Archive of Our Own ^beta

He didn’t know what to say.

Or do.

All he could think at that moment was how much blood could spill from a person. How it was able to cover the bathroom floor, beautiful in its own disgusting way, tainting the white tiles a rosy red. 

He didn’t know what to do as he stared at the figure, limp against the side of the bathtub, arms limp in his lap while crimson spilled ever so elegantly across his forearms, down his thighs and onto the floor. 

He didn’t know what to do when the old scars that littered his arms and thighs started to sting at the sight. A faint memory of the situation he’d once been in. 

He didn’t know what to do when his stomach twisted, not from disgust, but from sadness. From the guilt over the fact that he was frozen still, unmoving and not speaking. Simply staring. Like a person staring at a wild animal dying out before him, instead of helping, he just watched.

He didn’t blame II or IV for pushing past him, their voices muddled out against the silence that deafened his ears. He merely watched, as the two carefully pulled a small razor away from Vessel’s hands. II already rummaging through the cabinets in hopes to find a med kit that they stored in every room, simply for these moments. He couldn’t ignore the feeling of Vessel’s eyes, staring into his soul as if it were only the two of them.

III let his eyes wander past the blood, up the forearms and shoulders, meeting with a pair of beautiful blue eyes. Shining ever so brightly, maybe it had been the bathroom light.

No.

III realized it had been the tears that were streaming down Vessel’s face that glossed over his eyes, making them shimmer. It only caused his stomach to turn even more, bile growing in his throat. 

IV moved into his view, his eyes wide with worry, brimmed with tears that threatened to fall. The short man placed his hands carefully on top of III’s, gently leading the other away from the bathroom; to which III never let his eyes tear away from the door, as he was led out the bedroom door and into the hall. 

“III, you with me?”

IV’s voice was like the sun on a cold winter day, a breath of fresh air from the scene that had just occurred. III didn’t notice the hot wetness on his face as he tore his eyes away from Vessel’s bedroom door and down at IV. He couldn’t speak, too scared that the moment he’d open his mouth the bile would spill out. 

Instead he just stared, hoping IV would understand his silent plea. Thankfully he did, frowning deeply before giving III’s hands a quick squeeze. 

“He’s gonna be okay, just needs some patching up.”

IV swallowed hard, inhaling so deeply it seemed like he was trying to compose himself. That he didn’t only just bring III out here to help the other get grounded, but to help calm himself too.

“Why don’t you go to your room, yeah? I’ll join you soon, okay?” IV gave his hands another squeeze, soft but reassuring, an attempt to get III to feel safe. 

In return, III nodded, squeezing IV’s hands back before watching their hands fall apart, IV giving him a sad frown before turning around and heading back into Vessel’s bedroom. Shutting the door on his way in. 

Alone in the hallway, cold floorboards beneath his bare feet. The trees outside shook from the wind, making the windows, old and frail, shake from the strength of the breeze.

They shook with such force, III’s mind pondered on whether the house would even hold up still. He let his mind wander that way, preferred it would wander that way than the way it had been silent only moments before.

 In hopes that his mind would stay in that thought process, he quietly walked down the hall, passing two rooms before reaching his own room. Decorated with small photos of the trees, a few sunsets, and one that had the vessels all together, hugging after their first concert together. 

He didn’t smile like he usually would.

Instead he pushed past the door, locking it shut when he fully entered. His room was a mess, clothes piled on the chair at his desk, spilling onto his desk. Clothes and shoes were scattered on the ground along with papers. His bass guitar was propped up in the corner of the room, the only tidy spot within his little space. 

Like a robot he moved towards his bed, as huge as it was, specifically California king sized for III’s long lanky limbs. Yet it was the more used spot for the vessels to cuddle up in.

The blankets were tossed around, a mess from earlier that day when they had woken up, tangled within one another's limbs, blanket squished between their legs as the heat from the four made it too hot for a blanket. The sight made III’s heart twist and turn, letting his eyes fall shut for a moment before he slipped into the sheets, pulling the once ignored blanket right over his frame and making himself into a cocoon. 

Everything smelled of them. The pillows smelled like II, his earthy scent of dirt and freshly cut grass. The bed sheets smelled like IV’s cologne, musky and small hints of rosebuds, while the blanket smelled like Vessel. Like paint, rust and the smell of burning wood. It made his stomach twist more, the bile in his throat choking him out as tears streamed even more heavily down his face and into the sheets.

It smelled like happiness, like the warm sun on an afternoon. Like the mourning doves singing away. It didn’t smell like misery, like sadness, guilt and hatred.

That thought only had III sobbing more, the sudden guilt that no matter how hard he tried, how deeply he loved. He would never be able to fix the suffocating need to bleed.