A sun as bright as the blades that gleam in the artificial light.
The only difference is that the blades are what are seen more.
They're worshiped, relied on. At least, by Kiku.
A mask hides his poor self-confidence; hides the nonexistent hope in his eyes. Quiet, trapped screams, quiet trapped cries.
But his blades answer his cries, bringing him serenity, even if only for a moment.
Why should he live like this? Why? He asks himself that, every day. Kiku's mind is an enigma. Dying on the inside. Pretending on the outside.
It's driving him insane, but he has become a decent actor, yes.
They say love makes people do crazy things, but Kiku does not have love. He has depression, and an obsession with blades.
Depression makes people do even crazier things.
'It's okay,' he tells himself. 'It is only a phase.' But what if it isn't?
Depression never cures itself. Doctors, therapists, relatives ask why; Kiku doesn't know himself.
Is he in love?
Maybe. But he has become so numb; how could he feel it?
Is he obsessed?
Yes, Kiku knows this for sure. He is obsessed.
"How does it feel?"
"It feels like I'm on fire." he answers.
He has friends, yes he does - he has many. So, why does he feel so empty? So lonely? So...so incomplete?
Kiku sits at night, pondering why. He thinks until his head is burning. He needs someone to fill him, to fill his emptiness, to make him feel himself again.
But who would love an insane, insomniac cutter?
'No one,' he tells himself, 'no one.'
The pain he feels is incomparably devastating.
'But there is someone there for everyone,' he tells himself.
Maybe that someone just needs to come in to his life, and show him the world.
That is the reason he is still in this world to this day - he is waiting for the someone.
When the someone comes along, the feeling will be foreign and new and beautiful.
He just needs to find them.