TRIGGER WARNING INVOLVES SELF HARM AND DARK THEMES. PLEASE PLEASE DON'T CUT. I WROTE THIS AS A PROMPT, PLEASE DON'T EVER HURT YOURSELF.
Prompt; What if one day Hiro started cutting. Tadashi didn't know until about a month before his death. After his death, the only thing Hiro could do that could hurt was burning.
came up with this on instagram. I blame this on you.
He don't know why it started. He could blame it on the kids bullying him as he got ready to graduate high school at 13. He could blame it on the guys that called him worthless when he tried to join the bot fights. He could blame it on aunt Cass for bringing up his parents at the dinner table a couple nights ago. He didn't know what triggered it, but there was something inside of him.
It was triggered when the screw fell out of his 15th prototype for his bot. Tadashi was at the lab and aunt Cass was out with her girlfriends. He snapped and grabbed the screw tightly in his hand, the point digging in enough that it broke the skin. Hiro unfurled his hand to see the tiny dot of red welled up into a drop. He grabbed the screw hesitantly, and dragged it across his wrist. The immediate sensation was indescribable. Hiro dragged it twice more across his wrist before realizing hat the haze he once was in was now clear. He sat on the floor watching the blood gather and then spill over the edges of the cuts. His heart was pounding but his head was so numbingly clear.
It went on for the next several months like that. He would cut himself and then feel so clear, but then it would become a haze once again. He got better at it after a while. Switching from the screw to a blade he got off his pencil sharpener and then to a razor he stole from the package that aunt Cass had bought. He wore his hoodie most of the time when he could, and when he couldn't, he got to wearing some magnetic bracelets that had become a trend.
Hiro knew that once Tadashi had seen his wrists when he was carrying him to bed one night after he had stayed up late working on his microbots. He had woken up to Tadashi crying on the chair next to him, but only breathed really loudly and turned on his side, trying to stay calm. He knew that Tadashi wouldn't understand. It was this block pressing down on his chest, this darkness that never went away that crushed him on all sides. It was something that Baymax could never fix.
The night of the showcase, Hiro was sure Tadashi was going to say something. He had cut the night before out of fear of the unknown, but when the building caught on fire, the moment was lost.
The explosion knocked him on his feet and his whole body felt numb. Where was Tadashi. His mind was racing but nothing made sense. He was a kid genius and in that moment he was reduced to nothing. Everything just dispersed into nothing.
When they found the body, it was hardly recognizable. It was burned in the intensity of the fire and the damage was irreparable. He was irreparable. That night he couldn't sleep. He couldn't breathe. There was a lump in his throat the size of a ballon and it kept on inflating. Aunt Cass had cried herself to sleep on the couch and the entire world was dead silent. He went downstairs quickly and quietly and grabbed the kitchen knife that Aunt Cass used for her steak nights and brought it upstairs to the bathroom. He sat in the tub and place the tip on his wrist, dragging it deep and long just like he was used to. But it didn't work. He cut once more, twice. It wasn't working. Tears began to stream down his face as his world wasn't working right.
He closed his eyes, his body shaking and he could feel the blood pouring from his wrist. He opened his eyes and got out of the bathtub to get the cloth he used to clean the cuts when he saw it. The candle Tadashi had lit when he told Hiro that he was going to light up the world with his project.
Hiro wiped the blood off his wrist and grabbed the small candle cautiously, bringing it to his wrist. It slipped on the blood on his finger and the wax spilled onto the crease of his elbow. He cringed slightly before realizing what had happened. He wiped his tears away haphazardly and focused as he brought the candle closer and dumped the rest of the wax on his arm. It hardened almost immediately, but the sense of clarity was coming back. He passed his hand over the flame, each time getting closer and with each pass, his world was less clouded. He passed the flame over his new cuts and it burned with the ferocity that he could barely imagine.
A drop of blood fell onto the candle, and then another on the wick, effectively putting it out, but it was okay. He had finally found his way again. It was all so clear. The uncertainties would continue, for now though, everything was clear.