You could sense the many pairs of eyes on you as you tugged up your long sleeve, revealing dozens of cuts and scars made by the little, sharp thing hidden in your bathroom. Several people gasped, but other than that, the room was so quiet that you could hear a pin drop. You didn’t dare look up, even though you could feel the eyes of many others staring at you with a peculiar kind of innocent sadness. Their eyes burned holes though you, and even though that you knew that they would never in a million years blame you, guilt wracked your heart.
“What did you do to yourself?” a quiet voice asked, while a soft, calloused hand tilted your chin up. Your eyes met a pair of twin violet orbs, looking into yours with such intensity that you couldn’t bear to look away, even though your mind screamed and kicked at you to move your eyes back to the floor. Tears welled up and almost flowed over, but being as strong-willed as you were, you refused to let them slip out.
“This obviously isn't nothing,” another voice added. Alfred came into your view. His hands were shaking almost as hard as you were, but you could sense that it was more out of worry that anger. His cerulean eyes burned with a passion that you hadn’t seen ever before, and just like Matthew's, they locked onto yours and held on tight.
“Definitely not, Sunflower.”
“How could you say that it’s nothing?”
“It’s important, (f/n).”
“Why would you even want to do this in the first place?”
You were overwhelmed by the surge of emotion and collapsed into desperate sobbing. Tears flew from your eyes like rivers. You could feel yourself being surrounded by all the people that had decided to form this ‘intervention’ of sorts. Many pairs of arms wrapped themselves around you and sweet nothings were whispered from every side.
“We love you.”
“You’re not alone anymore.”
“We’ll be there for you.”
“Never give up.”
“We care for you.”
“We want you here with us.”
“Don’t give up.”
“We’ll be there for you.”
It seemed like you couldn’t cry anymore. You had sat there, crying for what seemed like hours, but in all honesty was probably minutes, surrounded by all the people that claimed that you were family, that they loved you, that you were loved. Your frantic gasps for breath between your cries were calmed and soothed by the supporting hands rubbing at your back, your tear-streaked face dried by the comfort of another, your scars lovingly wrapped by the hands of a friend that promised to be there, no matter what.
Slowly, you stood up, shaking slightly as you put all of your weight on your feet for the first time in almost an hour. Warm hands kept you standing as someone lead you to the old, battered couch in the living room. You plopped down, immediately trying to wrap your arms around yourself. However, before that could happen, strong yet gentle hands stopped you.
“I have an idea,” Prussia muttered, running off to the kitchen.
He came back a few minutes later, carrying dozens of markers and pens with him. The colors ranged from blue to red, from yellow to brown, from purple to orange. Prussia handed one to all the people present and stood in front of you when he had finished. “Hold out your arm.”
You did as he said, and a few seconds of him drawing something unseen on your arm, Prussia released his grip on your wrist and gestured to your arm. Upon it, a single Prussian Blue butterfly was drawn.
“I heard of this thing. It’s called The Butterfly Project. When you feel like you want to cut again, you are supposed to draw a butterfly on your arm. It represents a person that cares about you and wants to see you to get better.
“You are not allowed to wash it off, you hear me? It has to fade away naturally. No exceptions. And you are not allowed to cut. You come to any of us if you ever have the urge. If you cut while the butterfly is still on you, you killed it.”
“Not really killed it, Italy. It’s not alive.”
“So, anyway, we’re all going to draw one for you on your arm. I made sure to get different colors so you can tell which person made each one.”
First to come up was Canada with a bright purple marker. “Same color as my eyes, huh?” he grinned, wrapping his arms around you when he finished and holding you for a minute.
Next, America waltzed up with a vibrant red marker. “Just like the stripes on my flag!” Leave it to him to be able to smile so brightly. Only he could lift your spirits with a single grin.
Germany came up with an orange marker. “You can remember that it’s mine because of my flag, right? I mean, it is kinda difficult to forget," he muttered, placing a small kiss on your forehead.
Francewas next, gliding up with a pink marker. “Love. That’s all you need to know about pink.” His soft hands caressed the sides of your face, his vibrant blue eyes looking into yours with so much hopelovepassion that it almost hurt, in a good kind of way.
Italy and Romano were next with a green marker for the both of them. “Our flag. Remember that.” “Yeah! And it’s like basil on top of pasta!” Twin kisses were placed on both of your cheeks.
Russia smiled as he pulled out a yellow marker. “The same color as a sunflower. You know, to me, sunflowers have always been so hopeful, like the sun coming out after a rainstorm." Ivan held both of your hands in his, smiling at you with such tender care that you couldn't help but feel the ghost of a grin pulling at the corners of your lips.
China drew on your arm with a dark red. “Red is the color for good luck, aru. Besides, red is love. We love you. Never forget that." China brushed his hand along your arm, a sweet gesture that conveyed everything that he wanted to say with just the flick of a wrist.
Japan carried a grey marker with him. “Grey is calm. Think of me when you see grey.” Even though Kiku wasn't much for touching other people, he quickly placed his hand over your fingers before pulling back.
England drew a bright green butterfly near your hand. “It’s just like my eyes, and like flying mint bunny.” A gentle smile lit Arthur's features as he enveloped you in a light hug.
“Yeah, okay, England.”
“Shut up, America!”
Everyone stood in front of you, still holding their colored markers. They smiled, some barely holding back tears of their own, some reassuringly, some hopefully. “Now, remember that you’ll never be alone with us around.”
“You can’t ditch us!”
“Try as you might, we won’t leave.”
“We’re going to help you through this.”
“We’ll be there for you.”
“Never gonna give you up~!”
"Oh god, don't sing, America."
"Wow, England. Just wow."
"Shut it, you two."
“We’ll stand by you side.”