Nico was sat on his bed doing nothing. Well that wasn't exactly true. He was thinking.
Part of his brain was in disagreement with the rest over what he was contemplating.
But the other part, a much bigger part, was fogging his mind.
Clouding it with thoughts of what he could do with a shiny blade against his skin. He could cut open the pale flesh. Letting the blood run out, to be free, just as Nico longed to be free of these thoughts.
It would be so beautiful. Seeing the contrast of bright red against his almost white skin. It would be so pretty. He could make art with his body. With his blood.
The smaller part of his brain tried to tell him it wouldn't be beautiful. That this wouldn't be art, even in the most twisted sense of the word.
But that part was being slowly silenced. Smothered by the great black storm cloud of emotion.
It wasn't like Nico hadn't self harmed before. Just never cut.
He picked at the skin beside his nails. Pulling at it to reveal the raw bloodied flesh beneath.
He pulled at his hair too.
Nico didn't even realise that what he was doing was self harming when he first began years earlier. He just knew it felt good to pull out just one more, now just one more, no this would be the last, and just one final ebony hair from the same spot just behind his ear.
Nico just saw dragging a blade across his skin the next step in his downward spiral. Such as a drug addict might move from snorting to injecting heroine just to try get back the rush they first felt.
The small part of Nico's brain told him he had no reason to do this. Any of this.
It wasn't like he was depressed.
He had a loving family. So okay it wasn't perfect. His dad had left before he was even born. But he still had his Mom and sister.
Thinking of them cleared the cloud a little. Like the sun making a brief appearance in an overcast sky. The moment of clarity gave him chance to think of the promise he'd made to his beautiful boyfriend.
He'd shared these thoughts with Leo once. The other boy had hugged him. Making Nico promise not to.
And Nico had promised. Because how could he not. Looking into Leo's eyes he was sure he'd promise that boy anything. He promise him the world.
But Leo wasn't here. He wasn't here to hold him. He wasn't here to tell him he loved him and to never forget that, because I love you Nico Di'angelo.
So just as the sun had come out it disappeared back behind the clouds. Or more accurately the one all consuming cloud.
Nico reached over to open his bedside draw. His hand hovering over the black box in there as his mind became completely clouded.
He lifted the box out to reveal a blade inside. Nico had come close but he had never actually used it before.
But it had been waiting for him. Waiting till Nico was finally ready.
He lifted the bottom of his boxers revelling a little more of his pale flesh.
He paused for a moment.
Not because he wasn't sure whether to go ahead. No. His resolve was set.
He paused for a moment to prepare for the weight, from an unknown source, to be lifted from his shoulders.
Nico pressed the blade in. He felt the pain but it was nice to feel something different even just for a moment.
He cut again and again leaving gashes along his thigh.
Nico stopped to watch as the blood rushed to the surface of his skin. He stared as the blood ran along kiss skin, trailing patterns as it went.
The boy shook his head to clear it of the red cloud that had begun to creep in. He looked down at his leg and gingerly placed his boxers back down over the wounds. Watching as it soaked up his mistake.
Because indeed it was a mistake. The unknown weight on his shoulders was still there.
Nico quickly placed the, now bloodied, blade back in the black box. Not bothering to wipe it. He placed the box back in the draw. Ready for next time.