P.S. I Love You
Dennis Whitaker x reader
Summary: a self indulgent fic about Dennis helping you through a hard time
Tags: very angsty, talks of past sh and urges (no graphic descriptions or details or anything like that are present), sharp objects mentioned once, please do not read if these things are triggering for you (I have many other work that are fluff or nsfw)
a/n: If you are having thoughts of hurting yourself in any way please text or call 988, the national suicide hotline. Stay safe ❤︎.
You don’t want to think about it. But it’s not like you have a choice.
The words are just start piling up inside your mouth, so much so that it gets to the point that it hurts more then it does to actually say them.
Dennis is half watching something on TV, half falling asleep, when you finally decide to speak.
“Dennis.”
He turns his head to you immediately. “Yeah?”
You don’t look back. You’re staring into your lap, fists clutched as they lay on your thighs.
“I need to tell you something” you say. “And I need you not to freak out.”
That alone is enough to make his stomach drop.
He sits forward, all traces of sleep gone, voice gentle but alert. “Okay. I’m listening.”
You swallow
“I’ve been having thoughts” you say quietly.
He nods once. “Of what?”
You squeeze your eyes shut thigh, preparing yourself for what you’re going to say.
“Of hurting myself.”
The silence that follows is thick — not empty, just heavy.
Dennis doesn’t interrupt. You can tell he’s bracing himself.
You force yourself to keep going before you lose the confidence to do so.
“I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to worry” you say. “But…they won’t go away.”
He keeps his voice steady, even though he’s freaking out. He knows that if he pushes too much you’ll pull away completely. “Okay” he says. “Uh, are-are you safe right now?”
“Yes” you respond quickly. “I haven’t done anything. But—” Your voice breaks. “I’m scared of what I might do.”
That cracks something in him.
He shifts closer slowly, like he’s approaching some skittish animal. “Can you tell me why?”
You take a shaky breath. “Because this isn’t new.”
“What do you mean?” he asks quietly.
You press your lips together, then finally say it.
“I’ve cut before.”
The words hang between you.
Dennis feels like the air’s been knocked out of his chest.
Before he can stop himself he’s already thinking about everything, how long ago? how bad? how did I not know?—which is followed by immediate guilt for thinking any sort of logistics rather then how you’re feeling.
“You…you’ve never told me that.”
“I know” you whisper. “I didn’t think I needed to because I thought I left it behind me...”
He forces himself to breathe. In through his nose, out through his mouth. The same way he does at work when everything is all too much.
“Okay” he says carefully. “Thank you for trusting me with that.” He’s almost clinical with it because he’s seen this kind of stuff before while working in the ED
You glance at him for a moment. His face is controlled, but behind his eyes there’s so much fear.
“I stopped years ago” you say quickly. “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want that to think that’s who I was…And for a long time, it was over.”
“But now?” he asks gently.
“But now my brain keeps going back there” you say. “Not because I wanna hurt but it’s like-I…I dunno.”
His jaw tightens.
“I hate that i still think of it” you continue, words tumbling out faster now. “I hate that I start thinking about when to do it, times I’d be alone, about how to hide it from you.”
Dennis’s chest tightens painfully.
He doesn’t panic.
“Those thoughts scare you…” he says.
“Yeah” you say immediately. “They terrify me. I don’t want to go back there, Dennis. I don’t want things to get bad again.”
Your hands are shaking now. He notices. He hates that he notices that.
“I don’t trust myself alone” you admit, tears welling from your eyes. “I don’t trust that if the urge is big enough I’ll convince myself it’s okay to do just once. And then just once turns into a lot more…”
That’s when his composure almost cracks.
He feels panic surge, sharp, clinical, terrified by every worst‑case scenario he’s ever thought about . He’s doing his best to push those thoughts deep down
He reaches out slowly. “Can I hold you?”
You nod, and the his hands wrap around you, you start fully crying.
“I didn’t want to scare you” you sob. “I didn’t want you to think I was hiding something this whole time.”
Dennis squeezes your hands, his touch grounding. “You weren’t hiding to lie to me” he says. “You were scared. I get that.”
You shake your head. “I should’ve told you.”
“You’re telling me now.” he says. “That’s what matters.”
There’s a pause. Then, carefully “I need to ask you something, and i really want you to be honest with me.”
You nod.
“Have you done it recently?”
“No” you respond immediately. “I promise. But I’ve been close. I don’t like that.”
His chest feels like his ribs are tightening in on him. “Okay.”
He leans in until his forehead rests against yours. You can feel his shaky breath, a sign of how hard he’s trying to hold it together for you.
“Thank you for telling me before it got worse” he murmurs.
You whisper, tears still rolling down your“I don’t want to be that person again.”
“You’re not” he says firmly. “You’re just someone who’s struggling—and you asked for help.”
You pull back slightly. “You’re not mad?”
“No. I’m scared because I love you. There’s a difference.”
That finally breaks you. And for the next few minutes he’s wiping your tears and rubbing your back while you let everything out.
After a few minutes, when your breathing evens out, Dennis speaks again.
“Can we do something right now?” he asks.
“Okay.”
“Let’s make tonight safer” he says. “Just tonight, no big decisions or anything. No shame.”
You nod with a quiet “Okay.”
He keeps it simple.
“No sharps out” he says. “We put them away. together. Not because I don’t trust you, just ’cause your minds being weird.”
You both move through the apartment. He walks you through what he’s doing, making sure you’re included, making sure the control is in your hands.
When you’re back on the couch, tired and completely drained, he sits close with his arm around you.
“If the urges get bad tonight, tell me. You don’t get to sit with them alone.”
Your voice trembles, tired and almost pained. “Even if you’re asleep?”
“Especially then” he whispers.
You lean into him fully, your head resting against his chest.
After a while, when the worst of the pain has passed, he speaks again, just as soft and careful as before.
“Tomorrow” he starts “we’re going to look into help. A therapist. Someone who knows how to help.”
Your body tense up slightly. “You’re not trying to hand me off...”
“No” he says firmly. “Of course not, I’d never do that” he frowns
“I just wanna you to have someone who actually knows this stuff and can really help. I’ll still be there, all the time. I just won’t be your only lifeline.”
You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.
“Okay” you whisper.
He presses a kiss to the top of your head. “Tonight, were just gonna make sure your safe. Tomorrow, we talk about getting you support. And i won’t leave your side.”
The urges don’t disappear.
But they don’t hurt as much anymore, it doesn’t feel like you’re hiding something.
And for now—that’s enough to keep you safe.
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a/n: I’m pretty sure this is my first angsty post and while editing it I realized how sad it is, sorry guys (ᵕ•ᴗ•). But in all seriousness please stay safe and seek help if you’re struggling. I may not know you but you’re human too so I love you.
