Request for Divinasgfreal
TW: Eating Disorder, Self Harm
(Ari speaking spanish if you squint really hard)
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924 words
As the sea sung far from reach, the candle burning ginger, yet thumping your heart was with whiffs of garlic and weeds of sharp scallions the knife rested beheading all breath the vegetables produced, unfamiliar to the blood you unintentionally anticipated, never reaching.
The gloves on your freshly bathe palms, wrist wrinkled under the sweater you campaigned around, cotton and fleasy, grey as never seen in the summer sky of these months, battling alongside the intrusive wondering of your close pairs never falting as days scattered.
Looking across the platter, boiling water behind you yearning, she's never hungry when arriving late hours regardless. Therefore, those scrawny, gluten-free crackers will have to hold your hunger in a pressurized hug until noted further.
You were a hypocrite to the motivational quotes of calligraphic spreads and artist's paints far from this pasture called living. All the shadings and remembrance of the foreground and background all meaning, padding the overall piece yet still if implemented by the most talented, your aura, nonetheless, guaranteed outerplace and false shaping, taking away from the the experience really matter.
Ariana.
An experience with Hollywood, as an anonymous girl, being less than a glare to paparazzis' camera, a free trip into the grasps of unrestful punching from small ants, growing into creatures of animalistic men, sulking teeth and shadows deep, it'd only a matter of when the noose would fully twist and snap, now teasing you with red eyes and unfamiliar routes, laughing at your lost and vulnerability.
She knew all of the creeping, terror, resting reassurance in multiple dealings, pursuing only as much as a rice grain within the sand being quick and multiplying, deepening until shaving your legs for skincare, now routine therapy at any hour available to any skin posturing paler and sulking, but fresh.
You never allowed your sweater to be laundry by anyone else, yet it spread on the ground naked with tints of red. Demand for control outweigh the prickling, loudening the tears into puffy and course eye bags, the teabags were unnecessary for you internal health, for eye masks, smoothen as much for the forced awards and shows as a supporting, romantic figure.
You didn't take notice of the front door closing softly, uncommon even with the loudest of your running playlist, promptly finding solace in her arms. She took note of your irregularity of routine.
Her steps like your favorite bass, remained cold until the sniffling was heard, the bathroom door opening and a frozen figure, you didn't fight to stay annoynmnus, just staring her down into your spiraled self pity.
"I'll clean up after myself, I promise."
Thicken with the air of the misery companion it so craved, both staring, lost at different seas. She tripped over to the scene, being rocked against the wall, framing narrow between the bath tub and vanity on a wooden stole, marbling black and white imperfections. Ironic, maybe.
Balancing the flat silver disk, sharp as the one who's theorises revolutionized gravity, the same balancing your last razor from falling into the bath speeding up its death to rust, preventing excess blood flow front your cuts. Spreading her tears down her smooth cheeks.
"Oh Jesus y maría, y/n.. mi amor" forcing a mutuality, as much as you felt violated, almost.
Touch you as a baby, carassing your body with careful gestures Her intentions were always pure and light. You smiled with hurting, shrugging with stiff joints.
"The pain no longer stings. It's rather consoling."
Seedlings of clear punctures on her gloosy skin and fatale eyebags, keeping them as rasians through yours, banter being traded
"It's in my deepest apologies for not being here, sweety, I'm so very sorry.." Intentional truth within her sobs,
Even when you're hurt, you seem to disappoint more than yourself
"It's not your fault Ariana, it's-" you weren't straight thinking almost manic in your nonchalant and calm tone, you and the razor both as the sink now, being on rocky limp with a thin tissue stopping bleeding loss further around your arms.
"It's me, I'm the problem, the offense, the punching bag.. it's not on you." sighing out, rather tired from breathing and unnecessary movements. "It's never y-ou Ariana."
"Y/n, you're not okay, let me se-"
You step back. "I don't need nor want your pity, I'm gonna allow you to hold me.. just promise no questions. "
Coarse from dehydration and a hollow stomach finding toxic strength in adrenaline. You gaunt cheeks, barely fluctuating.
A human worry she could not hide for even the savior. You didn't fuly expect physcopath mode. Still, you felt smaller.
"Okay.. yes, alright, sweetie, no further questions as of right now."
Lively hands stroke your hair, arms tightening you in a warm cocoon, you slant frail but soft and vanilla scented to you, a signature, you weren't lost just yet.
Your back appearing shallow even within your baggy t- shirt, finding a home in the space but in your the 'excessive' skin was a house widowed still when amongst the bright comments pulsing in your mind.
Allowing this contact, deeply you missed her and this may be the last session of intimacy for you.. whatever takes your soul first. The ceiling broken into states of static and uneven stripes, you'd fall asleep with the trembling kisses she remained placing, you further contemplated on tomorrow's consequences by nature.
"You'll make it y/n y/l/n. You'll make it, baby."
One last kiss and whisper your internalized from your beloved, before, by a miracle, you faded.
