#ohemgee they could be friends???? gasp

[themirrormarches]

Watch: A fic about August.

(tw for: mild self-harming, swearing, some blood.)

(also a quick heads-up, Greaves belongs to the lovely @chaotic-tired-bastard !)

It had been a particularly rough day for August. He was pretty used to being pushed around and hassled by his coworkers, but today it seemed harsher than normal. They didn't seem like they were joking. August was simply sitting on his bed, staring down at his shoes- which had a thin layer of green matter, grime, and oil on them. It started to feel like his skin was itching. Like there were bugs under his arms. "No, no, don't give into that temptation. It'll only make it worse," he muttered to himself. And now his face itched. It got worse. It started to burn. But he ignored it.

For a few minutes, at least.

Until he rolled his right sleeve up and absently dragged his left fingernails over his arm. And then he did it again. And again. And again. He didn't stop. He tried so hard, but he couldn't. It felt nice to get the bugs out from underneath his arms. He barely even cared that he was starting to slowly bleed from his arm. It didn't matter. He was free from the itching feeling.

And he didn't care that a pair of worried eyes had been watching him do it.

It was only when his eyes drifted towards the open door when he saw a pair of glowing green eyes looming over him. Staring right at him. "Oh, it's just Greaves. Phew," he thought. He turned his head to look up at him, and the automaton looked.. both concerned and slightly disgusted. "The hell you doin'?" He questioned worriedly. August paused. He didn't know if he should respond or not. "What? My arm itched. It's nothing serious," he answered nonchalantly. Greaves furrowed his brow. "... nothing serious. You're bleeding," he pointed out to him, gesturing at his still-slowly-bleeding arm.

"And? I usually scratch at myself when I'm stressed or upset. You know, whenever the bugs are under my skin and I gotta get them out-" "You're making it sound like a fucking walk in the park. Quit hurting yourself," the robot chided, making his way towards August. He pulled his hand away from his arm as gently as he could. This made him flinch and visibly panic. "Wh-What are you doing?! Stop!!" August exclaimed. "You gotta be kidding me. I'm trying to stop you from hurtin' yourself, and you act like I'm takin' away all your money," the robot groaned.

August went quiet. The.. the tone of Greaves's voice scared him. It brought back awful memories. "I'm.. sorry, Greaves. I... I don't know what I'm doing," he sighed, putting his head into his gloved hands. "I've noticed," Greaves responded. "Just.. just please, don't tell anybody what you saw me doing. I'll-" "Don't worry. I have better things to do than goin' around and spillin' secrets. If you want someone to do that, get Locksmith," he grumbled. "I'm not gonna bother you anymore," he added. He left. And it was quiet.

Maybe it was good to have someone watching over him?