Work Text:
Emmett's going down again.
He can feel it, the slow tightening of his stomach, energy thrumming through his fingers and he knows what he has to do but - he doesn't want to. He doesn't want to open up old scars, he's been healing so well... Or has he? Memories flash through his mind of scratching his arm, absentmindedly picking, and feeling that familiar twist of satisfaction when the blood begins to drip. His breathing is loud, too loud in his ears. He sinks to the floor, reaching for his phone to text Elle, but something stops him.
Elle isn't Emmett's first girlfriend. He had one before, a beautiful and charming girl called Chiara. He spent the entirety of their relationship in awe that he managed to pull someone so stunning - and that was the first problem. Whenever he confessed this to her, she rolled her eyes, of course she was so lucky to have him. It never felt sincere. Instead of coming out on his own terms, it happened during an argument, angry and desperate. She reacted with disgust. Pushed him away. That was the start of - of everything. At 17 years old, impressionable and struggling with anxiety, she basically destroyed his life. It makes Emmett feel sick just thinking about it now. So instead of texting Elle, he leans against the wall, trying to take deep breaths, head spinning, heart pounding, mind racing.
Just four words.
Can you come over?
And just one more.
Please.
She responds immediately, caring but confused. Of course. What's up? You ok? Xx
He ignores her, crying softly and trying his hardest to bleed.
---
"Emmett? You ok, honey?"
Long past the ability to form words, he lets out a sob to let her know where he is. His eyes are jammed shut, glued with tears. Blood is caked under his nails. It makes him want to throw up. He hears Elle gasp.
"Oh no, what - what happened? Ok. Ok." She walks over, footsteps soft. "Can I touch you?"
Appreciating her check-in more than he can vocalise, he nods. She immediately pulls him into her arms, rubbing his back soothingly. Her warmth, her familiar scent, it's enough to make him start crying again, but this time less heaving sobs. The pathetic whimpering noises disgust him. Elle however doesn't move away, only holding him tighter.
After what feels like hours, Emmett has recovered enough to sit up. He wipes his face viciously. "I'm so sorry..." he whispers.
"Don't do that," Elle counters immediately. "Emmett, I love you so much. We've been dating for nearly two years now. I'm here for you. All of you."
"Somehow I doubt that," he mutters.
Elle winces. "What happened?" She hesitates. "Ok, no. We're going to get you cleaned up first, I'll make you some tea and then we can talk about it. Alright?"
Emmett nods wordlessly.
"Come on then."
She cleans him gently, sponging off the bloodstains and bandaging his ravaged arms. Once he's wrapped in pyjamas and a hoodie, they sit on the couch with mugs of hot, sugary tea. Elle sits up straight and looks at him with kind eyes. "What started this - attack?"
"Um..." Emmett pauses. "I don't actually know. I think I was just worrying about work, and then I could feel the panic creeping in and kind of got in my own head. I - there's a lot you don't know about me. I had a girlfriend in high school but..." He trails off, subconsciously rubbing his wrist. Elle catches his hand. Squeezes it comfortingly.
"I care about you," she murmurs, "so much. And nothing you tell me will push me away. Nothing."
"Ok." Emmett takes a deep breath. Then another. "I have anxiety. I'm bisexual. And -" He jams his teeth into his upper lip, shaking his head hard. "I can't..." he gasps. He can't even look at his girlfriend in case he sees the disdain in her eyes.
"Emmett," she says gently. A hand creeps to his chin, turning his face to hers. "You don't have to tell me. But for the record, I'm pansexual. And even if I wasn't I wouldn't break up with you just for being bi. Never. Is that what your old girlfriend did?" He nods. "Oh, I'll kill her..." she breathes angrily.
Emmett laughs sadly. "Don't. But - thank you. Honestly." He clenches his fist. "Ok. I'm - I'm also a trans guy." He lets out a sharp breath.
A small smile creeps onto Elle's face. "That's - I don't really know what to say to that? Cool. Um..." She sets her mug down and pulls him into a hug. "I love you," she says, muffled in his hair. "And," she moves back, fixing him with a serious expression, "if you ever feel like you need to hurt again, call me. Please. I don't want you feeling alone. I can't believe I didn't spot before. I mean -" She covers her mouth, tears brimming. "I'm so mad at myself," she whispers. "I could've helped."
"Hey, no." Having to comfort someone else is almost a relief to Emmett. He hates being helpless. "I hid it really well. I'm too good at covering up things."
"I know, but I should've noticed. I mean, you always wear long jumpers and blazers and shirts, how did I not find that suspicious?"
"Why would you?" He nudges her. "Hey. You're here now. Honestly, you saved me. I don't know what I'd do without you."
Elle kisses him on the cheek. "You'd be fine. But I'm glad I could help." She smiles. "Want to watch a crime drama?"
"Sure."
As they turn on the TV and settle back into the couch, Emmett marvels once again at how lucky he is. But this time, it's for finding someone who actually makes him happy. He might be struggling - hell, he really is struggling - but he'll be ok. Someday. With her.