Work Text:
Connor slid down against the painted door, his ass hitting the cold hardwood as his shirt slid over his thighs. His room was dark, thunder clapping in the wind; curtains blowing across the room. Through blurred vision, he scrambled for his phone, the piercing blue light blinding his already hindered vision.
He opens the contact of the only person who can help him. You.
🤍 MY LOVE
-baby
-con!! hi handsome :))
-can u come ovr? miss u
she knew what this meant.
-ofc baby. omw
read 1:35am
Connor sighed, shivering under the harsh winds from his open window. He glanced down, lifting his leg to reveal the sticky mess of red shame from his leg. He could feel hot tears fall from his chin, splattering next to the droplets from his leg.
He usually never texted them during times like this, since the shame ruined his conscious and clouded his judgement. Last time he reached out, he had gotten violent, ripping his hair out and shoving her against the wall. The memory of it made his scalp sting in the places where his hair was now shorter than usual. It’s a miracle they stayed with him after that.
A thump across his room snapped him out of the clouds, and his head forced itself up, half-lidded eyes straining to make out the figure approaching him. And through those clumped, wet lashes, he could see the figure he’d grown to adore, the shape of his lover kneeling before him.
“Come here, sweetheart. Let’s get you cleaned up.” They whisper, tucking his slightly greasy hair behind his ear, fingertips gliding across his sticky cheek to wipe a tear away. Their presence was like a drug, melting away the stinging ache in his thighs. They helped him to his feet, slowly, as to not startle him.
As much as he wanted to protest, he was too tired, blood trickling down his legs as he stumbled along to the bathroom, her in his grasp every step of the way. Suddenly, the flush of the bathroom light flooded his vision. He hissed, rubbing his eyes painfully. Quickly, his partner tore his hands away, “You’re going to give yourself pink eye.” They murmur, worriedly as they kiss the back of his tacky — red stained palm.
The sound of water running made Connor’s eyebrows furrow, eyes screwing shut as he adjusted to the new sound and light in the room. He didn’t know he had started crying again until his cold lashes struck his eyebags, causing his face to scrunch in dissatisfaction.
They noticed this, quickly dimming the lights as best they could. “Sorry,” They whisper, resisting the urge to press a kiss to Connor’s slitted, chapped lips or his temple. They knew how he was in this state, and touching him excessively was a recipe to get fucked up. Instead, they just brushed their fingers together, a gentle and barely-there reminder that they were still here for him.
Once the water had gotten warm, they filled up his bathtub. Meanwhile, they turned back to Connor with a soft smile, “I dimmed the lights. Will you take a bath with me? Just so I can clean up. I want you there.” They learned that making Connor forget about the self harm encouraged him to do self-care. It reduced guilt and shame from relapsing, they noticed.
Connor slowly let his eyes fluttered open, pupils dilated yet slowly fixing on the lovely face of his partner. He didn’t say anything yet, just glanced down at himself, beginning to notice the droplets of blood he trailed into the bathroom, staining the clean tiles. Tears filled his eyes again, but before he could speak, his mind was interrupted by them; brushing a tear away from his cheek. Slowly, his head creakily turned to them, and he nodded. Every movement ached, sending ripples of pain through his back from all the knotted muscles and bruises.
He slowly began reaching for the hem of his shirt, their angelic voice piercing their hostile thoughts, “Do you want me to help?” A usually soft and kind question, but one that—at the time—seemed like hell. People touching him would feel like fire ants, crawling under his skin and nesting into his muscles whilst eating away whatever fat was left on his body. His silence was telling as he subtly writhed in his own skin. He didn’t need to say anything. They knew. So, while he worked on his own clothes, they did the same; ridding of their t-shirt and shorts, as well as their undergarments.
Once they were both undressed, they took a moment to look at him. Really, look at him. Most of the time, seeing him naked was mixed in a cocktail of horny need, lust and messy kisses while their teeth clanked together. This time was different. They noticed smaller things, like the way his kneecaps dipped inward on the sides, or how his lips pursed when he was uncomfortable. Their eyes trailed over him, as if they were memorizing each centimeter of his body.
They blinked out of their haze, “Do you want help getting in?” A calm question, one meant to mask the awe and adoration they were feeling for Connor in that moment. He shook his head quickly, using his arms to cover his chest as he stumbled towards the bath, stepping into the warm water slowly. He slid down onto his bottom, the steam penetrating his congested nose, the water seeping into the fresh wounds, clearing them of all the guilt and shame that he had just sat with in his bedroom. The warm bath was a stark contrast from the freezing floor of his bedroom; a puddle of his blood plaguing him.
Shortly after he got comfortable, they got in after him, admiring him from across the tub. “Can I touch you? I need to clean you up,” They whisper, not reaching for any products as to not pressure him into saying yes or no. After a moment of thought, and staring through his own reflection in the water, he nodded. The water was tinged with red, since his wounds were still bleeding and had yet to clot properly.
Their hands felt warm, melting away all the knots in his skin. Their hands brushed under his thighs, tugging him between their legs. They took a loofah with a small amount of a gentle soap, lathering it until bubbles foamed at the surface, covering their hands in rose-scented soap. They placed one of their hands on the curve of his hip bone, gently brushing the loofah over the fresh scars, scrubbing them clean and sterile. Then, their hand slid up to Connor’s waist, the loofah dragging over his back and shoulders, getting the rest of his body properly clean before they even considered getting out.
Slowly, they rinsed his body off, the warm water dribbling down his chest. He made a noise halfway through a moan and a sigh, his head lolling back against the wall by the bath. “Fuck.. I missed you,” He mumbles, voice gravely and thick from crying. They hated to say it, but he sounded sexy, his back arching as they finished washing him off. He placed his hands on his thighs, trying to cover the shame. They gently removed his hands, placing their own on his wrists to guide them to their waist.
“I missed you too. Can I kiss you? Please, baby.” They whisper, reaching one of their hands up to Connor’s lip, thumb brushing against the skin. He nods, and their lips touch. His were chapped, the taste of his blood on theirs. Their kiss was gentle, tender, and lacked lustful intent. They knew he needed actual love and not lust. Well, at least that’s what they thought.
He shifted towards them, their kiss deepening significantly. He whimpered into their mouth, pressing closer. It felt like the world around them stilled, like the light in the corner stopped flickering, like they couldn’t hear Connor’s parents arguing downstairs. His world shrunk significantly, even once they separated.
“Thank you.” He whispers, leaning his sticky forehead against theirs, their combined sweat from the hot bath and now clean bodies pressing together. When they pulled away and gave him a confused look, he continued, “For everything. When stuff like.. this..” he pauses, staring down at his arms, “happens..I usually feel so fuckin’ useless and sensitive.“ He rubs his forehead, groaning, “This is so sappy. Never mind.”
They laugh, tossing their arms around him, tugging him into a loving yet tight embrace. “I love sappy Connor Murphy,” They tease, pressing a kiss to his temple.
He leaned into their touch, sighing shakily. His eyes fluttered shut, wrapping his arms around their neck. He began to giggle, causing his partner to look over at him; confused. “What’s so funny, you?” They tease, poking his cheek.
“Someone’s gonna have to clean my fucking blood.” He murmurs, smiling against their neck. They groan, leaning back against theirs bathtub. “Not it,” He adds, nuzzling his nose against their neck.
“You’re lucky I love you, Murphy.” They mumble, running a hand through his hair as he relaxed against their chest.