with compassion. "alright. do you think we can wrap this around you? take a moment to rest before i patch you up, and then we can make our way back to our room."

you accept the towel, your hands trembling slightly as you manage to drape it around yourself, securing it with a loose tuck. onceler tenderly takes hold of your hands, gently drying them with care. he then proceeds to wrap the bandages around your arms, his movements deliberate and focused. the room descends into a tranquil stillness, where the only audible sounds are the rhythm of your breathing, his own breaths, and the faint echo of blood coursing through your veins.

completing his task swiftly, onceler finishes wrapping the bandages around your arms. without any need for words, you rise from your kneeling position, using the wall for support. though it proves challenging, you manage to reach your feet, albeit with considerable difficulty. in a moment of dizziness and confusion, you sway, grappling to find your balance and reorient yourself in the disorienting haze.

onceler taps your arm gently, his voice soft and caring as he asks, "need a little help there?"

once again, you nod, your voice unable to find its way to your lips. 

he sighs, a tinge of disappointment permeating his demeanor. "alright, that's alright," he murmurs, his voice filled with understanding. with a gentle grip, he grasps your arm just below your armpit, preparing to lift you. however, before he proceeds, he leans in closer, his eyes searching for any glimmer of communication. "are you... are you gonna say anything?" he softly inquires, hoping for even the smallest response.

you're uncertain why it matters, but you shake your head, signaling that you won't. what could you possibly say?

he lets out a sigh, his breath mingling with yours, and accepts your decision. "okay, then. it's okay," he murmurs softly. with a swift and determined motion, he lifts you onto your unsteady legs, hunching down to support you with one arm wrapped securely around your waist. your other hand clings weakly to the end of the towel, grasping onto any semblance of stability you can find.

his touch is the only thing preventing you from collapsing.

"okay. you ready?" he asks, his voice filled with a blend of concern and determination.

still, you remain silent.

the journey back to your room is quick, the transition from the dimly lit bathroom to the comforting warmth of the space seamless. onceler tenderly lays you down on the bed, the room still bathed in gentle shadows. he navigates through the darkness, searching for something with uncertain movements. eventually, he finds a t-shirt and a pair of pajama pants, holding them up hesitantly. you give a small nod, silently accepting his offering.

respecting your privacy, onceler turns away, giving you the space you need to take off the towel and your clothes. the sound of running water reaches your ears, indicating that he's filling a cup, preparing to quench your thirst.

"are you alright?" he asks, his voice filled with gentleness and concern.

once again, you say nothing.

he enters the room, holding the glass of water, while retrieving the damp towel from the bed. with concern etched on his face, he extends the glass toward you, his eyes pleading and filled with worry, urging you to drink.

the waves of nausea surge within you, threatening to overpower your senses. with reluctance, you accept the glass into your trembling hands. the first sip tastes bitter, but as the cool liquid cascades down your parched throat, you recognize the desperate thirst that has consumed you. overcoming the initial bitterness, you continue to drink, emptying the entire glass, finding solace in the soothing sensation it brings.

a soft chuckle escapes onceler's lips, his amusement breaking through the heavy atmosphere.

he retreats to the bathroom once more, leaving you alone with your thoughts. your gaze fixates on the bandages that adorn your arms, your fingers lightly tracing over their soft tautness. moments later, onceler returns, placing the empty glass on the bedside table. as he looks at you, a profound understanding shimmers within his eyes, unspoken yet palpable in the air between you.

"take your time, y/n," onceler murmurs gently, his voice filled with patience and understanding. "whenever you're ready, we can talk. or not. whatever you need." he offers you the space and freedom to choose when and if you're ready to open up

his words hang in the air, a lifeline amidst the darkness. with a deep breath, you sink into the comfort of the bed, wrapping the covers around yourself. your exhaustion weighs heavily, and the embrace of sleep beckons you.

onceler remains by your side, his presence a silent promise of support, as you succumb to the darkness that envelopes your fragile soul.