TRIGGER IMAGINE.

You don't know why you're so surprised. He's done it before, more times than you cared to count. He'll probably do it again.
"Oh, hey babe." They were lying in the bed, not even bothering to cover themselves. "I thought you were coming home late today?" He doesn't even look apologetic for what he's done.
You nodded. "I wanted to surprise you. But it looks like you had other plans."
He sighed. "Look y/n. We both know this - us - isn't working out. I thin-"
You cut him and his soppy monologue off as you marched out of your apartment. Your apartment. He hadn't even bothered to use his own bed. The familiar numbness set in as you walked to your car and began driving to the same place you always went. Within ten minutes you were there; the little cottage by the bridge. You stayed in the car since it was freezing out. The tears came soon after parking up. You didn't know why you were so upset because you knew he was a slimeball. It still hurt.
Even your friends had deserted you; your best friend, Suga, had decided to distance himself from you because he couldn't stand to see you hurt.
But you had one little friend - one reliable friend that comes in the shape of a cool, little blade. It was in the car compartment, the same place it always was, and this time, there was no Suga to stop you.
You pulled it out and without giving it a seconds thought, dashed the blade over your skin and relishing the familiar sting that came with the crimson streams of blood. Reality smacks you in the face as you realise what you've done and the tears start to fall again.
Then it hit you. Where would you go? You had no place to go, nowhere to clean yourself up or sleep.
Then an idea surfaced. You wiped your tears and started driving, not having to think about the path as it was already engraved in your memory.
-
He answers the door and all it takes is for you to hold up your wrists which were stained in your blood.
He leads you to the bathroom and opens a first aid kit, not saying a single word the whole time. He doesn't question why. It's obvious. He glances cooly at you as he swabs your wrist.
You avoid his gaze, but you feel his eyes boring into you.
"Y/n. He is not worth it." He knew what you were like; he knew how to deal with you. He helped you.
"Suga." Your voice came out a raspy whisper, barely audible, but, of course, Suga heard.
He put the bandage down and lifted your head ever so slightly. 
"What I want to know is why. Why do you keep going back to him when you know he'll hurt you again?"
Good question.
"Because... I would rather be with him than be by myself." After all, who would rather be alone?
Suga let out a frustrated groan, throwing his hands up simultaneously. "But y/n, there are much better guys than him!"
"None of them want me."
He looked at you and tilted his head.
"I do." You looked at him until a wry chuckle escaped your mouth.
"Why?"
He looked at your wrist and back to your blotchy face.
"I think I can make you happier than he ever did. And I can protect you."
He took your hand and raised it to his lips. "Y/n, please?" Now it was his voice that was barely audible.
You scanned the bloodied swab and your wrist and your mind suddenly became less clouded.
You nodded. Time to put the past behind you and move onto something better.