Ficlet: untitled [Glee, Blaine-centeric, r]
Word Count: 219
Warnings: self-harm and suicide attempt if you read it that way
Notes: This is really short and I wouldn't cut it if it weren't potentially triggering. Apparently when my muse comes back, zie comes back angsty (also yes, my muse is genderless)
“Blaine?” He hears his name, in the sense that he knows Coop is calling for him and there’s a hint of worry in his brother’s voice, but it doesn’t really register in his mind. How could it, really, when he’s captivated by the shiny silver in his hands and the dripping crimson falling onto the floor. His attention is caught by the colors in front of him and the relieving pain in his wrist. It’s nice, oddly enough. Usually he didn’t like pain, but this is different than he’s used to. Controlled. He’s in charge this time, for these brief moments, and it feels good.
He’s lost in the feeling now, and his vision’s blurring. He knows on some level that he’s losing a lot o blood, but it feels too good to care. His consciousness is fading and he doesn’t realize he’s falling until he hits the floor.
He faintly hears footsteps and Coop still calling his name. There’s a banging on the door and he briefly wonders if he locked the door. He doesn’t remember and it’s getting harder and harder to focus. He’s barely awake, eyes forcing shut on reflex. There’s blood all around him on the floor and there’s a faint stinging in his wrist, and that’s all he really registers before everything goes black.
Warnings: self-harm and suicide attempt if you read it that way
Notes: This is really short and I wouldn't cut it if it weren't potentially triggering. Apparently when my muse comes back, zie comes back angsty (also yes, my muse is genderless)
“Blaine?” He hears his name, in the sense that he knows Coop is calling for him and there’s a hint of worry in his brother’s voice, but it doesn’t really register in his mind. How could it, really, when he’s captivated by the shiny silver in his hands and the dripping crimson falling onto the floor. His attention is caught by the colors in front of him and the relieving pain in his wrist. It’s nice, oddly enough. Usually he didn’t like pain, but this is different than he’s used to. Controlled. He’s in charge this time, for these brief moments, and it feels good.
He’s lost in the feeling now, and his vision’s blurring. He knows on some level that he’s losing a lot o blood, but it feels too good to care. His consciousness is fading and he doesn’t realize he’s falling until he hits the floor.
He faintly hears footsteps and Coop still calling his name. There’s a banging on the door and he briefly wonders if he locked the door. He doesn’t remember and it’s getting harder and harder to focus. He’s barely awake, eyes forcing shut on reflex. There’s blood all around him on the floor and there’s a faint stinging in his wrist, and that’s all he really registers before everything goes black.