TRIGGER WARNING: There will be self-harm in this Imagine. It may be slightly graphic. If this makes anyone uncomfortable, then by all means, skip this chapter.

Before you read, if any of you self-harm or are depressed, please know this: you are beautiful. You're not perfect, and that's what makes you beautiful. Your flaws are what defines your beauty. Never be afraid to be yourself. If you ever need to talk, I'm here. There are people that care about you. Don't be afraid to tell people how you feel. Don't think that they wouldn't care. If you feel alone, don't hesitate to message me so we can talk.

***

Paul Imagine:

You laughed as the ending credits to the show rolled. Paul smiled and pointed the remote at the screen, clicking it off, making the television go blank with blackness.

"The Three Stooges are always a joy to watch," you giggled.

"It's such a silly show," your boyfriend shook his head with a humorous grin. "But it makes you smile. And I love your smile. It brightens the whole world."

You blushed and smiled up at him. "I'm not perfect, Paul," you rolled your eyes, kissing his nose.

He scrunched up his nose and chuckled. "You are in my eyes, angel," he said with his signature sexy wink. "You know, the normal answer to such a compliment is thank you. You know, for future reference."

"Shut up," you laughed, whacking him with a couch pillow, tousling his smooth hair in the process.

"Usually, I'd be annoyed that you messed up my hair," Paul said thoughtfully. "But lucky for you, it's midnight. Which means bed time. I've got to get up early tomorrow for another recording session."

Without waiting for your answer, he stood up from his seat and scooped you up in his arms, carrying you bridal style. You let out a squeal of surprise.

"Paul!" you squeaked as he laughed, carrying you to your bedroom.

He tossed you on the bed once he had entered. You sat up and pouted.

"That's revenge for screwing up my hair, baby doll," he teased.

"I thought you didn't mind now since we're going to bed," you glared playfully.

Paul shrugged and cheekily smiled. Once you were dressed in your baggy pyjamas, you slid under the covers next to him. He shifted closer to you and swallowed you up in a warm embrace. He was quite the cuddler. Not that you minded.

"Good night, beautiful," he murmured into your ear.

You rested your head on his chest, where you felt his heart beat against your ear. The sound alone soothed your senses.

"Good night..." you whispered back.

***

It was around two in the morning. Paul had been asleep for about an hour. You didn't bat an eyelash the moment you went under the covers next to him. You couldn't sleep, but that wasn't a surprise. You hardly sleep.

It took you awhile to slip yourself away from Paul's arms, which were tightly enclosed around you. But you managed to without waking him up. Slowly and cautiously, you tip toed out of the bedroom and made your way towards the bathroom across the hall.

Once inside, you closed the door as quietly as you could. Even if Paul woke up to find you missing from the bed, he would think that you were using the bathroom for more obvious reasons. Still, you remained heedful.

You stared at yourself in the mirror, your expression blank, your eyes empty, an endless darkness that seeped into your very soul.

You couldn't understand. How could Paul, a man who was handsome beyond words, love a woman such as yourself?

He deserved someone beautiful.

I... am not beautiful.

I am not perfect.

Never have been...

Never will be.

You opened a cabinet below the sink and pulled out your most prized possession. It glinted wonderfully, temptingly, underneath the bright lighting of the bathroom. A razor.

You rolled up the sleeve of your left arm, revealing scars that you had created from the past, some fresh and some faded.

You steadied the razor on a clean spot and slowly dug it into your delicate, pale skin. You winced slightly but made no sound. A droplet of blood dribbled down your arm, creating a crimson line. The red liquid fell to the bathroom tiles. Small puddles of blood surrounded you. You ran the blade down slowly to add another fresh scar.

You closed your eyes, shuddering, succumbing to the pain. It cleared your mind of all thought, making you forget about your emptiness. An unsettling smile ghosted upon your pale face, your dried lips curving. It was bliss... a painful bliss that you craved to absorb everyday.

The pain had engulfed your thoughts, so much so that you hadn't noticed that your knees went weak. You collapsed to the floor, your back against the wall. You opened your eyes to stare down at the new ugly scar that you created. You didn't cry. You didn't flinch. You were used to it; you believed you deserved it.

A knock suddenly issued from the door, making you jump slightly.

"Y/N?" came Paul's groggy voice from the other side of the door. "Okay in there, love? You've been in there for awhile."

"I'm fine," you responded. You startled at your own voice; it was croaky, as thought somebody had torn it apart with their nails. It was unrecognizable, even by you.

Paul sensed your tone of voice. He knocked again, this time more frantically. "Y/N? Babe?"

The doorknob turned and the door swung open, revealing a worrisome Paul. You mentally cursed yourself; you forgot to lock the door.

Paul's worried face twisted into one of horror, of disbelief, when he saw you on the floor, clutching your bleeding wrist, with the razor tucked between your blood-stained fingers. You gazed up at him in shock.

"P-Paul!" you sputtered. "Y-you... you weren't meant to see this."

He didn't reply. You began to tremble as he stumbled towards you, his legs visibly shaking. He fell to his knees in front of you, his eyes never leaving your scars. The scars that you planted upon yourself.

He couldn't quite comprehend it. His Y/N, the love of his life, was hurting herself... How could he not see this before?

He didn't know what to say, so instead, he acted. He took your hand, making you drop the razor into his palm. Without a word, he flung it across the room, out of his and your reach.

"Paul?" you whispered. "Please... please say something."

"Why?" Paul's words came out in a broken whisper in an empty wind.

You remained silent. You knew the answer... but you didn't know how to say it.

"Why don't you value yourself?" he said, finally lifting his gaze to meet yours.

Your jaw dropped. You were speechless. His eyes... that were once so filled with life and happiness and love... were now pools of the darkest depths of heartbreak, spilling directly from his very soul. You had never seen him like this.

"Paul, you... you don't deserve me," you choked out. Your first round of tears puddled into your eyes. "You deserve... so much better. I'm nothing... I'm not beautiful. You called me perfect today... but I'm not. I'm not even close to p-perfection."

Paul stared.

"You're right," he said quietly.

"W-what?" you croaked.

"You're right," he repeated. A tear slid down his cheek but his voice was steady. "You're not perfect. But... Y/N, that's why I love you."

"I don't understand!" you cried. "You love me because I'm imperfect? You deserve someone perfect!"

"Y/N, don't you get it? Nobody's perfect! You're not perfect, nor am I."

You understood... but at the same time, you didn't. Your head spun into a whirlpool of confusion and despair.

"The fact... that you would hurt yourself like this," Paul said, his steady voice now becoming shaky. "Y/N... it kills me. Because you don't see yourself the way I see you. You're... so beautiful. And kind. I'm blessed to have you in my life, to be able to love you."

He wanted to take your pain away, to be the one hurt instead of you. How he wished for that, how he wished for you to be happy!

"I'm sorry," you sobbed. "Paul, I l-love you... but I can't help but feel this way... and damn it, I don't know why!"

"Of course you can't help it!" Paul exclaimed. "But that will never stop me from loving you. I'm going to help you now that I know you feel this way. And I won't give up. Because all I wish for is your happiness."

He took your hands and gazed down at the scars on your arm. He kissed each one gently, as though afraid he would hurt you, and then glanced up into your tear-filled eyes. He brought his lips upon yours, kissing you lovingly, spreading a kind of warmth throughout your insides.

He loved you... and you knew it. Deep down, you knew he did. You were imperfect. You were starting to feel okay with that.

It was not going to be easy to fight this depression. But now, it won't be as hard as used to be. Because Paul would be by your side the whole time, supporting you every step of the way.