Hels angst? Hels angst.

WARNINGS- SELF-HARM AND BULLYING. THIS IS A SELF-HARM ONESHOT, DO NOT PROCEED IF THAT DOESN'T APPEAL TO YOU.

also this is like a wels-hels backstory thing and I might write more with this settig-concept :D

WC: ~1500

Enjoy!

Hels swung his sword at the dummy, trying to pull off one of the maneuvers that he'd read about in the textbook. It involved striking, moving back, blocking, and striking from another angle.

And it should've been easy.

Hels gritted his teeth, trying again, but then ending up tripping, which just fueled his fury.

"Stupid- stupid-" Hels hissed under his breath. He tried again, but instead of striking on the second time where the dummy's heart should've been, he hit the neck.

Hels dropped his sword, and in a sudden and impulsive movement, punched his own arm, his eyes widening as the pain shot through him like electricity.

A sense of relief followed the burst, and Hels felt like his mind had... cleared.

Slowly, Hels picked up his sword again, staring at his reflection in the polished metal.

If I fail again, then I'm a fool, Hels told himself, his fiery eyes narrowing. If I fail again, then I haven't been trying hard enough.

And that time, Hels tried again, and he scored the hit.

Perfectly.

Hels glanced at the arm he had punched, a grin on his face.

I think that I might just have figured something out.

"Oh, look who's coming in!!"

Hels lifted his head, narrowing his eyes in the direction of the mocking voice. It was one of the other students, surrounded by a group of equally annoying cronies.

Wels slipped his hand into Hels's, keeping him grounded.

That didn't last for long, though, as the kid shoved his way over to them.

"The hybrids here think that they're just as good as the rest of us!" his voice was loud, gloating.

Being part-Overworldian, which Hels and Wels were, wasn't taken well in the Nether.

"They think that they're just as good as us," the kid repeated, leaning closer to smirk in Hels's face. He was arrogant, cocky, and everything that a knight shouldn't be.

And Hels couldn't stand him.

In a swift movement, Hels kicked his legs, knocking the floor out beneath him. The boy fell back, and before he fell, Hels grabbed the collar of the shirt he wore under his armor and held him there.

"Actually," Hels's voice was low, dangerous. "I don't think we're as good as you. We're better than you ever will be."

"Hels," Wels put a hand on his shoulder. "Let him go, he isn't worth our time."

"Backing down from a fight, coward?" the boy spat out the last word.

That was it.

Hels delivered a punch straight into the smug expression on his face, drawing a yelp. He dropped the boy on the ground.

"Never," Hels hissed. "And I mean never, call my brother a coward again."

And with that, he stormed off, leaving the kid behind.

No one saw the way he dug his nails into his arm, no one needed to know how furious he was.

There's no one around to hurt... so I hurt myself.

Hels glanced at the intents in his skin. Does this even count as hurting myself?

Nah.

Suddenly, he was crushed by the weight of a hug.

"You," Wels said. "Are an idiot."

"Wow, okay," Hels joked. "I see how it is."

"I can't believe you attacked him," Wels sighed. "You know he'll remember that forever, right?"

"Then let him remember and weep," Hels spat. "Besides, it's not like I'll get in trouble or anything. People do a lot worse all the time. It's part of the training." Wels nodded, sighing again.

Calling this place a 'school' was a stretch.

Hels looked around, seeing kids that couldn't be older than ten practically strangling each other.

Yeah... 'school' is definitely a stretch.

Hels thought he was smart.

Whenever, during training, he needed an extra boost, he'd deliver a blow to himself.

Concentration not staying in place during the duels? A punch would fix it.

Couldn't focus on the lesson? Digging his nails into an arm or leg would snap him back.

It worked, but only for so long.

Soon enough, it dried away, leaving Hels unfocused and derailed.

He fought against another student he was pitted against, the goal of the match was to force the opponent to give up their weapon. However, with each strike, Hels felt himself grow weary.

One of these days again?? Hels thought furiously.

Hels pulled a risky move, exposing himself for a moment to trip up his opponent, having them fall to the ground, their sword tumbling out of their hand. In the first week, he'd help them up after falling, but getting punished for kindness had beaten that habit out of him.

Now, he left them there, shaking his head to try and clear the clouds that mugged up his thoughts. He felt exhausted, despite having not done anything.

Hels stared at the blade of his sword, considering for a second.

Before he could ponder it any longer, Hels lifted up the blade and sliced a mark on his arm.

And it burned.

In the best way possible.

This is good, Hels told himself, grinning as he was dealt another oppenment. Too good. Overpowered, really.

He beat them with ease, and a hand went to the cut on his arm.

It doesn't count as hurting myself, he reminded himself. It's for my own sake, really.

It's not self-harm.

It's not.

Hels stared at his left arm.

Bruises.

Scars.

One scab, from that morning.

None of them had been dealt by someone else.

"For the best," Hels whispered, a reminder to himself. "No one has to know. It's helping me, I'm doing better."

He didn't feel like he was doing better.

He felt like he wanted to cry.

No, Hels thought firmly. I am a knight. I do not need to cry.

And I certainly don't want to.

But things never go as planned, and it wasn't long before Hels felt himself holding back tears. It all just came at once, so sudden, an overpowering emotion that destroyed his dam of cold aggression.

Hels pressed his lips together and glanced at Wels, who was sleeping a small distance away. His brother didn't respond, and Hels assumed he was in the clear.

"Brave 'till the end," Hels murmured, watching Wels's sleeping form. "Brave, Wels."

"Brave 'till the end," Wels had told him one night, long ago. The first week of their twisted 'school'.

He held his fist out, like a pact.

Hels met it with his own.

"Brave 'till the end."

"Hels," Wels's voice was cold.

"Sounds like I'm in trouble," Hels remarked, turning around to face Wels.

His sarcastic comment died on his tongue when he saw the tears in Wels's eyes.

Wels grabbed Hels's left arm,

And rolled up the sleeve.

Wels stared at the marks there, and the expression on his face created a mass of guilt in Hels.

Wels didn't say anything, just clutched his arm and shook, perhaps in tears or in anger, Hels didn't know.

"I- uh-" Hels mumbled, trying to think of something to say.

"Why," Wels's voice cracked as he spoke. "Why- why would you do this?"

He sounded so, so sad, it nearly tore Hels apart.

"I- well- I'm not really doing anything wrong," Hels found himself saying.

"You... what?" Wels stared at him, his eyes a mix of fury, disbelief and so much sadness.

"I don't understand why you're so sad," Hels continued, running a hand through Wels's hair. "There's nothing wrong, really. Don't worry about it."

"You're hurting yourself," Wels cried. "You're cutting yourself with your own blade!!"

"I... I mean, it helps me in combat," Hels offered. "It helps me focus."

"I- you-" Wels sputtered. He dropped Hels's arm.

Then wrapped his arms around him, crushing him.

Wels was shaking, not quite crying, just shaking. Hels awkwardly hugged him back, rubbing his back.

"Promise me," Wels's voice shook. "That you'll never do this again."

"I... I can't promise that," Hels mumbled. "It's... it's helpful, Wels-"

"No, it's not," Wels whispered. "It's controlling you."

"It's a personal decision, not a demon," Hels said dryly.

"It can be both," Wels murmured. "Please. Promise me you'll stop hurting yourself."

"I... I promise."

He'd kept his promise.

For years.

But then... Wels got hurt.

Under his watch.

Hels sat in the Nether Fortress that they'd escaped to, bandaging Wels's wounds, biting back tears.

I can't believe this happened, A voice came into his head. I can't believe you failed like that.

Failed so badly that he might never wake up.

Hels felt tears brimming in his eyes, and when he had done all he could've, he sat and waited next to Wels, who was still breathing despite the Wither poison that was probably still in his veins.

Hels took his sword and sliced himself across his left arm. The pain blurred together with anger, so much fury, it nearly drowned it out.

Another cut.

It'll motivate me to do better next time.

A third.

If this ever happens again, I'll know what's coming.

Hels put the blade down, staring at the bleeding marks on his arm.

I'm sorry, Wels.

It's not self-harm.

It's not.

I'd like to say. Please don't think...

A: Oh my god, this is a projection oneshot!! Storm's hurting herself!! Time to write an entire paragraph of love!!

This isn't a projection oneshot. It has nothing to do with me other than the fact that I wrote it.

B: wOw, Hels is smart, I should try that!!

Do I really have to explain this one? Do not, and I mean do not follow Hels's actions in any way.

Please.

-Storm