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side-effect-of-the-meds · 5 years

Note

Can you write Erin with OCD (like intrusive thoughts, obsessive fears, compulsions)? and her and Matt (since you said they’re friends) having a convo about it? (Matt forces the conversation ofc lol)

And here it is!!!!!!!!!! Disclaimer time: I’ve had like three people read this. The first one didn’t talk to me for a few days after it and kind of retreated into herself bc it hit too close to home for her. The second couldn’t make it past the first few paragraphs bc it was too painful for him. The last was shook bc he knew I wrote to escape some of my own pain. As desensitized as our fandom is to the phrase “I’m fine”, I really am fine. I’ve gotten a lot better than I used to be and am well on my own road to recovery so don’t worry.

Trigger warnings: extreme descriptions of blood + self harm, violent thoughts, suicidal thoughts, generally heavy themes including vague allusions to homophobia and rape and body-shaming, substance abuse, pain and angst beyond compare. If you survive all that, you can see Matt taking care of Erin at the end.

Blood runs in rivers down Erin’s forearms, thick and hot pouring slowly but steadily from the freshly parted flesh. Glass bottles are lined up on the counter, waiting for their turn. Every person has their coping mechanisms. Kevin’s was drinking and Erin’s was cutting. It was the worst symbiotic relationship in the world. Every time Kevin finished a bottle, Erin had a new one to slit her wrists with.

A shaky breath left Erin’s lips as she leaned heavily on the sink. Pressing her forehead to the cool marble counter, a savage smile tinged her lips. It hurt. The stinging of her cuts sliced through the emptiness that has consumed her for so long. More, she thought. I want more.

Pain was the easiest thing for Erin to feel. Most days it was the only thing she could feel. Day in and day out, Erin found her drugged haze parted by bouts of immense anguish. Laying alone in her bed, she found herself assaulted by memories of lecherous old men making her bed frame creak. Seated beside Aaron as he hisses at her in sharp German, she can practically feel the savage yank of a woman’s hand in her hair. Changing out in the locker room she hears the laughter and banter of the other girls and has to force back memories of girls jeering as they forced her face into another girl’s chest.

Pain was the easiest thing for Erin to feel. Most days it was the only thing she felt but emotional pain wasn’t something she knew how to deal with. It wasn’t until Drake that she’d found this sinful pleasure. Just like Kevin, Drake drank like his life depended on it. Collecting the empty beer cans littered around her room, she carted them to the bathroom. Ripping one open, she rolled her sleeves up and brought the jagged edge to her skin. Screwing her eyes shut, she ran it against her skin, forcefully down the length of her forearm. The first time was the worst. The first time was the best. Pain and pleasure flooded her systems. Her eyes blew wide at the ecstasy rushing to her head. She hissed a breath through her teeth. It hurt so, so fucking good.

From there, Erin only got worse. Kitchen knives danced across her skin. Lighter flames burned away the lingering weight of Drake’s rough hands on her hips. Walking home from school one day, Erin passed a trash can brimming with broken bottles. Her heart pounded in her chest as a smile split her face. With every step she took, she could feel the euphoric rush of adrenaline coursing through her veins. Her veins soon to be split open. Maybe one day Drake would find her bleeding out.

“Tell me what you’ll do then, brother dear?” she cooed to herself. Sucking in a shaky breath she tossed the trash can lid away. Sunlight glinted off the jagged bottles. Erin plunged both her arms into the bin. A groan tore from her throat. For a few blissful seconds Erin was alone, swaddled in the blinding pain of glass parting the delicate skin on her arms to reveal the red sea. Pain and pleasure wound themselves together until Erin could no longer discern where one started and the other stopped.

Neither her departure from the Spear’s nor the love of her cousin and the attempts of her brother to bond with her changed things for her. In fact, they only made it worse. All her life, there’d been a part of Erin hellbent on her survival. It was the part of her that always seemed to get her in the most trouble. Any time someone brushed past her it screamed for her to shove them away. Every time someone smiled at her it urged her to claw it right off their face. These thoughts made sense when it came to Tilda and Luther but Nicky? Aaron? It took every ounce of Erin’s willpower not to throw them down on the floor and close her hands around their throats. Every day as she passed Aaron in the halls at school she stared straight ahead. The very sight of him sent fire coursing through her veins. She feared that one day she’d snap and break his neck in front of everyone.

Her instincts had made sense long ago. Back in California, Erin had always had to watch her back. Far too many innocent touches had gone too far. Far too many sweet smiles had twisted into wicked things that sent shivers racing down her spine. Deep down, she knew that Nicky would never hurt her. He was just a big, dopey puppy that had spent its whole life getting kicked but was too stupid to learn. Aaron was too. He wasn’t quite as stupid as Nicky but Erin never missed the desperation in his eyes as they tracked Tilda moving across the room. She never missed the softening of his frame when Tilda dragged an idle hand through his hair or pressed a kiss to his temple. Aaron and Nicky’s blind loyalty to their parents were their only faults.

That alone didn’t justify the vicious violent thoughts plaguing Erin as she lay awake, staring up at the mattress above her. More than once she’d climbed the ladder to Aaron’s bunk and watched him sleep, her hands hovering around his throat. Unlike Drake, Aaron was far smaller. His muscles had just started gaining some definition as his exy training grew more and more rigorous. Aaron also couldn’t fight if his life depended on it. Often, it did. Erin had had to bail her brother out of more than one scrape in the six months they’d lived together. One night as her fingers brushed up against his throat a single thought cut through her paranoia. Unlike Drake, Aaron was her brother. Her real brother. Alone before the mirror in the bathroom, she traced the planes of her own face, so reminiscent of her brother’s.

Maybe that was why she hated him so much. All her life there had been another little voice chanting alongside the other. Much like Erin and her brother, they were the exact same and yet nothing alike. Where one was hellbent on her survival, the other raged against it. Erin stared deep into the eyes of the girl in the mirror. She blinked and the reflection shifted. Dark circles rimmed blood shot eyes. Chapped lips pressed together into a hard line until they had almost entirely disappeared. A far more sickly frame replaced Erin’s own. Track marks raced up and down the exposed arms.

Lifting her own arm, she saw the reflection mirroring her. Bringing a shard of glass to her skin, the reflection brought a needle to his. Viciously, she tore her arms open with the little sliver of glass. Feeling flooded Erin’s sense for the first time in months and she groaned, squeezing her eyes shut. As the feelings began to ebb away, she peeled her eyes open. In the mirror the reflection smiled savagely at her. A needle was embedded neatly into the crook of its arms.

“Aaron, no,” she begged. Tears ran like rivers down her face. Laughter filled her head, echoing through her skull. “Aaron,” she pleaded. She collapsed on the floor, clawing at the cabinets and smearing blood over them. Every person has their coping mechanisms. Erin’s was cutting and Aaron’s was getting high. If Erin wanted to save her brother, she’d have to save herself first.

Erin swept the shards of glass into a dustpan and emptied them into a bag to throw out the next morning. She scrubbed every drop of blood off the counter, cabinets, and floor. Winding bandages around her arm, she made a mental note to invest in more long-sleeved shirts. A lot of Nicky’s clothes were long sleeved. They were perfect for hiding Erin’s scars from her brother and, more importantly, her body from men.

Erin’s body was hers. She wasn’t ashamed of it but she certainly wasn’t proud of it either. Everyone she’d ever met faulted her for not taking pride in her beauty. Every one of them had been told to fuck off. Erin’s body had gotten her into far more trouble than it was worth. Hiding it seemed like the logical thing to do.

Nicky was elated when Erin came to see him of her own volition. When she’d asked for his old clothes, he’d been overjoyed, babbling about how he’d always wanted a younger sibling to hand his clothes down to. His eyes grew wide as if he’d just realized something. From the bright shine of his eyes, Erin knew it couldn’t be anything good. It wasn’t.

“We could go shopping!” Nicky exclaimed. “Oh my god, we could go to the mall and take Aaron-” The scathing look Erin sent him had him cut him off. “Or you could just pick out whatever you want,” he said, softly. Watching Nicky curl into his shoulders, sent a pang through Erin’s chest that she squashed quickly. Skirting around him, she threw open his closet to examine the contents. Up until Nicky’s disastrous attempt at coming out, Luther had been the one picking out his clothes. All of them were incredibly conservative pieces in dark, muted shades. They were exactly what Erin needed. With her scars out of sight, Erin hoped they’d stay out of mind as well. They didn’t.

The self-destructive voice in her head began whispering soft, sweet lies to her. It told her if she did it just one more time everything would be okay. It’ll make you feel so good, it cooed. Don’t you want to feel good? Don’t you want to feel something- anything! Don’t you want to feel again? When that failed, the voice took a darker turn. You aren’t worth shit. You think you’re something great now that you’re Erin Minyard? Wrong. You’ll never be a Minyard. All you’ll ever be is Erin Doe, a little slut from San Jose. You’re not even a good whore either. Who’s going to want a girl covered in scars? No one was ever going to love you. At least you could have sold you’re body but now? There isn’t a soul on the face of the Earth that would touch you with a thirty-nine and a half foot pole much less pay to do so. There’s no point. Just do it. Just slit those little wrists and let yourself bleed out. Maybe it’ll earn Aaron a sympathy vote and he’ll get into college with it. Maybe you’ll finally be of some use. It wasn’t until Aaron had gone sober that the voices got too much for Erin to bear. The timing couldn’t have been better.

All the pieces of Erin’s plan had fallen into place. Buckling her seatbelt, she sat beside her mother as they sped down the highway. Do it. Kill her. Kill yourself, the voice chanted. Steeling her nerves, Erin reached across her mother and yanked the wheel as hard as she could. Tires screeched. Tilda screamed. Erin’s pulse pounded in her ears. Adrenaline flooded her system. She felt the savage curve of her smile and leaned back into her seat, basking in the familiar high that preceded the pain as the car careened towards the barrier. Glass shattered and flew, embedding itself in Erin’s skin. A gasp escaped her lips. It felt so, so fucking good. Bathed in blood with her brain swimming in ecstasy, Erin barely registered the arrival of the paramedics. Her time at the hospital passed in a foggy haze on account of the pain meds. The only thing she remembered with any clarity was Aaron’s sobs. She was certain everyone in the hospital could hear his drunken wailing but the hospital staff had long ago given up trying to quiet him. Keeping him out entirely hadn’t worked either. He’d scaled the drain pipe and broken into Erin’s room. A small part of her was impressed by his tenacity. The rest was angered by his stupidity. What would have happened if he had fallen? He’d have died, is what.

The hospital couldn’t have his death on their hands so they simply moved Erin to a secluded ward so her brother wouldn’t bother the rest of the patients. Everyday after school, Aaron came to the hospital and did his homework on the floor beside Erin’s bed. Whenever he thought she was asleep, he’d crawl into her tiny hospital bed and wrap his arms around her, crying into the crook of her neck. The first time it happened, every one of Erin’s survival instincts kicked in. For once, all the voices in her head agreed. They screamed for her to throw him off of her and shatter his skull on the too white walls of the hospital. Aaron’s voice cut through her drugged haze, silencing all of them.

“Don’t go, Erin. Please, don’t go,” he had whispered, smoothing her hair down. “Don’t leave me here alone.” He isn’t like the others, Erin thought. Learning to love Aaron wasn’t going to be easy and Erin knew it. Baby steps, she told herself. Pain coursed through her body as she lifted her arm, winding it around her brother’s shoulders. Threading her fingers through his hair, she lay her head atop his and waited for him to cry himself to sleep.

Once Erin was discharged, Aaron retreated back into his shell and Erin’s heart sank. Communication wasn’t Erin’s forte. As if seemed, it wasn’t her brother’s either. She wanted things to work between the two of them. She really did but if Aaron wouldn’t talk to her, they weren’t going to get through this. Despite Nicky’s relentless effort, the twins’ relationship deteriorated exponentially. Not a single word passed between the two of them. Not unless Aaron was drunk anyway. That Aaron didn’t count. People always said stupid things when they were intoxicated. Knowing that only made everything so much worse. After tucking her brother back into his own bed, Erin would retreat to the bathroom. Locked away all alone, Erin fell back to old habits. It was Erin’s only indulgence, her only reward for all she did to protect her family.

It was a habit she kept up until she met him. Matt. Mother. Fucking. Boyd. At six feet, seven inches, he towered over Erin. She didn’t even reach his shoulders. Appearance aside, Matt wasn’t like anyone Erin had ever met before. He was quiet and kind and awkward and incredibly genuine. She hated him immediately.

As wary as she was off the lanky bastard, she couldn’t help but wonder what secrets lurked beneath his own sleeves. She’d seen him take his shirt off to wipe the sweat off his body, only to reveal armbands stretched from mid-bicep to mid-forearm. None of the upperclassmen ever questioned him about it. Erin had a hunch it was because they knew something she didn’t. Swallowing her pride, Erin sought out Renee for some answers. Of all the upperclassmen, Erin liked Renee best. She couldn’t quite place why, though. It definitely had nothing to do with the delicate beauty that threaded through her solid frame or the fact that Erin had once seen Renee crush a watermelon with her thighs. Nope. Not at all.

Whatever the reason, Erin decided it didn’t matter so long as she got the answers she needed. Cornering Renee in the locker room, Erin sorted through her drugged haze. No matter the answer, Erin knew she needed her full attention for it. A somber look overtook Renee’s features as she told Erin what she knew of Matt’s tale. Erin felt her heart clench. She told herself it was just a side effect of the drugs but she couldn’t quite shake it. Some small part of her wondered what would have happened to Aaron if she hadn’t forced him through withdrawal. Would he have ended up the same shy and fearful creature as Matt? There was nothing wrong with being quiet. Erin herself hardly ever spoke while off her meds, but something about Matt’s reservedness wasn’t quite right. There was so much light and life just waiting to burst out of him but something was holding him back. Erin theorized that it may have been growing fear of falling back into old patterns. Unlike Erin, Matt had managed to keep his urges chained down. But at what cost?

Matt rarely ventured far from Dan, Allison, and Renee. There was nothing wrong with maintaining a close circle but Matt’s dire longing for friends was bright as day. Erin would never knock her own bad habits and she knew why. No one had ever cared for her. No one had ever been there to help her and no one ever would. Matt’s father was a dick and his mother was at wit’s end.

Erin groaned and let her head fall onto her desk. She picked it and let it drop again and again as if the action could physically dislodge the thoughts from her brain. Eventually, she gave up and dug her phone out of her pocket, along with a slip of paper Renee has given her. Erin dialed the number on it. Matt’s mother picked up on the second ring. Her voice was bright and cheery, exactly as Erin hoped Matt’s would be if he survived what she had planned for him.

Convincing her of Erin’s plan was unsettlingly easy. She had severely underestimated his mother’s desperation. Regardless, she invited Matt to Eden’s with his mother’s blessing. Leaving Aaron at Fox Tower, Erin pulled out all the stops for Matt’s party. Cracker dust, pills, and a wide selection of syringes were laid out for him like a feast fit for a king. Erin, Nicky, and Kevin watched as Matt trashed himself. About an hour later, they found him dangerously close to meeting his maker on the floor of the men’s bathroom. Squatting down beside him, Erin gave him a sharp smile.

“Oh, Matthew,” she said, shaking her head. “If only your mother could see you now. What would she say if she saw you like this?” Erin watched as Matt’s eyes grew impossibly wider.

“Mom,” he croaked. Tears rushed down his face.

“Guess you’ll just have to hope you’ll see her again in the next life. Good luck with that,” Erin said as she straightened. She left Matt alone in a pool of his own vomit to mull over her words. The Monsters crashed at Eden’s for the night so that they wouldn’t have to move Matt or leave him behind. A massive weight dropped off her chest when she saw Matt hobbling around the next morning. Matt spent the next few months keeping his distance from Erin and The Monsters. It wasn’t until he found Erin shadowboxing alongside a video of his mother that the rift between the two of them began to heal.

“You’re putting too much weight on your front foot,” he said as he stood at the base of the basement stairs. Erin whirled around, knife out. Matt raised his hands in surrender, a quiet calm had settled over him, a bored look in his eyes. It wasn’t the Matt that Erin had come to know these last few months. This Matt was something else. Something monstrous. He stared emptily at her until she lowered the knife. A small, sharp smile tugged at the edge of his lips. He knew he’d won. Dropping his hands, he strode past Erin to her laptop. He rewound the video until he found whatever it was he was looking for. “Here it is,” he said as he turned the laptop for her to see. “You’re balance is off and it’s skewing the rest of your footwork.” Erin turned a steely gaze at him. He set the laptop back on the table Erin had found. “Watch.” He stood beside her, leaving a healthy space between the two of them. He took up a fighting stance and waited for Erin to copy it. He threw a punch at the empty air in front of him. Erin mimicked it and he shook his head. “You’re throwing your body forward. If you lose your balance, you’re done.” Matt spent the better part of an hour unteaching all of Erin’s misconceptions of fighting. When Erin came down to the basement the next night, she found Matt waiting for her. It soon became apparent to Erin that their post-practice lessons would now be a nightly occurrence. To her surprise, she didn't quite mind it. In fact, she sort of... enjoyed them?

Night after night, Erin channeled her frustrations from the day into punching punching bags across the room. It soon evolved into sparring matches between her and Matt. He was far bigger and far more experienced than she was but that only made her small victories all that more satisfying. Above all else, Erin found herself inexplicably drawn to this Matt. It wasn’t a mask he pulled out just for her. No, it was like looking through a diamond in which each image was just slightly distorted and none in the same way. This Matt was rough and mean and he fought dirty. He was just enough of a bastard to be worth knowing. At the end of each night, that Matt slipped away. In his place was the one everyone else knew. It took Erin a while but, gradually, she started to grow fond of that Matt too. Sitting side by side, she watched him ramble on and on about Dan.

“She’s just so amazing, ya know?” he said, starry-eyed.

“She’s pretty badass,” Erin admitted softly.

“Hey, mind if I ask you something?” Matt asked, snapping his gaze back to Erin.

“You just did.” Matt returned her empty stare with a wry smile.

“What exactly is up with you and Kevin?” he asked. Erin let her eyes fall shut and leaned her head back against the wall. Of course he’d ask about that. She really didn’t want to talk about Kevin that night. Just a few hours ago, he’d been getting on her about her diet. He’d accounted her recent weight gain to her sudden increase in ice cream intake. He wasn’t wrong but that didn’t mean he should say it, especially in front of Seth. Erin took more than enough of his shit without Kevin handing over more fuel for his fire.

“He’s not my type,” Erin said finally.

“Oh? Not into snobby rich guys?” he teased.

“I’m not into guys,” Erin replied. She peeled her eyes open to watch her words register across his face. His eyes grew wide and his mouth fell open. Light danced in his eyes as a smile began to curve his lips.

“Does that mean you and Renee-”

“I’m not fucking Renee,” Erin said.

“Not yet you’re not,” Matt said. “We’ll see if I can change that for you.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively and Erin glared at him.

“No.” End of conversation.

“Why?” Erin sighed, dropping her head into her hands. Why did he have to be like this.

“Because I said so.” It was Matt’s turn to sigh. He finished unwrapping his hands in silence and let the conversation drop. Until late Sunday night.

“Why?” he asked again. Erin already knew what he was talking about but she feigned ignorance. “Erin.” She didn’t answer. “Jude.” She dragged her gaze up to meet his. “Why?

“No one wants a girl covered in scars,” she replied.

“Scars?” She watched his brows knit together. Erin took in a breath to brace herself. Keeping her eyes glued to Matt’s face, she pushed the sleeves of her sweatshirt up to her elbows. She heard the strangled cry escape his throat and watched him clasp a hand over his mouth. Tears flooded his face as he reached a hand out to her arms. He stopped just before he could touch them. “Oh, Erin. What have you done?” he whispered. With her permission, he wrapped his hands around her forearms, swiping his thumbs across the ruined skin. He kept his head bent, studying Erin’s scars. She couldn’t see it but she knew he was still crying because every few seconds, another tear would slip down his face and fall onto her own skin.

“I’m going to bed,” Erin said finally, yanking her arms out of his grasp. As she left the basement, she could feel his eyes on her but she refused to look back. She didn’t think she’d survive seeing the anguish painted across his features again.

Laying in bed that night, Erin stared up at Renee’s bunk. Sleeping in a room with three other women took a serious toll on Erin’s mental stability. Changing in the locker room alongside them was hard enough but to constantly contend with them walking around without bras or pants drove her mad. As such, Erin spent as little time in her dorm as she could get away with. Much of her day was whiled away in class, on the court, or in her brother’s room. Night was the only time she couldn’t find a legitimate excuse to avoid them. It was her lack of hiding places so late at night that resulted in her discovery of the roof access. Slipping silently out of bed, Erin grabbed her pack of cigarettes and her lighter from the nightstand. Making sure she locked the door behind her, she padded down the hall to the stairwell. Erin’s eidetic memory easily recalled which steps squeaked and she hopped easily over them. The cool metal felt nice pressed against her bare feet. Not as good as what she had planned for herself. At the top of the stairs, she spent a moment jimmying the lock open before stepping into the cool fall air. Venturing towards the unguarded edge, Erin felt the adrenaline rushing through her. Seated at the edge, her breath caught in her lungs every time she peered down. It hurt. Not quite the same as cutting did but it did the job just as well.

Lighting a cigarette, she took a drag from it. She sang softly to herself, a trick she’d learned to calm herself when she was five. The combination of her own voice and the nicotine soothed her fraying nerves. All her hard work crumbled to nothing as she stood up, glimpsing the fall.

“Fuck,” she muttered. Turning her back on the dizzying drop, she trudged back to the door, singing to herself once more. Her body craved release. She stubbed her cigarette out on one of her arms, hissing at the pain. Discarding the butt, she pulled her lighter out of the other pocket and set to work on the other. Once she’d satisfied her urges, she trailed back down to her room. This time, when her head hit the pillow, sleep dragged her under.

The next morning, Matt refused to look her in the eye. Instead, he settled down in the bleachers away from the others and waved Erin towards Renee. As she ran laps with Renee, Erin couldn’t help glancing over at Matt in his lonely seat halfway up the bleachers. She wondered if they still had their late-night sparring session. God, she needed that sparring session. Kevin’s anxiety had been slowly but surely infecting her. If she couldn’t get rid of all the stress that had built up before she had to drive him out to another midnight practice, she might just kill him herself.

Fortunately, Matt was waiting for her in the basement that night. However, his usual smile was gone. Instead, his lips were pressed into a hard line. “We need to talk,” he said.

“Sounds like my cue to leave,” Erin said as she turned back towards the stairs.

“Erin, please,” he called.

“I don’t like that word,” Erin could feel the sharp edge to her words.

“Come here, Erin.” Erin let her shoulders sag as she turned to face Matt again. He beckoned her forward and she went. He took a seat on the floor. Erin sat down on the table.

“What did you use?” he asked.

“Knives. Glass. Lighters,” she replied. She kept her face as blank and her voice as disinterested as she could but it couldn’t stop the roiling of her stomach. Abby and Bee were the only people who ever asked her about her scars. Of course they did. It was their job. It wasn’t Matt’s, though. Why did he care what she did to herself?

“How long?” Matt pressed on.

“Since, I was thirteen so… going on six years?”

“Why? What does it do for you?” Erin stared at the floor. The weight of Matt’s gaze forced the answer out of her.

“Sometimes, I want to hurt people. I have these thoughts that happen at the worst of times. Last week, I saw a little kid walking her dog and my first thought is to rip it open and smear it’s blood all over her. I don’t know why. I just did. I didn’t want to hurt her. Or the dog. It was so small. So fluffy. Neither of them had even done anything to me. I think I just wanted to see blood. So I thought mine would be enough.”

“Was it?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“And what does your family have to say? What did Nicky and Aaron say?” A beat of silence passed.

“They don’t know,” Erin said.

“What do you mean they don’t know?” Matt exploded. “How the fuck can they not know?”

“Because I didn’t tell them.”

“Why not?” he demanded. Erin could feel facade cracking. Her hands curled into fists and she shoved them into her pockets.

“What if-” she stopped. “What if they don’t care?” Her voice trailed off. Angry tears welled in her eyes. Why was she telling him this?

“Erin,” Matt said, his voice cracking.

“Stop it!” she screamed. She slammed her hands over her ears as if they could block out his voice. “I don’t want your pity.” She screwed her eyes shut, trying to will the tears away.

“Does that mean Dan won’t love me?” Erin’s eyes shot open. “If no one wants a person covered in scars, does that mean Dan won’t love me?” Matt asked again. Erin dropped her hands as she watched him tug the armbands off his arms. Track marks raced up into the crook of his elbow. “Aaron’s got track marks, too. Does that mean no one will love him either? I’ve seen Nicky’s scars. He’s covered in them. That hasn’t stopped Erik from loving him. Wymack’s got scars. That’s why he got the tattoos; to cover them. Abby still loves him.”

“I said no one wants a girl covered in scars,” Erin snapped.

“Has that girl from Eden’s seen them? The one that served our drinks, I mean.”

“Ronnie? Yeah. What about her?”

“Well,” Matt said, his cheeks turning a little pink. “I heard her talking to one of the other servers and it kinda sounded like she might want you.” The words knocked the air from Erin’s lungs. Ronnie… wanted her? Ronnie had gone to school with Erin. She’d seen all of Erin’s scars, not just the ones on her arms. She knew where Erin had gotten them and why. But… she still wanted her?

“Oh,” was all Erin could manage.

Reaching a hand out, Matt stopped half an inch from Erin’s cheek. “Let me help,” he whispered. Matt wasn’t like anyone Erin had ever met before. He was kind and awkward and incredibly genuine. It was the reason she had hated him so much.

“I don’t need your help.”

“Never said you did. Erin, you saved my life. Let me save your body.” A tear trickled down Erin’s cheek. A finger brushed it away.

“I hate you,” she hissed at Matt. A soft smile tugged at his lips. He knew he’d won.

“I can live with that.”

In the following weeks, Matt begins devoting a portion of his time with Erin to teaching her coping methods. He teaches her to mix fake blood and sits with her, watching her paint it across her skin. It soothes her cravings and, as it turns out, she’d quite the artist. She paints artful swirls that slowly but surely turn into vines and chains and flowers and birds. Matt is in awe. Some days, he even lets her paint across his back and over his track marks. At some point, he gives up his armbands.

“I’ve already won my war,” he said, sliding the bands up over Erin’s arms. “You have not. Don’t you dare be ashamed of your scars, Erin. One day, you’re going to win your war. When you do, either you're going to give these to someone else or you’ll bring them back to me, alright?”He waited for her to nod, before smiling at her.

“Ronnie doesn’t love me,” Erin said.

“You’ll find someone, man. I promise you will and she’s going to be kind and pretty and she’s going to love you, scars and all.” Matt hesitated for a second. “Not that it’s much conciliation but I love you. No hetero, though.”

A bark of laughter escaped Erin before she could stop it. “No hetero,” she replied, returning his shy smile with a sharp one of her own.

#just a pipe dream #fem!andreil #erin minyard #erin jude minyard #matt boyd #the foxhole court au #the foxes #all for the game au #all for the gay #all for the game #aftg au #aftg hc #aftg #tfc au #tfc hc #tfc #musings of a sad bananna #reveal to me your deepest desires

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