j.

j or jay + they/them + writer + twenty-three + autistic

— fandomsִ ࣪𖤐.ᐟ heated rivalry, supernatural , criminal minds, heartstopper (red = favorite)

— links ꩜˚₊‧ masterlist | my ao3 | my side blog

— requests: open

ao3 link

cw: self harm, one graphic ish line but thats all

summary: shane deciding whether to relapse or not

an: hi waves!!! how is everyone. this is inspired by my best friend telling me to reach out whenever i wanna cut and me being like ok :) and then once i wanted to relapse again i had conflicting feelings. like girl TEXT HER and then the other part of me was like u wanna cut soooooo bad come onnnnn. and also today my sister literally just told me i need to stop being so picky about how clean dishes are (i have ocd ) and i was like oh so you want me dead. so you fucking hate my guts. i see. but yeah. i hope u enjoy. this isnt good but i got my feelings out and thats all that matters rn. im gonna go dilly dally on my ipad now. bye love u enjoy this can be seen as a second part to when it rains or a stand alone!!! whatever ur heart desires baby

Shane has always been, what his mom says, delicate. He takes things to heart easily.

Being unbothered (or nonchalant, as they say now) is not his strong suit, and he knows that. It’s no secret.

But it annoys the shit out of him. He hates this. It may be one of the parts about himself he hates the most. Like, he’s 27. Not 2.

In short, he gets anxious over everything. Is someone mad at him? Did he do something wrong? Did he make an honest mistake?

No context needed, he just spirals at everything.

That’s what brings him here. Post game loss, in his bed, sulking. His coach gave him a correction, and now he’s convinced he’s mad at him, he hates him, he ruined the whole game.

He’s been trying to stay clean. His self-harm relapse was in October, and it’s been pretty consistent since. 

Ilya recently found out about his…habit. (No, he’s not calling it an addiction. He’s not a drug addict. It’s not that serious.) They’ve made an agreement that if he isn’t home, Shane will call him if he has urges.

Of course, not being in the heat of it, he said okay. Because it sounds so easy, until you’re in it. And also, what else do you say? No? And the part of him that wanted to get better, that wanted recovery, agreed to this plan without having time for the other part of him to find reasons to say no.

Relapsing has made Shane realize nothing will ever come close to what cutting does for him. Especially now that he’s made his brain correlate cutting = calm. Damn Pavlov.

It’s gotten to the point that at the smallest, most minor inconvenience, he has urges to cut.

And since Ilya found out and Shane has explained more, Ilya knows that the smallest thing can set off Shane.

Which is why after the game, Ilya checked on Shane, but Shane pretended he was okay so Ilya could go out and celebrate.

Nothing ever gets past Ilya, but Shane insisted. He’s regretting it now. 

The half of him that gives in? Elated. So grateful he has a second alone so he can do whatever he wants and in peace. Finally. 

His feelings are conflicting with each other. Again.

So that’s why he’s in bed, heart racing, trying to focus on anything but the blood that comes from the fresh cuts. But he can’t shake the thought.

He knows he should call Ilya. But he’s also worried about bothering him. Is he too much? Ilya needs a break from him. He’s definitely tired of him. He’s only staying with him to be nice, he doesn’t really love him. He’s sick of him.

He also knows Ilya will be disappointed if he doesn’t call him. He hates when he disappoints people. Especially his loved ones.

Every now and then he glances to his nightstand, where his razor blade is. He told Ilya where they all are, and he threw them out, but he needed to keep one for peace of mind. It helps. At least he thinks it helps.

His heart is racing, his hands are tingling, he needs the pain. He’s aching for it.

Out of spontaneity, he sits up and opens his drawer. As usual, his fucked up side, the side that wants to relapse, that wants to stay in this hole because it’s familiar, comfortable, is winning. It will always win, he thinks. 

He shuffles around in his drawer and fishes out the razor blade. It’s shiny, cold. Just how he likes it. The sight of the thing brings him comfort, his heart rate already lowering. 

He shrugs his pants off, aiming at his inner thigh.

You’re cutting over what? Losing a game? You are way too old for this shit. Grow up.

These thoughts make him pause. He tries to think of the outcomes after both possible instances.

If he cuts, he’ll feel guilty, Ilya will probably find out (or his dying need to be honest will win and he will confess), it’ll hurt for a few days.

But if he doesn’t cut? He’ll feel proud, knowing he has fought off an urge. Hopeful for the future, then he can tell his fiance and Ilya will praise him. He loves when Ilya is proud of him.

He wants both outcomes. But he knows that’s not possible. The idea of giving in one more time is ringing in his head.

He puts the razor blade down and puts his head in his hands, pulling at his hair.

Spontaneity comes back, because after a few beats, he puts the blade back and shuts the drawer. He grabs his phone and goes into Ilya’s contact.

He doesn’t even like you. You’re bothering him.

He pulls at his hair with his left hand. He decides that this is probably safer than what he’s been doing. So he continues.

He takes a second, but clicks the call button. The ringing just gives him time to find reasons to back out. But those thoughts don’t linger too long, because he suddenly hears his fiance’s voice on the other end.

“Shane! Feeling better?”

Oh. He forgot he told Ilya his head was hurting.

“Yeah.” He pauses. What does he even say?

A few seconds goes by and Ilya’s voice softens. “Sweetheart? Is everything okay?”

Shane took a breath before he responded. “Um…I just don’t feel good. I don’t wanna be alone. Can you come home?” He closes his eyes awaiting the response that Ilya doesn’t care about him, so he’s gonna stay with his teammates.

But it’s an unspoken rule that “I don’t wanna be alone” is code word for: I feel unsafe. This applied to both of them. So Ilya agreed immediately.

“Yes. Yes, of course. Let me call an Uber. Do you want to stay on the phone?”

Shane nods even though there’s no one there to see it. “Yes. Please.”

Shane sits on the floor against his bed as Ilya narrates everything he’s doing. Shane doesn’t remember what he said, but his voice in it of itself kept him calm and distracted.

It wasn’t long before Ilya got home. “Ребенок. I’m home. I’m coming up.”

Shane hums. He then hears the door and quiet footsteps. Ilya walks over to him fast but gentle. He kneels down and puts his hand on Shane’s shoulder.

“Hey.” He looks Shane up and down, trying to assess what could’ve happened without having to ask. Given recent events, he can guess. He sits next to Shane.

“What do you need?” He learned that from Galinda. 

Shane turns to Ilya, eyes glassy. “You.”

ao3 link

cw: self harm. pls be safe <3

summary: shane self harms and ilya finds him

an: im projecting again. literally nobody moved. also i am safe. pls dont worry about me. i actually was going to sh but then i was like bro.. project onto shane again. and i was like twist my arm i guess! and guess what. i did not cut. so a win for me. title is from paramores song. bc thats been getting me through lately. also mitskis new album is all ive been listening to. if i leave is genuinely written about me i fear. ALSOOOOO thank you for all the love on the last fic. u guys make my ego so big. i also posted me singing on tiktok and my friends gassed me up so. one day my head is going to explode due to all this gassing up!!!!!! on that note i dont write well this is me venting and i need to find the fics where ppl are comforted after found cutting so. this is for the people like me. ok i love you. stay safe. enjoy the fic <3 mwah

This was not his ideal idea of how the night would go. 

He and Ilya would go, they’d socialize a bit (Ilya more than Shane, as per usual), then leave. It wasn’t gonna be a big thing.

Until it was.

Shane has trouble saying no. Which is a known issue between him and the people he loves. He doesn’t wanna be rude, okay? It seems impolite. He was raised to be polite.

So when he was offered dessert at this nice event, he couldn’t say no. He couldn’t!

And now he was paying for it.

Him and Ilya got home and he immediately went to the bathroom and shut himself in there. His mind was racing. He shouldn’t have eaten the cookie. There's so much sugar, fat, and calories. He is so fucking stupid.

Sitting against the door, knees to his chest, he felt the buzzing in his chest. The adrenaline rushed through his veins.

If you were to ask him to recall this moment, he swears he tried his coping skills. He really did. Box breathing, shocking his system, he even resorted to scratching his thighs.

But something inside him, something sinister and enticing, told him nothing will hurt as good as cutting will.

Nothing.

This thought scares him. He will never get used to it. He’s two weeks clean. He promised himself this time he would actually stop. Tell Ilya. Throw out the razor blades.

But that dark part of his brain told him It’s impossible to stop. Just do it one more time. It’ll feel so good. 

He closes his eyes and breathes. He tries to think of anything else. Literally anything but this. But he is so worked up the thought of cutting himself takes over his thoughts. He’s drowning in it.

His heart is racing, but he gets up to turn on the shower. So Ilya won’t bother him.

Bother me? That seems harsh. He shakes his head at the idea that Ilya could ever bother him. He hates when he gets like this. When he gives into the thoughts.

He has a razor in his phone case. He has one on hand all the time. In his nightstand, in his wallet, in his practice bag, it’s his safety net. It helps him breathe properly.

He takes his phone out of the case to put the cool metal between his fingers. 

He stares at it for a few seconds. His mouth waters. Waters. He gets surprised at his physical reaction to a razor blade. That’s insane. Am I crazy? Who’s mouth waters at the thought of seeing themselves bleed?

In his buzzing headspace, it’s not hard to get back to the task at hand. He quickly remembers what he’s about to do.

He sits on the toilet and turns to his left, holding the blade up to his shoulder.

He hesitates. The rational part of his brain reminds him how stupid this is. How he definitely shouldn’t do this. But the irrational part, the sinister part, tells him this will make his brain quiet. This will stop the buzzing.

He gives in within milliseconds and swipes at his shoulder slowly and hard. He watches with wide eyes as the blood bubbles up to the surface. It’s pretty, somehow. He knows thats fucked up to think, but it is.

It’s not as deep as he had hoped. Truthfully, he’s scared to go deep. He’s seen what people do. It’s terrifying to him. He’ll stick to this. What they call “cat scratches”. He silently prays this will leave a noticeable scar. That people will see and know that he has been through a lot. See that he is strong. He also wants proof for himself. Physical evidence that he isn’t weak. He can do hard things. (Ironic, seeing as now he’s cutting himself over something as small as a treat.) He just wants to see that.

He goes again, a little faster this time, watching how the blood from the first cut blends into the blood from the new one. He doesn’t want to wipe it yet, he wants to see it drip down his arm. 

He does it a third time, faster while keeping the same amount of pressure. This one starts bleeding faster. 

Seeing the blood and feeling the sting calms his brain down a bit. He’s definitely not buzzing as much. He exhales loudly as if he’s been holding his breath for the past 5 minutes. (Subconsciously, he probably has been)

Going in for another cut, he hears the door knob turn. He jumps and drops the blade. Ilya comes in.

“Hey, I was just grabbing my-” He stops and stares at the blood on Shane’s arm. After a second, he rushes to his husband’s side.

Out of instinct, Shane covers the cuts and turns away from Ilya. But he can’t. Ilya grabs his chin as if he was made of glass, and turns his face to look at him. Ilya definitely sees the tears forming in Shane’s eyes. Shane then realizes there’s no getting out of this. That this is over. He fucked it up. Like he does with everything. He just can’t stop fucking things up.

“What happened?” Ilya asks with a gentleness Shane hears every now and then.

Shane couldn’t get the words out. It feels like someone is choking him. He just shrugs. Where does he even start? Yeah I just hurt myself when I get sad. I’m fucking crazy and I like seeing myself bleed. 

“Did you do this to yourself?” Ilya asks. It’s very obviously self-inflicted, but he needs to be sure.

Shane just nods and whispers, “Yeah.”. He quickly glances at Ilya. Is he disgusted? Is he breaking up with him? Does he think he’s crazy?

But Ilya just looks… sad. There’s tears forming in his eyes. 

“Shane…” he takes a breath. “Why?”

And now that Shane thinks about it, what a stupid reason to cut. Over a cookie? He doesn’t wanna admit it out loud. He just shrugs again. Ilya asked the hardest question. Shane himself doesn’t even fully know why he does this. All he knows is it feels good.

Ilya drops the topic, pulling Shane’s hand away from his arm. He then goes under the sink to grab the first aid kit.

They sit in silence as Ilya cleans up and wraps his arm. Shane is so embarrassed. He’s embarrassed, he’s guilty, he’s mad, he’s relieved all at the same time. He hates this part. The part where his feelings contradict themselves. It’s definitely one of the worst parts of giving in.

Ilya cares for Shane’s cuts so gently. Shane often thinks about how something like this would go. How the people he loves would react if they knew he cuts himself. His mom, his dad, Hayden, but especially Ilya. He knows how odd that is, imagining being comforted. But it’s nice to think about. 

As usual, he can’t read Ilya’s mood. He still looks sad. Shane stares at Ilya very noticeably, desperately reading his face for a hint of how he’s feeling.

Since they know everything about each other, Ilya feels Shane staring. He quickly goes to comfort him. “Oh sweetheart I’m not mad, I promise. Very worried, but not mad.” Ilya cups Shane’s cheek and wipes away the tear from his cheek with his thumb. He kisses Shane’s forehead and looks at Shane for confirmation he heard him. Shane just nods. Ilya goes back to tending to his cuts.

Shane’s brain is so foggy he can’t tell you how long that took. Could’ve been a minute or an hour, he was just too in his own head to remember. But eventually they were done. Ilya pressed a light kiss to the bandage, and got up. He extended his hand out to Shane.

“Let’s go to bed. We can talk more in the morning. Okay?”

Shane nodded. “Okay.” He whispered.

They got up and made it to the bed. Ilya took his medicine and laid down, motioning for Shane to move closer. Shane put his head on Ilya’s chest. Ilya held Shane like this was his last time holding him ever. 

After a few beats of silence, Shane asked, “Are you sure you’re not mad?” He looked up at his husband.

Ilya just held Shane closer to him. He shook his head. “I’m not mad at all. I promise.”

Shane broke eye contact so Ilya couldn’t see him tear up again. This was unsuccessful, naturally. “Still, I’m sorry for worrying you.” He said while playing with Ilya's left hand.

“No, there’s nothing to apologize for.” Ilya said while rubbing Shane’s back.

He just nodded, even though he didn’t fully believe Ilya (anxiety is such a bitch), Shane knew from previous experience that there was no winning here. 

“I love you, ребенок.”

ao3 link

cw: internalized ableism. lmk if theres any others!

summary: after an autism diagnosis in adulthood, shane learns to unmask

an: helllooooo dayum long time no see! the supernatural fixation left, if you couldn't tell. like everyone else, i've seen and read heated rivalry and i relate to shane a little too much. and then i learned he's autistic. so of course i have to project my problems onto him. switch names and this is literally what my journal looks like. i don't write much and this wasn't looked over by anyone, so any advice is helpful. (just pls be nice or i will probably cry) also, any autism information comes purely from my experience. I did have to dig a little into autism in boys, but other than that this is my experience. so yeah :) i hope you enjoy!!!!!

Since he could remember, Shane has always masked his autism. Kids in school treated him differently, so he knew he had to conform. Over the years it became a habit. The only time he was unmasked was alone. So when his doctor suggested he had autism when he was 19, he was caught off guard. To him and everyone else, he acted neurotypical (for the most part). Bringing it up to his parents went well. His mom said “it would make sense, now that I think about it.” From then on, he left no stone unturned when it came to researching autism in adults.

The more he read, the more he believed his doctor. He remembers his teachers scolding him about eye contact and doing something like rocking in his seat, his intense interest in hockey, and his need for routine. There were some things that didn’t resonate with him, such as being good at school. He always struggled in school. Sitting for a long time, needing to listen to someone talk for 45 minutes, school just never agreed with him. Thank god he had hockey. That he is good at. His view of autism before all of this was most peoples’: white, straight, cisgender male who is antisocial and very smart. But after exploring the entire spectrum, he began to connect with the diagnosis.

Finally, at 21, he got the diagnosis. It was 8 hours of sitting in a room and being asked to show how he does normal activities like brushing his teeth, taking tests, and describing things he liked. Two weeks later, he got his evaluation back. He was autistic. Different from two years ago when the suggestion came up, he and his family were not surprised.

Shane told Ilya he was autistic, just in passing. He didn’t wanna make this a big deal, because it wasn’t. Ilya wasn’t surprised at all, Shane literally folded his clothes before sex, and he always needed clarification when Ilya was being sarcastic or making a joke. But the information that he has autism? It just locked any of his questions in. He promised himself to always be a support person for Shane. (Not that he wasn’t one before, but he felt a little more protective of Shane after hearing this.)

With a new diagnosis comes new information. Every day. So even now, at 34, he still finds new symptoms he didn’t know about before. Throughout the years he recognized his autistic traits and ways to cope.

One characteristic he can't seem to bring himself to stop masking is his oral stim. He loved having something in his mouth. Sexually, yes, but from day to day it benefitted him. He never really knew why, but that it felt good and it calmed him down. His oral stimming ranged from eating certain foods for the texture to biting his fingers when he was anxious. To Shane, though, it was so embarrassing. What, was he a baby? Who needs shit in their mouth after 3 years old? (Mind you, he only thought this when it came to him. Anyone else? What the hell, sure, cope as you please. But him? For some reason he held himself to different standards).

When he learned about stimming and that it can range from repeating words or phrases to listening to the same song over and over, he knew he was going to keep the… mouth thing… a secret. He can barely say the word without wanting to die.

Ilya knew from the beginning. The first time they hooked up, Shane made it abundantly clear he wanted something in his mouth. And Ilya loved it. He thought it was so hot. For a while, he thought it was purely a sexual thing, something to make Ilya want him more. But over time he noticed that was not the case. Shane always wanted a straw in his drink, he was constantly biting his lip, or he had a hoodie string in his mouth. Ilya didn’t think anything of it. But when it was confirmed that his husband was self soothing, he definitely wasn’t shocked. He knows Shane Hollander like the back of his hand. You cannot hide anything from that man. He never brought it up though, he trusted Shane to take care of himself.

The first time it was ever mentioned, Shane was anxious about trying a new food. So, out of habit, he started biting his fingernails. Something to distract him and calm his nerves. Ilya came back from the shower, started making his food, when he got a good look at Shane. Shane is not good at hiding his anxiety, so it was obvious he was uneasy. But he was biting his nails. Without thinking, Ilya said, “That’s not good for your teeth.” Shane got pulled out of his spiral. “What?” he asked. He wasn’t sure what his husband was referring to. “Your hands. Biting them can’t be good for your teeth.” Shane immediately flushed. He took his fingers out of his mouth. “Oh. Yeah.” He avoided eye contact. “Sorry.” He said it so quietly, voice wobbling a little. Ilya shook his head. “No. You have no reason to be sorry. I’m not mad.” Shane knew he couldn’t apologize again, as this would just become a back and forth of sorry’s and stop’s. He just said, “Okay.” Ilya kissed Shane on the cheek and sat next to him to eat.

Ilya noticed this more as time passed, but chose not to say anything since it obviously made Shane on edge. And that was the last thing he wanted to do.

The next time, they were having their “lay in bed and watch tiktoks next to each other” time. Shane looked up at Ilya, was about to say something, then Ilya said, “You have blood on your teeth.” He reached out to Shane’s mouth, ready to look for what was wrong. But before he could, Shane put a finger on his teeth to check. He was bleeding.

“Shit.” He went to the bathroom to inspect. Ilya was understandably nervous, so he went with him. Once he got to the bathroom, he tilted Shane’s chin up with his pointer finger and his thumb. “Let me see.” That was not a question, and Shane knew that. He also knew why he was bleeding. His mind raced for reasons his mouth could be bleeding. Ilya saw the cut on his lip and got toilet paper to try to stop the bleeding.

After a few beats of silence, Ilya spoke. “What happened?” It was not confrontational, but soft and laced with concern. Shane had this compulsion to be completely honest with Ilya all the time, so he was honest. “I was biting my lip and I guess I went too deep.” He kept it short and to the point, hoping his husband wouldn’t push him further. But of course, he knew better. Ilya was worried. “You need to be careful, I don’t want you hurting yourself.” Ilya takes a breath. “Were you anxious? Why were you biting your lip?” Shane burned up at the confrontation. “I don’t know. I’m not anxious, I just bite my cheek and nails. It keeps me busy.” After a few seconds, he goes to apologize, but Ilya stops him. “No, don’t apologize.” He finishes blotting the area and confirms it's not still bleeding. He lets go and gently kisses Shane.

“Just…” He takes a second before continuing. He has a feeling this is a sore subject for Shane, based on his demeanor. ”Is there an alternative? I feel like these options hurt you in one way or another.” And Shane, as hyper aware of himself as he was, knew the answer. He knew that gum didn’t work for him and that sometimes he needed the pain to ground him. Chewlery was the only option. He broke eye contact again as he spoke. “Yeah. I’ve tried stuff like gum, and I can’t eat all the time.” He took a breath. “There's something called chewlery. It's a necklace with something to bite down on as the…” He wanted to find an easier word for pendant. One Ilya would understand. “The charm.” He points to Ilya’s necklace.

Contrary to what his anxiety made up, Ilya was not mad. If anything, he looked… fond? Ilya’s hand goes to cup his cheek. “Would that help you? He again notices Shane’s embarrassment and adds, “Be honest.” Shane nods, he wants this conversation to end so bad. Kill him now. Ilya shrugs his shoulders like they’re deciding what to eat for dinner. Like Shane didn’t just open the fuck up to his husband. “Okay. So we get it. You use it. No more hurt.” Shane so badly wants to decline. But part of him knows Ilya won’t drop this, and that ultimately, this is going to benefit him. He wants to challenge his internalized shame.

He locks eyes with Ilya. “Okay. We can look.” Ilya smiles and kisses him. Weirdly, Shane doesn’t feel as uncomfortable as he thought he would. Ilya’s sureness assures him that everything is okay and that this isn’t weird. Which doesn’t make sense when you think about it. Ilya has seen Shane's bare hole. And Shane is sitting here worrying about something in his mouth.

Soon after his confession, they had time to look around for chewelery that would suit Shane. They both decided to find something subtle, especially if he was going to wear it out of the house, when he was ready. After some looking, they landed on some. Shane was curled into Ilya’s side as Ilya scrolled through the options on his phone.

“I screenshotted three options. But if you don’t like them, we can always look for more. This is very common.” As expected, Shane was so humiliated. A little less than before, as Ilya’s confidence affirmed to him that this isn’t as stupid as he thought. Still, he was a little embarrassed. His ego said no to all three options. But the rational side of him tried to remind himself that Ilya was just trying to help, and this is going to benefit him in the long run. In an attempt to bite back his ego, he said, “I like the dog tag one.” Ilya put a hand in his hair to play with it, seemingly as a reward for being honest with him and not resisting help. He adds it to the cart. “Okay, good. I’m proud of you.” Shane made a noise of agreement so Ilya knew he was listening.

Two days later, the package came. Ilya opened it and put it aside until they needed it. Shane, on the other hand, thought that if he didn’t acknowledge its presence, it would go away and Ilya would forget. Unsurprisingly, his method didn’t work.

He was on the couch scrolling Instagram when he got an arm around him. “Hey.” A soft voice was next to him. “Mmm” Shane said. He was focused on reels. Ilya rubbed his arm to calm him down before the anxiety even started.

“I have something better than your string.” Shane immediately spit it out. He didn’t even realize he had something in his mouth. He didn’t have time to respond, because Ilya stood up to go get something. Shane knew exactly what it was. So Ilya didn’t forget.

After some time, Ilya came back with something in his hand. Shane immediately looked away from it as if it would blow up if you looked at it. Ilya sat back down and put it in Shane’s lap. It was exactly what he saw on the phone. He stared at it for a while. “You should try it,” Ilya began. “It’s much better than your fingers or lips. It’s also just… cleaner.” He pulled Shane back in, petting his head in an attempt to soothe. Shane finally touched it. He examined it. He rubbed his fingers on it, admiring the texture. Then he tried it.

Sadly, he liked it. He tucked himself back into Ilya’s side to seek comfort and at the same time hide. He still hated this. Opposed to what his anxiety made him believe, Ilya did not make fun of him. He just held him and returned to rubbing his arm. After a few beats of silence, Ilya spoke up. “Yeah?” Shane just nodded and made a noise of approval. “I hate to admit it, but yeah.” Letting out a small laugh in hopes to brighten the mood (and distract him from his own worries). Ilya didn’t say anything, just smiled and went back to what they were doing previously.

cw: depression. that's it. that is the entire story. nothing graphic, just lots of comfort.

summary: you wake up having a bad mental health day, sam and dean are there to take care of you

an: wowww okay long time no see! i love a good hurt/comfort. as you guys know. things have been so busy lately, but in the new year things will die down and i'll be able to write more. ty for sticking w me :) u guys interacting makes me entire day ily

waking up, i feel like i'm being crushed by a thousand bricks. i can't get up. i sigh. i have accepted it's one of my bad days ™ . i close my eyes immediately in hopes of going back to sleep.

truthfully, i'm not tired. i'm wide awake. i bury myself in my comforter more. bring my stuffed animal to my face so i can feel their fur against my lips. i wish i could skip today.

i don't know what time it is, but after a while i hear a knock on my door. it's sam. (i know because he knocks lighter than dean. dean also barges in most of the time) i want to answer, but nothing comes out.

"hey, you up?" i hear my door creak open.

sam and dean have seen many bad days ™ , so they know how they start. sometimes, they can catch one coming before even i can. 

i just stare at the window. the closed window. i wonder if its sunny out. i assume sam sees my eyes open, because he keeps talking to me.

"hey." his voice softens. i feel the other side of my bed drop. "bad day?"

i can feel the tears start to form in my eyes. i nod, hoping he understands that talking isn't what i want to do at the moment.

"okay, that's okay." i can feel his worrying eyes on me. he looks like a sad puppy when he's worried. "do you need anything right now?"

i shake my head. i don't know anything right now. sam sighs. "okay. i'll go make you breakfast." he kisses my head.

breakfast is never a question on bad days. eating in general isn't a question. even if i have no appetite, dean and sam make sure i eat at least one meal and i drink a lot of water. some days these rules make me upset, but i know it's the right thing to do.

i go to grab my phone. my body hurts. where the fuck- oh. okay. it was underneath me. i check the time. 12:56pm. have i mentioned i hate waking up late? i am a morning person through and through. i feel so lazy when i wake up in the afternoon.

i sigh and turn off my phone in frustration. she's going back into the depths of my bed.

i hear a small knock. it's sam.

"hey." i hear him shuffle over to my side of the bed. he has to bend his knees a bit to get to my height. "made your favorite." i look at my plate with a small smile. they really are so sweet to me. tears form in my eyes (again) but before i can start crying, sam speaks up. "dean is making your coffee. a big one today. that cool?"

i look up at him. he still looks so concerned. i nod. i keep the smile on my face. i need him to relax. he grabs my remote. 

he loads up the office. he doesn't need to ask, they know my comfort shows by heart. once it's on, he turns to me.

"okay. food, water, coffee is coming, and the office. anything else i can do?" i start to open my mouth but he cuts me off. "oh! medicine. i'll get that." he does a little power walk out of my room.

time is still blurry, but it felt like seconds until dean came with my coffee. 

"i have your coffeeeee." he drags the last word out and shakes my coffee like i'm a dog and the coffee is my toy. incredibly accurate. he sits infront of where i'm sitting. "okay, how did i do?" he shoves the coffee into my hand. i take a sip, and dramatically smack my lips. 

"hmmm…" i (jokingly) ponder on his question. "it's a 10 out of 10. as per usual." now a real smile comes on my face.

"perfect! starbucks is missing out on me." then sam comes back.

"i have your meds." i look at him and say, "thank you, both of you." 

they both get up and start to leave. "wait." i say quietly. they both turn around (very urgently, may i add.) "stay?" my voice is so small. i hate asking for things.