Trigger Warning: s3lf h4rm, even the note isn't safe.

Note: So the first bit is gonna be angsty and about the act of s/h, and the second is gonna be fluffy.

Annnd, yeah idk.

I don't have scars that are visible from my s/h cuz I made myself use a dull knife and forced myself to quit when my urges to grab a razor became more powerful, high nigh nonignorable (I was literally looking for razors to use. It is possible to quit without therapy or anything, but it is difficult and, in most cases involves relapsing, I speak from experience). But. I was thinking about what I would do if I found out my future lover/partner were caught in the habit of s/h or had been, like, what I'd do if I found their scars. And I decided that the first thing I'd do would be to kiss every single scar I saw, because that's what I'd want. Actions first and then the words that I'm still loved and valid and they're sorry I ever felt the need to do that, but they understand, and then ask how I'm doing now. And, you know, the golden rule: "Do to others what you'd have them do to you." So that's what I'd do.

And then I wanted to write a oneshot with one of my favorite ships with that idea. So that's what I've done, and after this I might write another around this idea but with Caraval characters, I'm not sure yet.

Anyway, anyone who can read this, I hope that you find some comfort in the fact that you are not alone in your struggles and maybe even temptations regarding s/h. If you can't quit on your own, please find a way to get help! Not everyone is out to hurt you, chances on the other end of a s/h hotline are most likely there because they care, and it is not a weakness to admit you need help sometimes. You don't have to do it on your own. And I know this is super cliche, I mean, even me calling out how cliche it is is cliche!..but seriously I mean it.

And remember, if you, like me, hurt yourself because you feel like you have no control, just remember that ultimately you are the only one who can stop yourself. No one can do it for you. Only you can stop your pain from hurting yourself further.

So about the oneshot..

We'll say that it starts sometime after Alvar was found to be part of the Neverseen at the end of book four, and then the second bit, the fluffy part, is...whenever really. Imagine them as old as you want. This is basically just a AU where Keefe and Fitz fall in love instead of Sophie and Keefe. Maybe Sophie will be with Biana, cuz I know people like that ;)

. . .

He wasn't okay.

   Fitz felt every stare, every judgy or pity-full glance, and he didn't need to hear what everyone was talking about to know what they were saying.

   "His brother...the Neverseen...Vacker scandal...What if he is evil too?"

   He wanted to punch all of their faces, scream at them to mind their own businesses, bury himself under his pillows and scream into his mattress, but most of all: he just wanted thinking of his brother to not hurt so badly. He wanted to not be so helpless to the situation.

   So, one time while stress relief baking, he picked up a knife to chop the mallowmelt into slices and paused, remembering what Alvar had told him about some humans self harm habits. Knives, lighters, rope, water, overdose--the list had been horrifying when he first heard about it, but now it pulled him in, enticing him to cut, just a little bit. To sooth the pain, and do it much quicker then baking.

   And it started like that. Just a tiny scratch, barely even red. And even that little bit of pain, that little bit of control over what he felt, seemed to lift a weight off his shoulders.

   But it didn't last. Soon he found himself cutting again, just a little deeper. And the good feelings would wear off, and his anger would come back, and he'd cut again, even deeper, and the process would repeat until he would cut through the layers of skin just to spill his blood. Just to hurt himself, because self controlled pain clears the mind, he thought.

   But there is no real self control in self harm, as he soon came to realize.

   The urge pops up at random times, and you can't put it away from your thoughts until you indulge yourself. And you're constantly looking for more pain, and it doesn't satisfy unless you go deeper and leave more marks on yourself in one serving. And going deeper is dangerous, because that is how people die. And Fitz didn't want to bleed to death--not really.

   So, after a uncontrollable bleeding scare, he got rid of anything sharp from his room. No goblin throwing stars, no scissors, no nothing. After relapsing more then a few times, he finally had built up enough control over the urge to put it away from him completely.

   But he was left with the scars.

   Permanent reminders of his weakness. Permanent reminders of how much he really cared about his brother. Permanent reminders of how easily he had lost control and allowed his actions to escalate and grow into something destructive and dangerous.

   And the thing is, no one knew. He couldn't let anyone know--not only had he already "tamed" it on his own, but his pride would never recover if people knew that his anger was only a mask to hide how weak he really was.

   So, it was his secret. He moved on with life, but took special care to hide his scars every morning.

   But things have a funny way of coming to light eventually..

. . .

Keefe dug his finger into the thick sweet cream and licked it off, grinning when Fitz swatted his hand. "Hey! These are supposed to be gifted to Sophie, without Keefe germs all over them." Fitz scolded, shaking his head and trying to hide a smile.

   "Aw, come on Fitzy, you know your baking is too difficult for me to resist!"

   "The fact that I'm fabulous at something does not make it okay to ruin a gift for someone else. Anyway, what are you doing to help? You wanted to do this for Soph together."

   "Eh, really just wanted to learn all your secrets." Keefe grinned, wrapping his arms around Fitz from behind. Fitz shook his head, but continued making the tiny cakes, spreading them apart a little bit before rolling up his sleeves and grabbing the frosting-put-onner (Keefe had no idea what it was really called) and holding it over the mini cakes. He had added the mallowmelt part to three of the mallowmelts before Keefe's eyes caught on his left wrist.

   Fitz had never rolled up his sleeves before, not that Keefe had really noticed until now. His heart sank, because Keefe had been there too when Alvar had told Fitz about self harm--so he had a idea of what the scars were from, who they were from, and now the questions running through his head were when and why, although he had a guess as to that last one..

   But when he went to ask his questions, all that came out was a pathetic, "Fitzy-"

   Fitz glanced over his shoulder as Keefe took a step back and let his arms fall, then followed his lover's gaze, panic flickering through his teal depths.

   "I-I can explai-"

   He was cut off by Keefe taking a few cautious steps forward and gently taking Fitz's wrist in his own paler hands. His fingers just barely brushed Fitz's skin as he raised the arm to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to the lowest scar on his wrist.

   Keefe made a patient trail of kisses up Fitz's arm, kissing each and every scar. When he reached the sleeves, he didn't stop, but rather rolled it up even higher and continued to press tender kisses up all the way to the last scar.

   By the time he finished, Fitz's eyes were full of tears and he was trembling. Keefe wrapped his arms around him, sandwiching Fitz between himself and the counter.

   "You know you're loved, don't you?"

   Fitz nodded, finding himself not trusting his voice to speak.

   "And valid?"

   Fitz nodded, but was certain that Keefe felt his doubt to the question when Keefe held him tighter.

   It was silent for a moment before Keefe spoke again, "I can't express how sorry I am that you did that to yourself, but I understand." his voice started to crack at the end, so he cleared his throat a couple times.

   "You shouldn't be sorry, you didn't do it." Fitz mumbled.

   "But I love you, Fitz. It pains me enough when someone else hurts you...but I understand why it happened, really, I do."

   "Have you used self harm too?" Fitz asked, feeling a little bit of sick hope, but mostly concern...though it would be nice to not be the only one, he didn't want Keefe to hate himself too...well, anymore then he already did, at least.

   "Not like what Alvar told us about, no. But I have been really reckless and considered myself expendable, as you well know. Which, when you think about it, is probably another form of self harm, it's just less direct. Ugh, now I'm going all...mental-health-professional-title-that-I-don't-remember on both of us."

   "Therapist?" Fitz guessed with a tiny chuckle.

   "Yes! That."

   "Yeah...but, I guess I've never drawn those dots. I mean, I remember getting mad at you for being reckless...but I guess I have no right to."

   "Trust me, I hate myself for the both of us," Keefe joked, and when Fitz opened his mouth to tell Keefe that he shouldn't hate myself, Keefe said, "Chill out, baby, it was mostly a joke."

   "Keyword: mostly. And it held more truth in it then you're letting on. Keefe, you don't have to hate yourself."

   "Neither do you."

   Another moment of silence.

   Keefe glanced back at the mallowmelt cakes behind them. "Well, we should probably finish these so we can get them to the healing center."

   "Yeah, you're right."

   "And of course, by we, I mean you finish them and I will do my best to listen to anything you wanna talk about. So, Fitzy," Keefe jumped up to sit on the counter and rested his face in his hands and elbows on his knees, "How are you doing? No secrets!"

   As Fitz spread the thick, sweet cream on the cakes, he shared with Keefe absolutely anything that came to mind, no secrets.