You were standing in the bathroom, a razor in your hand. It's okay... you've done it before... well- once, but its okay- You could do it again. You gently turned on the faucet and began hacking away at your hand, her body shaking. it was easier to do it on your hands rather than your wrists or anything... it hurt, yes, but... less than the first time.

You were pretty zoned out that you didn't even hear nor notice a knock on the door, before Finley walked in. You were staying with him for a while while your family was away. He was a very nice man, a family friend and a father to a little girl. He was always so calm and just a chill presence. And even right now, when he walked in on you, he didn't seem very phased. Maybe a mild look of surprise and concern flashed in his face, but nothing more. He was just quiet as you both locked eyes and his darted between you and your new bleeding wounds.

"...oh sweetheart..." he sighed out, though... not in a pitying or concerned way. rather an oddly... casual way. Like he was just acknowledging the fact rather than looking at you like a poor wounded animal. He walked up to you carefully, turning off the faucet and gently putting his hand on the razor in yours. When you didn't let go, he gave you a small glare with a casual yet stern expression of "let go.". When you did, he took it slowly and placed it on the counter next to him so you couldn't grab it. He then softly took your hands, not seeming to mind the blood. He inspected them with a calm look for a moment.

"You really did a number on them, huh?" he mumbled out with a small smirk, though not in an insensitive way. He gently kept your hands in his, pulling out some Neosporin, cotton swabs, and band-aids from the cabinet. When he glanced up at you and saw your look of guilt and fear, he sighed quietly through his nose with an understanding gaze..

"I'm not mad." he said calmly, gently and swiftly grabbing the sides of your head and planting a quick kiss to your forehead before getting to work on your hands.