sane
T | dark fic | self-harm | non-sense
"Hakuba Saguru was familiar with the pain. "
I'm here. More than once he wanted to shout out these words and the number of time when he screamed it in his head was more than thousands. The diffirence was that, as time passed by, the urge for the first one was less and less while it was more and more for the second. But whichever he did, it always bought him the same result: noone heard him. Gradually, he came to learn that it didn't matter what he did, there would be no exception.
The fact feared him with a new, terrifing doubt that, did he really exist? As days went by, the need for a guarantee was intolerable. But who could tell him if it was true except himself? He needed a way to make sure for it, a way to prove his own existence.
Sometime not long after, he came to the pain. At the beginning it was some scratches on his wrists, then they soon came to his inner things where noone could see. He hid them well for the shame of how depratedly he needed a proof for his life. Wasn't it too startling? And once noone could see the scatches, he found out that he could go further by running a knife on his thigh slowly, slightly at first but it went deeper and deeper shortly after. The skin was broken, blood dripping down his shaking legs as an electric running through his nerves and he felt something very close to pleasure. I'm here. I am right here. I'm alive. The pain was the evidence for that. He breath, he bled and he could feel regardless of the fact that it was only the pain that he felt. It hurt yet it was blissful. He couldn't help but doing it again and again. The reddishness and metallic taste of blood filling his senes screamed for more and more, deeper and deeper.
.
'You look pale.' He heard someone say and he almost laughed.
No, I'm not just pale, I feel fucking sick inside. But he kept it to himself and put on a smile as if it was nothing, as if everything was alright, as if all of this wasn't madness.
Noone care, after all. Not the distant teacher, not those brats that didn't talk to him and called him names behind his back. Noone. Only the pain could make him feel alive, only it would comfort him, assume him, even if it worked in such a twisted way. The number of scratches increased as days passed by, the new crossed upon the old. And after that he was always exhausted to the bone but still, he felt content. He slept more and more each day to the point that one day, he couldn't wake up. It was when, finally, someone noticed that something was wrong with the little boy of Hakuba family. Though, their concern came a bit late.
.
When he opened his eyes again, it was the hospital celling that he saw. His mind was in a fog and he couldn't feel his body. And it was where it all ended. The pain, his gentle mirage of relief. They took him to Britain, away from Japan, away from the people that hadn't ever acknowledged him once.
.
Baaya was good. She was always there. She didn't ignore him. At the beginning she didn't leave him on his own for so long as a minute, making sure that he wouldn't touch a knife to stick it in his body ever again. Eventually, he had to get used to it the way he had done with the pain once. You can't expect people to like you for no reason. You have to make them. Consequentially, he came to learn how to act infront of people, how to get their attention, how to smile sweetly and flirt so naturally even if he didn't feel it the slightles.
Compared to all that, he was more found of being alone. Yes, he had used to loneliness for so long he'd grown found of it. His favorite place was his grandfather's library. There were a lot of books, they were put in order on giant shelves. He read quite a lot. His favorite one was Sherlock Holmes and the detective was his favorite character. Holmes was unique and he could live with it well and didn't feel lonely once. It was fascinating.
Cases came not so long after, as a result even. He quickly found out that sloving them was very satisfying, it had the feeling that was the same as what the pain had given he once, but healthier. People started to notice him once he appeared. It was good. He was surround by people but never alone with just one person. It, again, was good. Baaya needn't to worry about his safety (though sometime he doubted that). It also good. Then for his personal preference, he dressed himself as Sherlock Holmes. He then, eventually, came out from the hollowness that hauted him for so long.
"Hello. I'm Saguru Hakuba, detective."
2015.05.23
A/N: I'm a piece of trash _(:3JL)_. So, it's one of my bad headcanon (sorta) that Hakuba was bullied when he was a kid and went to school in Japan because, you know, he was different, being a mixed-race kid and all. Then I wrote it down because the idea kept nagging me and I needed some stress relief and I'm a horrible person like that so yeah, it kind of happened. Though, I dont believe Hakuba would do something like this, really. Well, it's merely fanfiction, I suggest we digging no further into this subject and srl, kids, don't try it at home.