Okay, so I just remembered I had this oneshot that I wrote a while ago that I never actually posted and, after some editing, I've decided to finally do so. I don't even know why I wrote this, but if you didn't think I was fucked up in the head before, I'm sure you will after reading this. Anyway, enjoy!
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
He can't remember a time when they weren't there. The voices, that is.
They whisper in the darkness, like demons trying to force their way inside his mind. And sometimes, they get in.
They mutter in the back of his head in hushed murmurs to each other before speaking clearly in one combined tone. It's always short, always too the point, and always forceful.
He used to be able to ignore them, didn't think that it would end up being so difficult. When they told him to do something, he never listened, forced them to just shut up, and they quieted for a while. There were times when they drove him out of his mind, and he had to physically yell at them to get them to stop, but he was always in control. Until he wasn't.
He started losing track of time.
It first happened after school, during the Host Club. He was sitting with his brother, putting on their strange act for the ladies, and suddenly, time was up. It was time to leave. It greatly confused him, because did they even do that one thing they planned?
He asked his brother, who simply crinkled his nose in confusion and told him that, yes, they did do that. He went gone along with it, it didn't bother him too much, but the voices whispered exceptionally loud that night.
Then, things got worse. People kept referring to things he said or did or promised, but he often couldn't remember what they were talking about. It left him on more than a few people's bad side, but he wasn't sure what upset them, couldn't hope to know. And his friends complained to him about times he was snappish, but he never remembered, still doesn't, so he just apologized and moved on. That's when it started to get harder to ignore the voices requests.
He was so good at hiding it, and no one suspected a thing because no one had any reason to. But now they'll suspect everything, and they'll be right. He can't hide this.
Because now he sits on his kitchen floor with a knife in his hand, in a rapidly forming puddle of blood. It's not his own blood, and he looks up, because he has to know who he's hurt. But hurt doesn't do justice to what he's done, it's a lot more than just hurt. And it's not just some random "who." It's the only "who" that really matters to him.
"Kaoru…" Speaking seems to pull him out of his trance, and he can't believe what he's done.
How did he get here? He can't remember ever having moved, can't recall wanting to do this or picking up the kitchen knife.
The knife…
He throws the weapon as far from him as he possibly can because he doesn't want to have to look at it. He calls an ambulance as well, gives them the address. They'll be on their way. He wonders if it will be in time.
Where are all of the staff? Why aren't they here? There is probably a reason, but Hikaru can't remember, just like he can't remember how this happened or how he himself got here.
How could he do this? Those stupid voices and their horrible tricks. He shouldn't have underestimated them.
"Kaoru." He can feel tears in his eyes as he holds his brother and tries to stop the bleeding, and he thinks that he doesn't have the right to cry. He did this.
"Hi…ka…" Hikaru's not quite sure if Kaoru has purposely shortened his name or if he simply cannot get anything else out other than those two syllables.
"I…Kaoru, I-" He chokes on his own sobs, and he wishes that it could actually kill him, because he can't live with himself knowing that Kaoru is dying because of him.
"Why…?" Kaoru doesn't need to elaborate, Hikaru just knows.
"I-I don't know why. I n-never wanted to hurt you, I'm s-so sor-ry." A tear drips onto Kaoru's face, and Hikaru feels a hand on his cheek, wiping away any that remain.
"Don't cry…Hika… It's al…right…"
Why is he doing this? Why is he comforting him? Hikaru did this. He knows he did this because the voices are cheering in celebration and he is trying to ignore them with all his might.
"Don't tr-try to comfort me. I-I…I did this." He says the last part with with conviction.
"It's…okay."
"No! It's not! It'll never be okay!" Hikaru can hardly see through his tears, but he thinks he can make out a smile on Kaoru's face.
"Don't be sad…I'm-" Kaoru wheezes, and Hikaru's heart jumps in his chest. He hopes that ambulance hurries up. "-I'm not…mad. I still…love you…"
"You can't! Kaoru, y-you can't still love me if I did this!" His brother can hardly keep his eyes open.
"You're my…brother… I…will always…love…" His eyes finally flutter shut, and his breathing cuts off, his chest halting in its rising and falling pattern.
"Kaoru? Kaoru! Come on, you have to wake up, Kaoru! You have to wake up and tell me that you don't still care about me, please! You can't!" Hikaru is crying so much now that he thinks he might drown in his own tears.
And Kaoru still doesn't wake up.
The ambulance arrives then, but it's already too late.
Kaoru is gone.
The police are there too, and Hikaru isn't sure if they got there with the ambulance or if they were called after, but he confesses everything to them with no hesitation. He doesn't tell them about the voices though, because he knows if he does they'll take it as his excuse, and no amount of excuses can fix what he's done. Because Kaoru was his brother, the most important person in his life. Because Kaoru was his world. And he just killed him.
As he is walked to the cop car with handcuffs on his wrists, he catches a glimpse of what he knows is Kaoru being carried to the ambulance on a stretcher, a white sheet covering his body.
He spots their friends then, and it's with little shock that he realizes he has no real right to call them his friends. They are trying to get past the police to him, perhaps to tell them that he has been falsely accused because they don't think he is capable of such a deed, but they are held back firmly.
Tamaki is leading them, and he has tears running down his face – mourning Kaoru, Hikaru presumes. Haruhi is at his side, trying to hold them all back like a sensible human being despite her own tears. Honey sits on Mori's shoulders, bawling his eyes out while Mori tries his very hardest to look unaffected, but his face is crinkled in sadness. Hikaru cannot read much of Kyoya's expression from behind the glasses the older boy wears on his face, but he can see that his cheeks look a little damp as well.
He is finally shoved into the back seat of a police car, no longer able to see his companions' expressions. It does little good though, for he can see his own face in the car's rear view mirror the whole drive to the police station, and the psychotic smile that has settled there so clearly contradicts the tears running down his cheeks. The voices maniacally cackle in unison, the sound reverberating within his own head, and he is startled to find himself laughing along with them, but he simply cannot stop.