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Viktor locks the door, taking in a shaky breath. There were steps to this process. First, make sure Astarion was out. It would be unwise to do this while his husband was in the apartment with him, wouldn’t it? No, no matter how bad it got or how distraught he felt, Viktor would always wait for Astarion to leave their house.
The second step was to lock the doors. Usually, he did this in the bathroom, since the clean-up was easier and there was no chance of getting anything stained. Viktor stood before the mirror, his hands pressed tightly against the counter. He felt the cool marble under his touch, his whole body shaking.
The third step, don’t hesitate. Viktor knew himself, he knew the moment he hesitated he’d convince himself to stop. Viktor reached into his pocket, taking out a mint container. He opened it to reveal a blade and a few bandages.
He took in a breath, feeling the air wrap around him and fill his lungs. Arms were too obvious, while Viktor loved long-sleeved shirts, he still lifted his sleeves often to cook or to paint. His thighs were his usual spot, the scars littered the expanse of his skin.
Viktor pulled down his trousers, staring at the straight lines running across his thighs. He hadn’t felt the relief of cutting for months. He just wanted a reprieve. So, he grabbed the razor blade and cut. Viktor cut deep , making sure it would leave a scar. He watched the wound turn from stark white to red, slowly filling over with blood.
A wave of calm washed over him, and Viktor sighed. He pressed the blade along his thigh a few more times, watching the cuts bleed. He found a strange sense of satisfaction from the blood, an odd feeling of accomplishment. Almost like it didn’t truly count if the wound didn’t run with red tears. Viktor pressed the blade to his skin lightly, not enough to cut but enough to feel the cold metal of the blade. He took in a breath, preparing himself for the quick sharp hurt of the blade.
The handle of the front door jiggled, the loud noise shocking Viktor out of his stupor. He hadn’t counted on Astarion being home until at least a few more hours. Viktor dropped the blade, grabbing a towel. He listened closely to the sound of Astarion setting down his keys by the front door and taking off his shoes. Viktor wet the towel and pressed it to his thigh, breathing in shakily.
“Darling? I’m home!” Astarion called out from somewhere in their apartment. “I’m in the bathroom! I’ll be right out!” Viktor called back, hurriedly cleaning the wounds. He expected more time, more room to get the blood away from Astarion and his blasted vampirism. He quickly bandaged his wounds and shucked up his trousers, throwing the bloodied towel into the bin. He collected the trash bag and shucked it over his shoulder, steeling himself.
Viktor unlocked and opened the door, stepping outside. He quickly made his way to the door, hoping to ‘accidentally’ miss Astarion on his way out to the trash. “Darling?” Damn it. Of course, he wasn’t that lucky. Viktor turned around, a placating smile on his lips. “Hello, Star.” He greets, taking in the sight of his partner. He loved Astarion, he truly did. He had countless drawings and sketches of his partner just to take in Astarions beauty.
Astarion glanced at the trashbags, raising an eyebrow. “You’re in such a hurry to…take out the trash,” Astarion commented, slowly stepping towards his lover. Viktor nodded, frantically looking for an excuse. “I have a lot of energy today! I wanted to do something productive with it, y’know?” He lied, putting his arms behind his back. He pressed his nails into his skin harshly, grounding himself.
Astarion nodded, smiling. “I can’t even kiss my husband…he’s too responsible.” Astarion lamented, sighing dramatically. Viktor rolled his eyes playfully. “You really wanna kiss me while I’m holding trash?” Viktor pressed his nails into his arm tighter, blinking slowly. Astarions eyes narrowed, and he grabbed Viktor's arm.
Viktor watched a small bead of blood drip from his arm. He smiled awkwardly, laughing lightly. “Whoops?” He offered, shrugging at his husband. Astarion frowned. “I smell more than just this blood on you, darling. What did you do?” Astarion asked, looking Viktor up and down. Viktor held his hands up in defense. “Woah! So quick to accuse, my love.” He jested, blinking up at Astarion. “How do you know it’s not just that time of the month?” He pointed out, holding his arm in his hand.
“Well, we’re almost out of pads.” Astarion looked up, narrowing his eyes. “You would have asked me to get some when I went to the store,” Astarion explained calmly. “So, do you want to talk about it? Or should we go to the bathroom to clean it up?” Astarion asked, offering two options. Viktor sighed inwardly. He’d have to talk about it anyway, so he might as well let Astarion clean the wounds.
He’d done this before, it was almost like a pattern. He didn’t do it every time that Astarion left, but enough times that Astarion knew what to do every time. He dropped the bag of trash at the door and let himself be gently pulled to the bathroom. He sat down on the toilet, making sure to put down the seat beforehand.
Astarion sighs, pursing his lips. “Okay, do you want to pull down your trousers for me, darling?” He asked, tilting his head. “Wow, you really want to get into my pants, huh?” Viktor flirted, wiggling his eyebrows. “I mean, at least take me out for dinner, star.” Viktor sighed forlornly. Astarion raised an eyebrow, not impressed. Viktor stared up at Astarion, pouting when he didn’t get so much as a giggle out of the man.
Viktor unbuttoned his pants, shucking them down his legs. He ignored the hiss that came out of Astarion, looking at the wall. Astarion lowered himself to his knees, observing the wet bandages. “Darling…” He breathed out, a tight frown on his face. Viktor lowered his eyes to Astarion, his body feeling…empty. How many times has Astarion had this same reaction? How many times will Astarion have this reaction in the future? How many times will they keep doing this?
Viktor doesn’t want to know. He doesn’t want to think about the very real possibility of Astarion leaving him. Viktor’s trouble and he knows it. Everyone knows it, including his husband. He just feels empty. He doesn’t know whether to cry or laugh at this, so he does both. Viktor lets out a choked sob, smiling sadly. Astarion coos, taking Viktor's face into his hands.
Viktor leans into the embrace, his body shaking. “I’m sorry…” Viktor apologizes, tears overflowing out of his eyes and down his face. “You have nothing to apologize for, my love,” Astarion assures. “Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?” He offers, standing to get a wet towel. Viktor buries his face into his hands. At this moment he wants nothing more than to sink into the ground and not come out until he feels sane again.
Astarion returns with a towel, and he quickly wets it in the sink. He grabs alcohol from the medicine cabinet and sits back down. “This is going to sting.” Astarion comments before dabbing the towel in alcohol. He presses it gently to Viktor's wound, with Viktor flinching back and letting out a small whimper.
“I know it hurts, my dear. I know.” Astarion whispers, focusing on cleaning up the wound. Viktor sighs in pain, blinking away tears. He knows pain very well, it’s a second sense to him. He knows pain almost better than he knows himself. But knowing something doesn’t make it pleasurable or even tolerable.
Viktor grit his teeth, staring up at the ceiling. Astarion moved to take the cloth off of Viktor's injured skin. He took new bandages and carefully wrapped them around Viktor's thigh, his touch gentle and soft. “Are these okay?” He asked, tilting his head. Viktor flexed his thigh, raising an eyebrow. “Yeah, it’s good.” Viktor smiled down at Astarion.
Astarion rose from his sitting position, sighing softly. “Now, do you want to be carried?” Astarion asked, peering down at his lover. Viktor scoffed, rolling his eyes playfully. “I can walk. It’s a few cuts, not a lost limb.” Viktor exaggerates. Astarion nodded, “As you wish, my pet.”
Viktor let himself be helped up by his partner, stretching lightly. He allowed Astarion to lead him into his room, breathing softly. He knew the moment he got comfortable, Astarion would ask for a ‘talk.’ Viktor hated the talks. It always started and ended the same way, and he truly didn’t understand why Astarion needed to know the exact reason every time. But, for now, he allows Astarion to set him on the bed, get him a glass of water, and pull him in a cuddle.
“So…do you want to talk about what happened, sweetness?” Astarion muttered into Viktor's hair, breathing in his lover's scent. Viktor took a moment before replying. “No, I don’t want to talk about it at all,” Viktor sighed, “But what would that do?” He asked, frowning into Astarions neck. Astarion nodded, slightly, processing Viktor's words quickly and succinctly. “Well, let’s talk then.” He pulled away from Viktor, almost drawing a whine from the man. “What pushed you to do this dear?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.
Viktor turned onto his back, sighing. “There’s no one thing anymore, Astarion.” He replies, throwing an arm over his eyes. Astarion drew his hand to Viktor’s chest, trailing his hands over the surface of his skin. “Why did you do it then?” Astarion asked, narrowing his eyes at Viktor. Viktor thought.
Why did he do it? If Viktor’s being honest, he doesn’t truly know. He’s done it for so long…it’s a habit at this point. It makes him feel more refreshed and less stressed about the world crumbling in on him. It’s a drug. Viktor turns over to face Astarion, frowning. “I…don’t know.” He stumbles over his words, tears pricking his eyes. His brain feels fuzzy, and his nose itches. He can feel a crying spell coming on.
Astarion nods, understanding. “Darling…it’s okay to feel upset, or sad. I just wish you’d call me instead of harming yourself.” Astarion explained, his exterior calm and collected. He remembered the first few times Astarion had found him covered in his own blood. It never went well.
Astarion stood in the doorway, a complicated expression on his face. Fear, anger, confusion. A mix of many emotions into one amalgamation Viktor couldn’t decipher. “Why…” Astarion gasped out, taking a step towards Viktor's body. “Why the fuck did you do this?!” Astarion stressed, his eyes flickering from Viktor's face to his wounds.
That day was hard for both of them. It was mostly a blur for Viktor, the blood loss getting to his head. He wanted to end it all that day, and it was just chance that Astarion found him. They weren’t good friends, but Astarion recognized the look on Viktor's face that day. He knew what Viktor was feeling because he had felt it too.
It got better after that, and within the year Astarion knew how to deal with Viktors' less savory tendencies. They confessed to each other, moved in, and eventually moved on to getting married. Viktor didn’t even know why he still felt the need to hurt himself…at this point, it was just something to help with extra stress.
Viktor sniffled, pursing his lips. “I want to tell you…it’s just—when I get into my head like that, it feels like no one exists. There is nothing past my urges, and nothing else matters but seeing my own blood.” Viktor attempts to explain, furrowing his eyebrows. Astarion stays patient the entire time, nodding along and listening dutifully.
“I just…I don’t know what to do.” Viktor whispers, looking up at Astarion. His eyes were tired, his demeanor small. Astarion placed his hand on Viktors, a small smile forming on his face. “We’ll figure it out, okay?” Astarion reassured, staring into his partner's eyes.
“Okay.” Viktor agreed, nodding to himself. He could try, if not for himself, for Astarion.
He could try.