Hospital Trip

                                    

                                          
Haha, you get angsty Ranboo and he be real despresso and hurty
                          
TW: Mentions of self-harm/act of self-harm, depictions/reference of s#icide, kn*fe/bl*de, hospitals(idk if this is an actual tw, but I want you guys to be safe if it makes you uncomfortable). Starts at beginning of chapter and will end at notice.
                          
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They woke up to their phone vibrating on their desk violently. They reached for their phone with their eyes still closed but knocked it down onto the ground. They cursed, opened their eyes, and reached down to where the device fell and turned it on silent.
                          
Ranboo turned in his bed. Why did today feel so different than the other days? Maybe because he found his once seperated brothers? Was it because of the cats? Maybe Tommy and Tubbo? No, it couldn't be those reasons. Right?
                          
Ranboo lay in his bed with a headache. He tried thinking of reasons why today felt so shitty compared to yesterday or the day before, but he couldn't think of anything. Nothing at all. His hands laid on his stomach. Rising and falling as he breathed. What if he didn't breathe? No. Don't think of that. His fingers traces the scars that littered his wrist and arms. White lines against pale skin.
                          
They thought that the scars were fading and was happy that they were. But, something in the back of their head hated it. There needs to be more-Stop. No. These thoughts don't need to exist. There doesn't need to be more scars. But there does.
                          
Ranboo sat up and looked towarss their desk. They pushed the blanket off of them and looked at the clock on their wall. 4:13. No one would be up for a few hours. The people in the house won't find out of they added a few scars, right? 
                          
He dug through one of the drawers in his desk and found a smaller version of a box cutter. Shiny and brand new. He pushedd it open, his reflection on the blade. His face held an expression that shown that he felt like everything wasn't worth it anymore. Maybe that was true. Maybe it wasn't.
                          
He raised the blade to his wrist and pressed against it lightly. When was the last time he did this? He pressed harder and a numbing feeling went through his arm instead of pain. Why was his body so used to this again? He pressed into his skin and felt the warm red liquid run down his arm and onto the ground.
                          
One after another, more and more blood dripped and dropped onto the carpet. Their skin was stained red and new marks littered both of their arms. The blade was red as well from the crimson. They took a deep breath and looked at the time. Why was everything getting dizzy? 7:04. Hm. Everyone would be up by now. Someone would check up on then in a bit. 
                          
They went to stand but immediately fell to the ground. Their legs felt numb. They felt tired. Everything was spinning. Wht was the world spinning again? They felt light headed. Their eyes felt heavy and started to close. They heard knocking but it was muffled. More and more knocking and soon the door was thrown open woth multiple voices and footsteps.
                          
"Ranboo! Ranboo, wake up! Please!" They heard their dad. Dad...which one was it? Everything then went dark.
                          
Everything is white. Why? Why is there a beeping noise next to him? He felt warm. Uncomfortably warm. He tried moving his arm but something being tugged along with it. Everything was blurry without his glasses. Where were they? 
                          
He raised his arm and saw the iv drip connected to the divit of his arm. His eyebrows furrowed. He looked around and saw screens and chairs next to the bed he laid on. He sat up, careful of the cords he was connected to, and looked towards the door. He heard talking if he payed close enough attention.
                          
They looked to their wrists, both covered and wrapped in bandages. They frowned. Those were probably the reason they were here in the first place. They leaned back against the wall and had their arms next to them. They forgot about how much they hate hospitals.