Work Text:
It was a late Monday night and despite the next school day looming over your head, you decided to stay up even later. Your parents were away once again meaning that you were free to play your music as loud as you wanted to and you gladly did.
Your latest sewing project was in your lap as your fingers moved deftly, weaving a sewing needle through denim and patch fabric. You were working on a pair of pants and just finishing up the base layer of square patches needed.
You moved your head to the beat as you pushed the needle back and forth through the fabric.
‘Clink’
All of a sudden there was a sound of something small hitting your window and you looked up. Normally with your music playing you wouldn’t hear such a sound but this one you were used to hearing. After all, there was only one person you knew who would be at your window so late.
You carefully set the pants and needle aside on your bed. The moment you stepped onto the cold floor, a shiver down your spine and you were glad you made the decision to wear your fluffy socks tonight.
'Clink'
'Clink'
You forgo putting on a jacket and open the window to look out into the night. Standing right by your house was Pickles, your best friend and arguably probably your closest one now. Ever since his show, you started hanging out more at school and sometimes even outside of it.
Believe it or not, even Pickles friends began to notice the new friendship and would make jokes about it. They’d say that he was getting ‘taken away’ from them and that he was ‘turning soft’. Almost all the time Pickles would respond with a “Shut up, you douchebags!” but he could never hide the blush that covered his cheeks.
“Pickles! What are you doing tonight?” You leaned out the window and looked down at him. Sometimes he came over after a show or if he came early enough, dragged you along with him.
“Is it alright If I come in?” His voice sounded hoarse like he just got done with a screaming match but at the same time wet like he just finished crying. Immediately you frowned but recognized it was gonna be one of those nights. The ones where Pickles parents would yell at him, spewing insults and comparing him to his brother. They’d tell him how if he lived his life differently, like Seth, then maybe they could love him.
You were told it all on the nights when he would run away and seek refuge in your house. The ‘tradition’ (if you could even call it that) started after almost a whole year of knowing him. Pickles didn't like being vulnerable and it took a lot of time for him to even talk about his family without being dismissive, or worse, defensive over them.
However, that all changed after a particularly bad fight with his mother that ended in him being cruelly slapped. Sure, they’d have their disagreements before but it never got physical with her until that argument. That same night, Pickles crashed into your arms and cried for the first time in front of you.
You thanked your luck that your own parents weren’t home as you ran through the house and to the front door to swing it open. Pickles was already standing there, looking even more miserable than you originally thought. He was wearing pajama pants and a baggy old band shirt. You noticed he wasn’t even wearing his shoes meaning he never planned on leaving his house.
However, more importantly, you could see how Pickles eyes shone with unshed tears. Despite there already being old tear tracks still staining his cheeks. You figured he’d been crying on the way over.
“Come on in, you can talk to me or we can just sit if you want.”
You opened the door wider and ushered him into the warmth of your home. Most of the lights were off but you knew every hallway of this house and you bet he did to with how much he came over. Regardless of that, you offered your hand to him. Not only to help guide him to your room but also the small comfort of a gentle touch was what he most likely needed.
Pickles stumbled behind you and let out a couple sniffles though he tried hiding it with the long sleeve of his shirt. His parents tried time and time again drilling into his head how ‘unmanly’ he was for crying but you always reassured him that it made him no less of a man for doing so.
Once you got to your room you dropped his hand and shut the door behind the both of you. Pickles hadn’t said a single word yet and he seemed to be zoning out as he folded his arms close to himself. Only now that you saw him in the light of your room did you see suspicious blotting on his sleeves.
“Pickles.” The tender sound of your voice brought him back to the present.
“Come sit down with me, yeah?” You grabbed your sewing project from your bed and set it aside. While you were at it you dimmed your lights and shut your music off to be more comforting. Pickles hesitated but sat down stiffly near the bottom of the bed like he was trying to put distance between you and him.
“Pickles..” You had to murmur his name to get his attention once more as you sat down on your bed. His spacing off was worrying and you wondered if this meant something worse than any other night had occurred.
“You don’t have to worry about anybody seeing you. It’s just us here and I’m not like them, I won’t judge you no matter what.”
That finally got Pickles to look into your eyes and you could feel your heart physically hurt at the sight. He didn’t look anything like the school's ‘bad boy’ anymore but instead a hurt child seeking comfort.
Pickles opened his mouth like he wanted to say something but all that came out was a pitiful whimper. Quickly, his shaking hand shot up to cover his mouth in embarrassment and he looked away. You could tell he was trying so hard to keep his composure but it was a losing battle.
“It’s okay. You don’t have to rush to tell me anything. I’m right here.” You reached out to touch his arm, something you’ve done dozens of times. However, this time he unexpectedly flinched back, pulling his arms closer to his body
“Oh Pickles..” You whispered sadly. You knew the signs and there was no denying that he had done something.
That seemed to be the final breaking point for him as tears finally fell from his eyes and he started wiping them away aggressively. You only saw Pickles cry a couple times when he’d visit but never to this extent and so quickly at that. Sobs racked his body so harshly you were afraid he was gonna hyperventilate.
“I’m so fucking scared. The bleeding won’t stop. I- I didn’t mean to, I really didn’t mean to do it.” His speech was slurred and you could tell he must have drank before as well. Just then his own sentence was interrupted by a sob before he continued in a delirious manner.
“I don’t- I can’t have my mom find out. Or Seth- Oh my god if he finds out-”
Now that Pickles started he couldn’t stop himself from spewing the worst of possibilities. You hated seeing him, someone usually so confident and sure of himself, break down like this.
You were lost on how to help so you did the only thing you knew how to do, reach forward and pull him into an embrace. It seemed like the right thing to do because he immediately clung onto you tightly and started crying even louder.
“Shh it’s gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay. As long as you’re here we can figure something out together.” You whispered as you rocked him back and forth slowly. This continued for a while with you soothing him with comforting words and him crying into your shoulder.
After a while his sobbing turned into muffled crying and then into those annoying sniffles that persisted even after he stopped crying. For a little bit you thought he might have fallen asleep before he sniffled and tried to push his head farther into your shirt.
You slightly pulled away just to look at him but he held onto your shirt tightly like you were going to let go. Just then, did you realize he was physically trembling.
“No- Nono” Pickles spoke in a rushed panic.
“It’s okay, I’m not leaving. I just want to tell you something. There is nothing wrong with you. No matter what you did, or what you do. It’ll never make me think less of you.” You looked into his green eyes that were now devoid of their usual spark. He tried looking away, maybe from some lingering embarrassment but you cradled his face and that pulled his eyes back to you.
“And let me make it clear. Whatever happens here, whatever you tell me. None of it leaves this room, okay?” You didn’t want to ramble on but you wanted him to never forget it.
You thought it was impossible but more tears welled up in Pickles eyes before he forced them to be blinked away. Slowly but surely he pulled away from the hug, though he never left your space.
“I-” Pickles sniffled once more before he closed his eyes and took a shaky breath. There weren't any words he could come up with so instead he just pulled up his left arm sleeve. He looked away out of shame as you took in what he was showing you.
Even in dim lighting you could make out the jagged lines-cuts that littered his wrist. They didn’t look particularly deep but due to the alcohol he consumed, the wounds were still wanting to bleed like he said earlier.
Pickles took your silence as something bad and yanked his sleeve back down harshly despite it hurting even more.
“Fuck I shouldn’t have shown you that. ‘M sorry I fucked up. And I don- I don't know what to do.” He whimpered pitifully.
Without hesitation you cradled Pickles face once more in your hands and used your thumbs to gently wipe away the tears on his cheeks.
“Please don’t cry. I’m glad you came to me for this. How about we go clean you up now and you can tell me what happened tomorrow?” You calmly reasoned.
With a hesitant nod, Pickles agreed, knowing that he was gonna have to talk eventually. With a smile you brought him into another hug and squeezed him with all your might while still being wary not to hurt him.
“Okay, good. Once we’re all done, you can stay the night here tonight and we can even skip school tomorrow if you want.” You promised and started to stand up and make your way to the bathroom. Though not before grabbing his hand and leading him to follow.
Cleaning and bandaging the wounds wasn’t as bad as you thought it was going to be. The cuts were messy, yes, but thankfully not deep enough to need stitches. You gently dabbed away at the blood with a damp wash cloth before putting a strip bandage on each wound to keep them closed.
The whole time Pickles was silent but you were just glad didn’t seem to be spacing out anymore. Once you were close to done he finally spoke up.
“Thank you for this and just dealing with me in general.” Pickles voice sounded rough, reflecting just how much he’d been crying.
You were about to interrupt and tell him how he didn't need to thank you but you realized it would be better to let him get all his thoughts out.
“I know this isn’t how you wanted to spend your night. Or any of these nights for that matter. But I’m grateful you’re still here. Even with my shitty family issues.”
Pickles ended it with a self deprecating chuckle. He wasn’t the best at expressing how he was feeling and often used humor when he did. His friends never talked about emotions and feelings and neither did his family so he never quite perfected the skill. You nodded along as he spoke to show that you were listening and started wrapping his wrist in gauze for extra pressure.
“You don’t have to thank me when I want to be here for you.” You say assuredly.
“And if those douchebags can’t see how much of an amazing person you are, then maybe they don’t deserve to see you at all.” You spoke with bold certainty that didn’t leave any room for questioning. Though you figured the rest of this talk could wait for tomorrow and Pickles already looked so exhausted from all the chaos of the night.
“Come on, we can talk more tomorrow. For now you need some rest.” You put everything away back in its place and led him back to your bedroom with little difficulties. Just like how most of these nights ended, you laid out many blankets and pillows for him on the floor.
Finally you turned off the lights and made it to your bed as Pickles got comfortable in his makeshift one. You turned to face him and smiled when you could see him already dozing off under the covers. It was nice knowing he was somewhere safe and away from his family that caused this all in the first place.
“Goodnight, Pickles.” You say quietly and eventually drift off to sleep as well.