Disclaimer: I do not own the characters. They belong to Masashi Kishimoto. I do not make any money from writing this.
Other important notes:
I know this story has been up since 2011. I also know I've not published anything in a long, long, LONG time. There are multiple reasons for this. including losing the storyline, not beind in the mood to write, personal stuff. In the end to much to name. However, the story has always stayed in the back of my mind. And feeling better I've decided to pick things up. Though they have been rewritten with the chance more things will change (including the title and summary).
Though I have to say that I really wish to thank the lovely reviews i've gotten. They keep making my day every time I read them. So thank you all!. Hopefully you will still love the rewritten parts. More will follow soon though I can't really give any dates.
Comments and advice stays welcome. Also, I still don't have an English spellcheck.
well, the rant is over so enjoy! :)
...
It was hard to keep warm. While the old house could keep most of the near freezing water away, the wind had free game. Cutting through the house and hitting everthing in it's path. Including a blonde. Sitting on his knees and curled in a blanket. The blonde however, didn't seem to bet hat bothered by the cold. A thin layer of sweat covering his face. Heavy, shallow breathing could be heard whenever the wind stopped blowing for a moment. Blank, blue eyes fixed on bloody wrists.
The knife in the right hand shimmered softly from the light shining through the cracks. It's edges covered in blood. The red marks burning angrily on slightly tan skin where the knife had just been. Blood trickling out most of the cuts and onto the ground. Though none were deep enough to cause serious damage to the bigger vessels. Every so now and then a tear joined the blood on the wrist. Causing it to fall faster. Joining other crimson marks on the floor.
A soft whimper. "Why can't I just finish it off?". A press of the blades lemmet down the length of the wrist. "No-one would care if I'm gone." More pressure on the blade. It hurt. Though it wasn't enough to cut through the skin just yet.
More tears hit the ground. Pulling the blade of the wrist he dropped it to the ground. Hands going up the grab blonde locks. Smearing them with blood in the progress. "Why am I so weak? The only ones that want me is the enforcement officers. They should know that I have nothing?"
Wiping his tears with the back of his hand he located the knife and picked it up. He unclenched his left hand, looking at the still mouth in it's palm. "It's all your fault!". Slicing the blade just below it. Watching as blood tricked from the fresh cut. It caused the mouth to awaken. Slipping it's tongue out to lap at the blood.
"It's all your fault! Everything is!" Placing the blade once again lengthwise on his wrist. "All your fault." He pressed. "All….Your… Fault….." In an impulse he pulled the blade over his skin. Deeper then before. Blood immediatly poring out the new wound. It hurt. It hurt a load. But there was finally a smile on the blondes face.
He could feel the blood streaming out. Taking with it all the pain, sadness and despair. He could no longer hear the wind pressing it's way through the house. He could no longer feel any pain. He decided to lie down and close his eyes. Waiting for the darkness to take him.
One final tear and a soft whisper. "Your fault."