TRIGGER WARNING: This imagine contains self-harm. If you're uncomfortable with this, please skip this chapter.

I've said this in another self-harm chapter before, and I'll say it again. To those of you who does self-harm of any kind, I want you to know that you're loved and you're not alone. There are always people out there that are more than happy to help you. I need you to know that you're all so damn beautiful and amazing. I know life can be hard (an understatement to many), and I also know that many of you have heard this before, but I promise you it will get better. The way you're feeling right now is temporary. You're all warriors. Beautiful, outstanding warriors. And I believe in you.

***

John Imagine:

Beep... beep... beep...

That was the first thing you heard when you came to. The smell of sterile flooded your nostrils in an instant. Your mind was fuzzy, like you were swimming through darkness. A raspy groan leaked from your lips as you opened your eyes, only to be met with white. White walls, white ceiling, white floor... white.

"Y/N."

Your eyes darted towards the right, where you heard the voice. Your gaze landed on your boyfriend, John, who was seated in an uncomfortable looking chair next to your bed. He looked as though he hadn't slept in days.

He didn't need to say anything. You knew what happened. You knew where you were. You knew why your wrists were wrapped up in tape and gauze.

"It was a mistake," you croaked.

"A mistake?" John repeated disbelievingly. "Really? A bloody mistake? Enlighten me, Y/N."

"I didn't mean to go this far!" you tried to defend yourself.

"Y/N, that wasn't the only cut," John told you, his almond eyes hard on yours. "They found older ones, faded ones. You've been doing this to yourself for a long time, haven't you?" When you looked away from him without a response, he continued, breathing hard, "And you never said anything. You didn't tell me a damn thing."

"So what, you wanted me to burden you with my problems?" you said loudly, your hands trembling. "This isn't your concern. I'm fine, John. Really."

"You're fine?"

"It's helping me!" you yelled. "It... helps me forget. These cuts... they distract me from those girls who threaten to take you away from me and tell me I'm w-worthless and... and ugly and fat..."

"Screw them!" John suddenly shouted, making you jump. He stood up abruptly from his seat to glare down at you. "Who cares what they think? They don't know anything about you! They don't know! And if they can't understand how much I love you and how happy you make me, then to hell with them!"

"But what if they're right?" you cried. "What if I don't deserve you? What if all I really am is a stupid, hideous girl who can't-"

"I'm gonna need you," John breathed, "to stop talking and listen to me."

You couldn't help but stare. Was he... crying?

No way.

John never cries.

But he was. His eyes had pooled to the brim with angry tears, but there was something else. He looked... guilty?

"What those girls think... I could care less," he told you. Even though he was crying, his voice was surprisingly steady. "Let them think whatever the hell they want. I'm gonna love you until the end of time." He turned away from you to face the wall. You saw him quickly wipe his eyes. "When I saw you on the bathroom floor... with all that blood..." He balled his hands up into fists. "I couldn't b-breathe because... I should've seen it before... I still can't now that I know the woman that I want to spend the rest of my life with is doing this to herself."

"John," you whimpered, tears cascading down your cheeks.

"I don't want you to feel this way," he whispered. He turned back around. He walked over to your side and knelt down, grabbing your hand and squeezing it affectionately. "I want you to love yourself. I want you to understand that you deserve all the happiness in the world. Those girls, they're only jealous of you because you're such an amazing girl. You're my girl. My only girl."

"I just... d-don't know what to do," you sobbed softly. For such a long time, you depended on the razors in your bathroom to help you cope. You didn't know how to just throw them out.

"One day at a time, my love," John said gently. "Little by little. We'll take baby steps. And I'm gonna be there this time." He leaned forward and kissed your lips with as much love as he could muster. With his hand tangling through your hair, he said, "You need to understand this, Y/N. You're not alone. And you never will be. You're stuck with me whether you like it or not."

You giggled weakly as John scooted next to you on the bed, his arms blanketing around you.

You... are not... alone.

Requested by @AriPotatoLikesAn1mE!