I didn't really intend to continue my fic "Never to know" but someone requested it and the idea wouldn't let go of me. So, here is the sequel. I warn you, though: It might trigger. Please, don't read it if you can't handle explicit self-harm and depressing thoughts.
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of Sekaiichi Hatsukoi.
"I'm not going! You can't force me!"
"Just be reasonable for a second, would you?! It can't go on like this! You even said so yourself!"
"Yeah, I remember! But I can deal with it myself! I don't need a therapist!"
"If you could you wouldn't have started with this shit! So don't fucking kid yourself!"
This argument had repeated itself for over a week now but the two never came to an agreement. They were far away from seeing the other's point of view.
Takano insisted that Ritsu should see a therapist to cure his cutting problem but said man was absolutely against it.
Since the raven haired man found out about Ritsu's dark secret he couldn't stop thinking and worrying about it- even though he didn't always show it. He was concerned that the cutting was only the first step. Who knew when this act of self-harm wouldn't be enough anymore? He never would have thought that Ritsu was the type to think of suicide but now he wasn't so sure anymore. After all, he had informed himself about cutting. Apparently, it caught you in a cycle that made an escape almost impossible. You needed help to get out. That was his point of view, at least.
Whereas Ritsu felt his spirits being lifted up again after his low point right after he was found out. Somewhere inside him he felt the strength to make it through this, to start anew. He was determined to get better, to solve his problems instead finding a method to cope with them. And he knew he didn't need any help to get his life back together.
Just the idea of needing help to deal with his problems made him think that he was weak and pathetic. After showing so much weakness before someone, who never seemed helpless or lost, he couldn't afford to let it happen a second time.
"Look, I haven't... done it ever since you found out. I'm fine now. I can handle it" Ritsu tried to convince the older man. He even rolled up his sleeve for prove.
An aura of determination and optimism surrounded him, so Takano finally sighed and decided that it was better to let Ritsu have his way. For now, that is.
"Urgh, fine! But if there's any indication that you're feeling worse again, I drag you to a therapist if I have to" he threatened, finally resigning.
Ritsu felt sort of high because he won that argument.
Indeed he felt a lot better. He couldn't even understand now why he had done something as ridiculous as hurting himself. If only he could turn back time and undo this huge mistake. Honestly, he felt disgusted at his own actions now.
His life made an abrupt turn for the best. The old Ritsu was back. Determined, stubborn and sort of jaded, but also caring at some point.
But something about him... was different. He seemed odd. But not odd enough, that anyone, not even himself, would have noticed.
It was like he was on drugs. His mood never really changed. Yeah, now and then he got these temper tantrums- mainly because of Takano- but he always got his good mood back immediately. He felt like nothing could ever bring him down.
But not long after, the expected downfall came and pulled him into the dark hole again. He broke down again.
He didn't really understand.
Just a day ago he felt fine.
The next morning, though, he felt the burden on his shoulders again, even heavier than before. His body ached without a reason and his heart stung as if someone had plunged a knife in it. He didn't even feel strong enough to get up.
Even his eyesight was different. Everything seemed to have lost its colour. On the other hand the shadows seemed to grow longer and they instilled a fear in him he couldn't really explain.
As he looked at his reflexion in the mirror in his bathroom, he suddenly felt something again. Rage. Disappointment. Hatred.
Why was his face so feminine? He was way too skinny and small for a man! No, that's not true! He was fat! Fat and small! Fat and small and ugly. He was an eyesore. No wonder that people always starred at him! He bet that they even talked and laughed about him behind his back! They made fun of him for sure! Who would want a loser like him anyway?
Suddenly fulfilled with anger he punched his reflexion in the mirror right in the face. His knuckles started to hurt and a grin formed on his lips.
The pain gave him satisfaction. Such an awful person like him needed to get punished! His sin was that he wasn't worth anything. So he needed to make up for it. He felt the urge to make a mess of the person he hated the most. Himself.
At first he just dug his nails in his skin until he started bleeding.
But it wasn't enough. He didn't feel satisfied.
As if he was in trance he searched frantically for his razor, then he put out the razorblade and stared at it for a minute.
Without thinking he slid it across his skin that tore apart at the contact. Blood started to drop down his arm, in his palm and then on the floor. Amazed he watched as the blood continued to flow.
He didn't feel any pain. He just felt relieved.
Now he could live with his ugly, dumb, useless self because he had gotten what he deserved. His hunger for punishment was finally stilled.
But at the same time it scared him. The hatred might have disappeared for now but he didn't know when it would show up again. He felt unsafe and tired.