TW for Self-harm.

Blake wasn't feeling into it today. She was tired, the whole entire school was annoying her, and her arm wouldn't stop aching and itching no matter how much she scratched through her sleeve. It kept distracting her mind from her book as she read in the library. In fact, she had already reread the same page at least three times by this point. After the fourth attempt Blake finally relented and looked at her arm. The sleeve on her hoodie had a bit of red poking through the grey material. Her brain lit up and pulled it down without thinking about where she was to inspect her arm.

A dark red, scabbed line, surrounded by dark bruising was prominent on her arm. Somewhere along the way through her school day, Blake had opened it back up with her scratching and had bleed enough to go through her hoodie. A nearly silent curse escaped her mouth because she knew she would have to find a new way to cover it now. It wouldn't be very hidden if her sleeves had blood on them.

By the time she made it to a bathroom, the blood had completely soaked through and made a huge, noticeable blotch on her sleeve. Blake ripped her hoodie off and shoved it into her bag, hoping that no one would walk in on her while she cleaned her arm. It was taking a long time though. It was like it refused to stop bleeding despite being covered and having pressure put on it. The second Blake lifted her hand it would continue bleeding which would just get washed down the sink.

Blake was panicking now. She had nothing on hand that could help stop or hide her injury. Nothing in her backpack had a chance of helping and now the irritating itch caused by the cut began developing into a noticeable ache. Between having to wash the blood away as it showed up and having to figure what she was supposed to do just made it worse and worse. "Why won't it stop?" Blake asked herself over and over. An answer escaped her completely along with her ability to think clearly when the ache finally made its way into a mind-numbing throb. Ten minutes of the pain eventually forced Blake to lay on the floor and clutch her arm in desperation. "Stop, stop, stop… please stop.." She whispered to herself over and over. Blake didn't know what to do. Her arm and the hand that grasped at it was stained in blood. "I can't…"

The bathroom door opened. Blake lifted her head in hopes that whoever came along could do something to help her. It was her literature teacher that always had nice things to say about Blake's writing. "Miss Palestone!" Blake called out loud. A new throb of pain threatened to force Blake's mouth closed.

"Oh, Blake!" Her teacher replied, looking down at Blake's huddled body with a smile. "I just came in to wash my hands from lunch." She explained. "I hope you finished your paper to turn in next period."

Blake was so confused at what was happening. The way her own teacher was able to look down at her and smile while she writhed on the floor of a school bathroom. "Miss Palestone? I need help.. my arm.." She tried.

But it didn't work. Instead of helping, Miss Palestone simply washed her hands. "Sorry but I can't stop to chat or give you tips on your homework." Then she started to dry her hands. "I've got to set up the classroom before everyone shows up and also finish looking over some turned in assignments." She started walking out the door. "Have a nice day, dear." And then her teacher was gone, leaving Blake to continue enduring the pain. Blake couldn't believe it herself. Did her teacher not see what was going on? Another throb ran through her arm, pushing her disbelief out of her mind. Her phone!

She couldn't believe she had forgotten it. Though she never used it that much in the first place. Through each shot of pain that now was spreading from her arm to the rest of her body, Blake managed to reach her pocket and pull her phone free. The struggle to get it unlocked and her mother's number dialed took many agonizing minutes. No one answered though. It just rang and rang until the voicemail asked for a message. Blake dropped her phone and her body was racked with a large wave of pain. "What did I do?" Blake asked herself. "Why won't it stop.." She kept on muttering to herself even as the school bell rang and students started flooding the halls and even the bathroom she was in. No one paid her any attention though. They instead would just step over her or even on her to get to the sink she was most likely in the way of. Their footsteps were marked as they stepped through the blood that had come from Blake's own body. At this point, Blake wasn't even trying to get someone to help and let them go on while her body started to grow colder and colder. She was dying. It was only just a matter of time. If she just closed her eyes…

Blake shot her eyes open. Where was she? It was too dark besides the glow of… her computer screen sitting on her desk. Her breathing was hard and labored, like her chest was being sat on and pinned to the bed. She kicked at her covers in panic trying to escape anything that made her feel trapped. A thump on the floor got her attention. Blake quickly rolled to see what the sound was and saw her phone. It must have fallen off her bed when getting her covers off, though that revelation didn't do anything to stop her panicked state. Only one idea came to mind. Blake reached for her phone and dialed the only other important number she knew.

More anxiety tried to eat at Blake as it rang. Once, twice, three times… but then she answered. "Blake...?" Yang's sleepy voice filled Blake's ear.

"Talk to me, Yang." Blake pleaded desperately. "Please.. I just need you to talk…"

There was a short pause that made Blake think that Yang simply hung up. "Did I tell you about Coco nearly going to detention today?" Yang started. Blake knew who Coco was but never had spoken to her. "She sits behind Velvet in my math class. They're super close friends from what I know." Yang explained. "Well, Coco noticed a kinda big tear in Velvet's jacket which made her want to fix it. But instead of just asking for it after school, Coco just pulled out her sewing kit that she just apparently always has and started sewing it up in the middle of class while Velvet was still wearing it. The teacher noticed and tried to tell her to pay attention but Coco was just all, 'shh, shh. Just keep teaching and don't mind me.' Mrs. Heart started looking so pissed, but Coco just kept ignoring her until she was done. She might have actually sent Coco to detention if poor Velvet hadn't been so embarrassed by being a part of it." Yang softly laughed to herself. "I knew Coco was a bit of a fashion queen but I thought it stopped at that. Turns out she's got, like, a whole miniature studio going on in her room. Sewing machine, reels of fabric, and what I think would be a very creepy mannequin. She wanted to show me a picture but mannequins are super weird to me so I talked her out of it." Yang's voice was slowly calming Blake's mind. The heavy feeling in her chest was disappearing and being replaced with a comfortable warmness. "She told me how Velvet models her experimental work for her. Coco always looks fashionable so I bet whatever she comes up with looks amazing. I'm thinking maybe I should model for her just so I can wear stuff like she wears all the time. How about that, Blake? Want me to be a fashion model for you?" Yang asked, making Blake finally smile.

"That does sound pretty cool." Blake replied, hoping the shake of her voice was gone. "Though I've always been fine with plain old Yang."

Yang's giggle at that response warmed Blake up even more. "True. Though, maybe the occasional fancy Yang wouldn't be all bad." She replied.

"Maybe." Blake said simply.

"Everything okay?" Yang asked quietly.

"I'm doing better. I… just had a bad dream is all." Blake explained. "It woke me up and I just needed to hear your voice…" There was guilt leaking into her explanation.

"Hey," Yang basically whispered. "You know I'm here. If you had said you needed to see me, I would have been there before you could even hang up the phone."

Blake definitely believed her girlfriend. "I don't think my parents would like you showing up at one in the morning." She said.

"Well too bad." Yang quickly said. "I'm here for you, not them."

"Yang…"

"It's true, Blakey."

"I know, Yang." Blake relented. For a minute or two they both were silent, just letting it all sink in.

"Need me to keep talking?" Yang asked.

Blake didn't want to keep Yang awake so late but she couldn't let her go yet. "Could you.. Stay up with me a little bit longer?"

"For as long as you want, Blakey." Yang said quietly.