#shout out for all sad singles out there. hang in there girlies (gender neutral)

[inverswayart]

lovers amidst blight

[lowlywriter]

Safety

PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS! Content may be triggering to some readers!

I’m sad, so I wrote sad. Fluffy ending because I wanted to cheer myself up. Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy. My asks and stuff are all open (I think? Still figuring Tumblr out) and I’m always looking for new things to write. Colby’s a cute little bean in this- all the warnings are for the boyfriend at the beginning of the story.

Also, I wrote this one gender neutral- or, well I tried. Please don’t hesitate to tell me if there are pronouns anywhere I missed when I scanned over the final product. I’m new to this topic, since we just went over unhealthy relationships in one of my classes.

Warnings: abuse, emotional abuse, unhealthy relationships, inner turmoil, swearing, controlling partner

Rating: Mature?

Word Count: 4,262

Colby is NOT the boyfriend in the beginning of the story.

“You belong to me.” his voice growled. It wasn’t loud; no, that would raise suspicion among the group of his friends. His words just loud enough for the words to travel to your ears, making his message loud and clear.  

You hadn’t done much to warrant such a tone; merely running to the bar to get a couple drinks for him and his friends. It wasn’t your fault the bartender starting hitting on you. You’d been uncomfortable with it- certainly not interested in his attempts.  

After all, he had been the one to send you to collect shots for the table. You had been hesitant. You were not twenty-one, and it was illegal to be in the club. But the stern look on his face had you standing and excusing yourself, smiling easily at everyone.

It didn’t matter to your boyfriend though. It never did.

The bartender thankfully had been more interested in you then the age on your driver’s license. But he was still making passes at you. It was out of your control. He had what you needed.  

You couldn’t help but tap your fingers on the glossy bar counter, anxiously chancing quick looks over your shoulder at the cheerful table your peers- all excited and a little too drunk to remember anything the next morning. You had seen your boyfriend’s eyes on you from the table, the subtle glint of anger dilating his eyes that you knew so well.  

Nothing good could come from this. You’d taken too long. His intentions were clear, and you cowered slightly into the corner of the bar as he strided towards you, eyes dancing from you to the bartender who grinned at him.  

“I think they’ve had enough,” he played off, smile bright- making it out to seem you’d been ordering all six shots for yourself. You hadn’t even intended to have one. You’d had a frilly girly drink he’d made fun of you for, but you weren’t one for alcohol, not to mention the fact that he’d already practically force fed you a shot of tequila.  

“Oh, man, I’m sorry. I didn’t know they were taken. Sorry, bro.” The bartender apologized as your boyfriend wrapped his arm around your shoulder, a little too tight to be considered a romantic gesture. He was angry.  

You pleaded silently to the bartender, praying he’d see your face- know you were in danger- but the idiot simply nodded his head towards your boyfriend and turned to assist someone else at the bar.  

“How’s about you and I go have a little talk in the bathroom?” He gritted through his teeth, voice dangerously low as he forced you towards the restrooms by a strong grip around you.  

He was a regular at this specific bar, and by default- you were now as well. The hallway was small, and dark. The lightbulb in the small corridor was burnt out, and for as long as you’d been coming- there hadn’t been any light. The men’s and women’s rooms were side by side, each smelling rancid and looking grimy and worn.  

When the both of you were enveloped in the daunting darkness, he spun you around, pinning you against the wall. You knew better then you scream, yell or protest. A subtle pain ignited in your spine as bone crashed against wooden beams in the drywall.  

You remained neutral, as anything else would’ve made things worse for you.  

“What the fuck were you doing flirting with that asshole?” He growled in your face, practically nose to nose with you.

“I w-wasn’t,” you tried, only to be pushed further up the wall, feet inches off the floor, being supported by nothing but his grip around your neck. Your lungs constricted at the lack of air, legs kicking slightly to try and ground yourself.

“Don’t fucking lie to me, I watched you flirt with him with my own two eyes, Slut,” said eyes were now red with anger. He definitely had had a little too much to drink- just like his whole party of friends sitting just a couple feet away, completely oblivious. He was being more violent than usual, more handsy and aggressive. He’d never been this forceful.  

Your feet hit the ground as his hands left your throat, and your body threatened to slide down the wall to the floor, but his grip was soon replaced, gripping your arm with bruising strength. His movements were quick, and then you felt pain blossom in your face. He’d slapped you, or maybe punched? It all felt the same at this point.  

The sting was intense, blurring your vision momentarily.  

He spouted slurs and threats at you, but the only thing you could hear was the sound of your own sped up heartbeat. Your fight-or-flight instincts kicking in. You involuntarily pushed him away; conscious mind struggling to keep up.  

He wasn’t expecting it, clearly, so he stumbled back, taking a second to regain his balance in his drunken state. You’d taken that as your chance. The chance to get away. The chance of freedom.  

You moved quickly, feet working faster than your brain could comprehend.  

He was following you; you knew it. His feet slapping loudly off the floors. He wasn’t shouting slurs, instead pleading, making it out that you were the bad guy. That you were leaving.

Outside the door, he finally spoke up. Voice venomous, as he growled. The streets were empty, and everyone inside remained inside, clearly not too interested in your fight. A streetlight flickered, and his face was stony with anger.  

“If you walk away now, we’re fucking over.” You paused your movements, not turning to face him, but showing you were listening, “I won’t care for your slutty ass anymore. And remember bitch, no one else will want you. I’m doing you a favor by staying with you- and you go and do this shit.”  

You were at a safe distance. He would have to sprint to make it too you, and both of you knew that he would fall flat on his face if he attempted. His words were sinking in. This was it. You’d finally escaped. He was giving you the final ultimatum. Stay and be with him- have everything return to normal, or leave, and forget it all- be safe, but alone.  

“Go to hell,” you uttered, turning swiftly and sprinting down the road. Tears sprung in your eyes as you jogged, listening to his raged shouts grow softer with the distance you were putting between the two of you.

When you finally felt that you were at a safe distance, you slid down the wall, drawing your knees to your chest. You had to reevaluate everything. The past year of your life with him. You thought he had loved you, but... this wasn’t love. He’d taken it too far. You let it go too far.

Everyone had warned you about him. About his aggressive will to protect you... protect you from your friends and family. They’d been right. All your girlfriends who told you to get out while you could, told you that their boyfriends never did anything like he did.

And Colby- Colby hadn’t liked him from the start. He didn’t like Colby either. Colby warned you. He frowned whenever you said his name, glared when you recalled anything your boyfriend did. He was trying to help. Telling you how it looked from the outsider’s point of view...  

Colby had been the first your boyfriend cut off. ‘I just don’t like the way he looks at you, you’re mine, babe’ he had said, eyes full of love and adoration. You’d stupidly let him win. You started cutting Colby out. He was your best friend, and you let this man- your boyfriend- just cut him out of your life.  

It had been weeks since you’d talked to Colby. It was your fault. He had tried, tried so hard to stay in contact. He sent texts, and called- sent you silly little snapchats and invited you out all the time... but you slowly stopped responding, or replying, or joining him when he wanted to hang out.  

You cut out the whole trap house- each of those boys had been so nice to you, and the girls too. They’d been like family, and you let your boyfriend- ex boyfriend, tear everything to pieces.  

You doubted he’d even be your friend anymore. You wouldn’t want to be your friend after what you’d done to him. Colby had been trying to help- but you just pushed him away. You, single handedly, cut all the ties you had with people- for the man who was abusing you.  

You let out a quiet sob-laugh, you weren’t sure which it was. It wasn’t funny- not in the slightest, but you were fed up with yourself. How could you let him isolate you from everyone? Even your parents you hadn’t spoken to in months.  

You patted your pockets, in search for your cell phone. There had to be someone in your phone you could call to come pick you up. They couldn’t all hate you, right?

You searched your pockets, patting down your legs before letting out a cry of frustration. It was gone. You must’ve dropped it somewhere in the rush of getting out.  

You were stranded. It was late, you had no lose change for the payphones, and you were not stupid enough to go back to the bar to call someone.  

With a heavy heart, you pulled yourself up and started in the direction of a certain mansion that was closest to you. You didn’t have very high hopes, maybe they’d let you borrow a phone to call your parents or something before kicking you off the property. After cutting them out, there weren’t many other scenarios that could happen.  

The walk was long. Your back still kind of hurt, but your face was mostly numb. It was very late when you finally arrived at the trap house. If you had to guess, about twelve or something. You'd left the bar around nine, and it felt like you’d been walking for years. It was dark, the streetlights not doing much to help anything.

The gate was shut, but not locked, so you pushed up the latch and slowly walked in, closing it behind yourself in the process.  

There was still lights on in mansion- which was a good thing. Someone had to be awake.  

You trailed slowly to the large double doors, taking note of whose cars were parked out front. Colby, Sam, and Corey.  

You lifted a hand to knock on the door. It was a quiet knock, since something in the back of your mind didn’t actually want anyone to answer- but seconds later the clicking of dog claws and loud protective barks echoed in the house.  

“Sh, Navi, Buddy,” a voice hushed. Then the door clicked open. Sam peeked through the small gap between the door and doorframe, clearly cautious since they weren’t actually expecting any guests, and it was pretty late.  

“Y/N?” He questioned in surprise, eyeing you up and down.

“Uh, yea...” you replied quietly, scuffing your foot against the concrete anxiously. “Can I, uh, use your phone?”  

Sam stared for a second, deeming you no threat before pushing the door open the rest of the way. The light from the hallway lit up the front yard. Sam gasped quietly, taking a step towards you slowly. You knew you probably didn’t look too great.  

“Y/N, what happened?” his voice was quiet- almost caring. You didn’t respond, just looked down in guilt. “Here,” Sam continued after a second, walking towards you and placing a gentle hand on your back, “come inside.”

You trusted Sam. You trusted everyone in the trap house. They’d never done you wrong.  

You let Sam lead you into the mansion, he being super gentle. He brought you into the living room, where Corey and Devyn were sitting curled up watching a movie on Netflix.

You sat down, lacking all emotion. Corey glanced towards you, stiffening when he eyed your appearance.  

“Y/N, are you alright?” his voice sounding appalled, and shocked. Devyn glanced up, gasping quietly when you caught her eye, pushing herself off of Corey to sit beside you.  

“Y/N... your neck...” she frowned, fingers hovering beside your neck. She didn’t touch, which you were grateful for. It was bound to be bruising by now. Flourishing into blacks, purples and ugly yellows.  

She pulled you into a hug- but you didn’t hug back. Not yet. It was still all sinking in. The hug was a nice touch, and you desperately needed one- but... you wanted comfort from someone else. Your mind was locked on Colby, despite the fact he probably hated you.  

You squeezed your eyes shut when thumps rumbled down the stairs- it was loud and scared you. You’d been in the silence of the night for so long, circling aimlessly in your own mind, and now suddenly there were people and noises coming at you left, right and center.  

Devyn pulled back, and you were wrapped in someone else’s arms just as fast as the first pair left. You instantly melted into the embrace, arms lifting to wrap around the person as you buried your nose in the soft fabric of his sweatshirt.  

Colby still smelt the same. An interesting mix of shampoo and deodorant. He had the most familiar scent too you. The smell of safety. Colby was safety.  

“Y/N... shh, what happened?” his voice was low, calm and collected- but you could tell he was scared. His body was shaking- almost as bad as yours, and his heart was faster than it usual was. You realized that you were crying, when you pulled back a little too look up- only to have a blurred vision of your best friend.  

His arms were tight around you- but you didn’t struggle. It wasn’t the same embrace as your boyfriend’s. Colby was radiating love and concern- he was radioactive with anger and control.

There were too many people around to talk about what had happened hours ago. You loved them all- but they weren’t Colby, and as of now, he was the only person you wanted to know what went down.  

You pulled away from him, arms wrapping around yourself in your best attempt to cover yourself from the harsh eyes of everyone. Sam was stood behind Colby, eyes sad. He must’ve gone upstairs to get Colby. You nodded his direction, smiling as best you could when he noticed you. He returned a sad smile; then, as if reading your mind, turned on his heels and left the room, muttering about editing a new video and facetiming Katrina before he went to bed.  

Devyn was next to pick up on the social ques. Yawning silently, and taking Corey’s hand. She mumbled about being tired, and wanting to finish the movie in their bed in case she fell asleep.  

Corey was hesitant, sending you concerned glances, before standing and following Devyn up the stairs.  

Then, it was just you and Colby. He looked shell-shocked; eyes focused on your neck. You watched his eyes trail you, scanning you for injuries.  

“Y/N, baby, what happened?” he questioned once more. You smiled lightly at the pet name; it was refreshing to hear it in such a sweet tone. He always called you cute names like that- only ever using your actual name when he was mad at you, or he was being serious about something.  

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you told him quickly. It was the first thing you spouted. And you were. You were so sorry. Sorry about how you treated him. How you just abandoned him. After all the years the two of you had been friends, you’d let that man get in between you and split you guys up. You were sorry for not listening to him, and basically the whole year since you met your ex. “I’m sorry...”

“No, no. Y/N, don’t be sorry... it’s okay. Everything is okay. You’re okay... Please, stop crying...” this only made you cry harder. He was being so nice to you. You abandoned him, and here he was comforting you.  

You lifted your hands up to cover your nose and mouth, shutting your eyes. Colby wrapped his arms around you once more, leading you back to the couch. He sat, pulling you down behind him.  

It was nice being in his lap. You’d always liked sitting in his lap. It’s just how your relationship worked. He had always been super good at calming you down, and this happened to be his number one tactic.  

“Y/N, I really need you to tell me what happened. You can’t just show up here after three weeks of no contact, completely banged up and scare the shit out of us all. What happened? Please, tell me...”

“I’m sorry for leaving you... Leaving you for him,” you gasped through the tears. You had to apologize.  

“It’s okay... I’m not mad. It’s fine. You’re here now. Please, what happened?”  

“We were at the bar,” you started, voice quiet as you played with a thread on your shirt. Colby’s hand was settled firmly on your back, slowly running the length of your spine. It was calming, and just sitting with Colby was soothing. “He, uh, he’s been more... aggressive lately...” You tried, trailing off. Colby was going to flip his shit.  

“He... Your boyfriend?” his voice turned stony, hand pausing on your back. His eyes were dark and his lip curling into a snarl, “that fucking asshole did this to you?”

You knew his anger wasn’t directed at you. You knew for certain; Colby had never done anything towards you in anger. But you couldn’t help but flinch away. It was too soon. Hours earlier this very situation had led to being strangled in the restroom hallway of a bar.  

“I’m sorry,” Colby whispered, anger wiping away, guilt quickly replacing it. “Sorry, babe, I know. Not the time to get mad. We need to worry about you, not that asshole.”

You didn’t reply, just curled closer into his sweater. He pulled you against him, and the two of you settled into silence. It was calming. You felt safe in the trap house. You knew all the guys would protect you in a heartbeat. And Colby would gladly get himself arrested defending you (as it had almost happened before).

Colby’s fingers ran through your hair, trailing his fingertips along your skull in a soothing motion. You closed your eyes, relaxing into him. You’d been so high strung for so long, and it was nice to just relax- and be in the arms of someone who you trusted wholeheartedly. You ducked your head under his chin, curling so your ear was pressed against his chest and your chin hidden in his sweater. He took the hint, resting his chin on top of your head.  

His hand fell from your hair to resume running lines up and down your back. He hit a particularly tender spot and you winced before you could think about what you were doing. His hand lifted instantly, and he pushed you away slightly to look at your face.

“I’m going to need you to be completely honest with me right now,” he started, voice quiet but serious. “Where did he hurt you? I need to know. I have to see if I should be taking you to the hospital.”

“He pushed me against the wall... and um, he lifted be by my neck... I- he, uh he also slapped me, or, uh or maybe he punched me? I’m not sure. It all happened so fast.”

Colby was silent for a long minute. His hand was settled on your waist, and his thumb was trailing up and down slowly. He was deep in thought, you could tell.  

“I want to look at everything, everything he did to you.” Colby told you, “somewhere where the light is good... Come, let’s go to the bathroom down here. The lighting is the best.”  

Together you and Colby stood up. His hand planted on your back, leading you slowly- just as Sam had done when you’d first arrived.  

The bathroom was super bright. You were momentarily blinded as Colby flicked the light on. You looked in the mirror. You couldn’t help but gape at yourself. You looked so broken. A bruise was forming on your cheek, and somehow your lip had been split. There was a trail of blood, and a smear on your chin. You glanced at you hand to see another smear, meaning at some point you must’ve wiped it away.  

Your neck was still fairly numb, but it was starting to hurt. There were dark oval shapes lining your neck- easily identified at finger marks from your ex’s strong grip. You hesitantly brought your hands to run along the shapes, wincing lightly.  

You stripped off your shirt, not caring that Colby was in the room. He’d seen it before- you guys were best friends after all. You turned, exposing your back to the mirror, then looking over your shoulder to see bruises on the parts you’d hit the hardest.  

“Babe, those look painful,” Colby frowned, rifling through a drawer and pulling out a bottle of ibuprofen. You downed the pills he offered dry, blinking as they passed down your throat.  

“It’s not as bad as I thought,” you told you best friend truthfully. And it wasn’t. It felt worse than it looked. You’d known you’d be bruised pretty heavily, but it was less then you assumed. Your back felt like is should be a solid strip of black and blue, but it was only in the most tender spots, which was a plus in your books.  

Colby looked like you’d just shot him or something, eyes wide and mouth gaping open.  

“Y/N, seriously? I’m sorry, but you look like you got hit by a bus. He did this to you. He fucked with the wrong person, let me tell you. I mean,” Colby paused, busying himself at the sink, “you’re bleeding still. You've got blood smears, and the bruising- oh god, the bruising- babe... please, tell me this isn’t actually happening.”

Colby turned to you, a wash cloth in his hand. He reached to wipe away the blood, his movements gentle. The cloth was warm, and felt heavenly on your skin. He dabbed at your split lip, his concentration focused on you. Finally, he reached down to take your hand, giving it the same treatment and wiping away the smear.  

When he was done, he dropped the cloth back into the sink, frowning at you.  

“There’s got to be something we can do for the bruising.” Colby mumbled to himself, lifting his hand to trail his fingers gently across your neck. It didn’t really bother you. You had no fear of Colby touching you.  

“Let’s bring you up to my room. You can just relax in the blankets and maybe the softness of the bed will ease the pain?” Colby suggested, leading you away without waiting for you to respond. You ascended the stairs together, Colby supporting you easily. You were still shirtless, but it didn’t really bother you. You had nothing to hide- everyone had already seen the worst of it anyways.  

He settled you in his bed, covering you with his blankets before kissing your head and telling you he’d return shortly. You heard him in Sam’s room. Heard him, and Sam conversing- worry clear in both voices. It didn’t bother you that he went to Sam- and was telling Sam everything. Sam was such a good friend, and he had been around longer then you.  

You let your eyes close, enjoying the warmth of the covers. Colby had been right that the bed would ease the pain. You barely felt anything as you lied in his pillows.  

“Hey, I’m back. Sam suggested using a cold compress. We don’t have those, so I got a bag of frozen carrots. I don’t think Devyn will mind. I can always replace them.” Colby explained. He sat on the edge of his bed, setting the bag down carefully on your neck so that the frozen vegetables were spread around in the bag.  

When he felt that it was properly placed, he pulled himself up to lay beside you. You shuffled over, wanting to be close to him. You sighed quietly, eyes shut and a small smile on your face. It was nice being here with him. He was taking such good care of you.  

“I’m sorry you had to go through this,” Colby whispered.  

“I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you...” you returned, then added, “and I’m sorry I let him cut you off. You’re my best friend- and I’ve been terrible to you...”

“It’s in the past,” Colby waved it off, giving you a small tired smile.  

“We should try and sleep now. I can only ward off the roommates for so long. I assured everyone that you were alright, but they’re gonna wanna check in tomorrow.” You laughed quietly, chest lighting up with warmth at the thought of all these people you wronged being worried and wanting to check up on you.  

“I don’t deserve you guys,” you mumbled sleepily, inching closer to curl into Colby.  

“You do,” he returned, wrapping around you and burying his nose in your hair. You fell asleep to Colby readjusting the carrots as he carded his fingers through your hair. It was the best you’d slept in months- even under the terrible circumstances.