"There's never been a time that I wasn't there for you when you cried, right?" Romano heard Romulus' voice over the phone. He currently sat snuggling into his pillow, listening to his Grandpa talk."There hasn't been a time I haven't hugged you when you needed it, right?" It asked.
"R-Right." Romano shuddered, first tears escaping his eyes. His grandpa had never been there for him. He was always with Feliciano, who he had yelled at earlier in the day, and always left him at home. He always paraded him around like he was some award or prize.
Now, there were exceptions, like when Feli was with his boyfriend, or out with that 'Kiku' kid, exceptions where his younger brother left him with their delirious, old grandpa. The old man usually just sat on the couch watching some sort of cheesy soap opera, leaving Romano alone, completely ignoring the eldest grandchild. At this point, Romano's voice almost broke trying to reply to the mans multiple questions.
"Y-Yes, Grandpa. I-I'll go apologize to him." Romano swallowed down the rising bile, "Bye." He said, and hung up.
Instead of apologizing, he just sat there, staring at the wall. More tears escaped his eyes. He tried to fight the tears with the back of his hand, but there were more to come. Soon his face was covered in wet tracks and his eyes were red and puffy.
"It's harder then you think." A strangled laugh forced it's way from his mouth. "I wish I could tell you, but I can't... I can't tell you how it feels to be the odd one out, the one that everyone steps on, and teases. I wish I could tell you how it feels to be pushed around, to think of yourself lower than the rest. H-How it feels to be me and see everyone admire my brother and stare at him with such love, and then they look at me and think, 'Is that thing really related to him?' Oh, how I wish I could tell you, Grandpa. I wish I could tell someone, anyone. But the problem is, I can't tell you. I can't tell you anything. Because... Because I'm afraid you won't care." Romano wiped his eyes furiously, and hopped off the bed.
His footsteps resounded through the hallway, the hallway that lead to the only room in the house he could really trust, the room were everything stays and no secrets get out. The door opened, revealing a white porcelain sink and bathtub. He sighed and relaxed a bit at the sight. Walking through the bathroom, he tried desperately to remember where he had hid it this time. Rummaging through a pile of discarded clothes, he came across what he was looking for and flicked the Swiss army knife open to the sharpest blade.
With the knife held firmly in his grasp, he lowered the blade to his arm, and swiftly cut a small slit. He hissed, gripping the edges of the sink until his knuckles turned white. He watched the blood bubble from between the two crevices, and slip down into the sink. The first cut was always the hardest and the most painful.
Soon, a multitude of slits littered his arms, and the white porcelain sink was light pink. His mind was beginning to go fuzzy, and he felt something rise from the pit of his stomach.
He heaved up his dinner, and most of his lunch, quickly going from vomiting to dry, useless heaves. Silently, he closed the bloody blade, and slipped the metal casing inside his pocket.
His hand reached shakily towards the faucet, hissing lightly as his cuts were stretched. The water washed away the blood, and the happenings of the early afternoon. The sink was pure white again, and his cuts were only beginning to patch themselves up. Romano turned around, his deep cuts bleeding onto the carpet, drops littering the white fabric. He was losing to much blood by the minute and he could tell. Romano's mind went blank and he dropped, first to his knees, then his torso and head hit the tiled floor with a loud smack. His last conscious thought was 'good thing Grandpa isn't home.' The problem, though, was not the person not there.
The problem was the person that was.
a/n: welcome to a day in my life. This was based off of an actual night, except for the cutting. I don't cut myself, but I do feel like my parents parade my little sisters around, and I'm always the odd one out of their perfect family, the one that ruins everything. And that really is how I feel.
