I'm a shadow. Nothing more, nothing less. Nobody really notices if I have anything different in me from one day to the other. That is if they notice me at all. There's no reason not to do it. I've done it before, after all, so why am I feeling so uncomfortable and nervous? Everything is going to be okay. Things will go back to normal as soon as it is over. I do it, clean after myself and leave. If this doesn't work out, I always have a plan B. Nobody will notice a thing. Nobody will notice if something is a little off. After all, they haven't noticed anything so far.

That's all I could think of while I sitting against the most isolated tree in the school I could find. Why would anybody see if there was a red line that would scar in a few days? Even if they did, I could always say Number 2 left them there. I had said that a few times when my grandmother asked. She never looked completely convinced, but she never said anything after that.

I just needed to get that feeling out of my system. Years ago I could define that feeling. But not anymore. While I was staring at my wrist and the wristband that would cover it in a few minutes, I tried my best to recall that feeling, to find a way to express why I was feeling that way, but all I could think of was this need to do it. To just do it. To get this pressure inside my chest that I didn't even know where it came from. That pressure that I could no longer know if it would go with a simple cut.

I was getting second thoughts. If I didn't know if it was going to work, why bother do it at all? But, then again, what if it did work? What if everything would feel right if I just pressed the razor to my wrist? I wouldn't have to suffer anymore. At least not for a few days. I was pretty sure I would get this feeling again in no more than a few days if I was lucky, but at that point I didn't care about that, all I wanted was to feel better at that moment.

I had tried asking for help days before, but being a shadow has its disadvantages, too. Although it is perfect for my basketball style, it is terrible when I am in trouble. I tried asking for help. I even tried screaming for help, but all of that is useless if the people around you don't even notice you are there.

I cleared my head of all those thoughts and looked at my wrist. I didn't have to think about that. After all, if they didn't notice me, why was I even expecting that they would come to my help? It was non-sense, total non-sense. I took my razor more firmly and started pressing it against my wrist. It stung at first, to cut through the same places that had been cut over and over again, but it always did. And that was what was keeping me coming back once again. I knew that it would sting, but I knew that that exact feeling was what made everything else disappear. All of my problems in school, my problems at home, my problems in the basketball team, my problems with my previous team…all of that, gone. At that moment, I didn't have to think about how I was going to make things go back to the way before everything went wrong. I didn't have to think about why things had gone wrong. I didn't have to think about how things would have been different if I simply had more presence. Or about what would have happened if I hadn't done this or that thing. All that mattered was what was going on in my wrist.

That was all that went through my brain. It was always like that. I always let my guard down because I was always confident of how well I had covered my tracks and how well I could hide what I was doing so that nobody would find out. But this time it was different. My doubts must have had made me take way longer than I thought, because my state of pure numbness and thoughtlessness was cut off by some hands taking a hold of my right arm and taking my razor away from me.

"How long?" he said.

I couldn't raise my head. I was too embarrassed to look at him. I couldn't even utter a word. I was fully aware that I had been praying for somebody to help me, but I didn't want it to be this way and I definitely didn't want it to be him the person that found me in this state.

"Answer me, Kuroko. How long?" After what felt like hours, he let go of the firm grip that he had on my wrist and kneeled in front of me. "How long has it been, Kuroko? Please, answer me. I cannot see you like this." Again, minutes, or maybe hours, went by when all I could hear was the sound of our breathings. "I have been looking for you like crazy. I had a feeling something was off when I didn't see you during lunch break and I went crazy when I didn't see you in class after that. Please tell me what I can do to help you. I want to…no, I need to help you, just like you help me in the court, but to do that, I need you to trust me just as much as I trust you in those situations."

I looked up then and I found what I had been asking for, but not exactly in the way I wanted it. I had always wanted somebody to help me, yes, but I never wanted to see what I saw in Kagami-kun's eyes. I couldn't stand what I saw in them: worry, desperation, sadness…the list could go on and on forever.

"I am sorry, Kagami-kun. I trust you, I swear, that is not the problem here." Not even I could understand what I wanted to say. I wanted to scream, I wanted to run, I wanted to cry, I wanted him to know that I trusted him with my life. But I could not find the way to say that, so I simply looked at him straight in the eyes and hoped that he would understand me. And it was then that I saw it. That one thing in his eyes that made me believe that everything was going to be okay, even if I had to throw away my razors: I saw love.

"I get it. I do. Just…let me help you…please" he said so soft that I could barely hear him.

"I'll try. I promise I'll try."

I'm so, so, so, so sorry! I know I said I would be writting less angsty stuff, but, hey, at least nobody died this time.

I'm working on a romance fic for the Shingeki no Kyojin fandom, but it's multi-chaptered, so it may take a while for me to upload that one.

In case anybody has noticed: yes, I'm using Simple Plan song titles for my titles (mainly because they somehow inspire my stories).

Hope you enjoyed it. Comments are very much appreciated, either here or on my tumblr: .com