:Heya! This is the first song of the album; warnings for panic attacks, mental fuckery, mental illness, hallucinating; all the fun stuff. This one really gave me a hard time; I'm still not too happy with it but it's better than nothing.:
1; Meds.
Ichigo feels the dry scrape of lips against the back of his neck; papery and cold and rough with peeling skin. He freezes; mind immediately turning over his memories of that morning with delicate precision, and he swallows a nasty curse. He focuses on the dry heat in the air; grounding himself as he thinks out his next steps carefully. He's being tailed- one of the groups of lowlife thugs that like to get their asses kicked; for all they antagonise him. They're clinging to him about a block and a half back, and he immediately ducks away; down side streets and less densely populated areas until he finds a small alley; dead-end side street.
Baby, did you forget to take your meds?
He hopes he's lost them; because there are three ways this will go down and from the clues so far it's going the way he wouldn't wish upon his worst enemies. That; or he'll be a sitting duck for their tender mercies. He texts Chad quickly, 'I forgot my meds this morning', and tells him about the group of thugs that might still be searching him out. His head spins suddenly and his vision blurs nauseatingly. When it clears he finds himself lying on the cobblestone ground, thankfully relatively clean. He scrabbles for his discarded messenger bag, searching hopefully for his little container of pills, but he's not exactly surprise to find he's left it on his bedside table at home. His phone pings; Chad's probably replied but he can't quite be bothered to reach for it.
... Trying my best not to forget, what happened to us, what happened to me.
He feels the mouth slide along his skin again, curved in a grin; and he can't see anything, eyes staring straight up at the blue sky, but the skin of his throat prickles in the wake of it's passing. He focuses on his surroundings fervently, counting clouds and letting the scent of sun-warmed stone and brick flood his mind. He counts each breath, focusing next on the bend of his ribs and the swell of his chest.
He blinks and is surrounded on all sides, shoes pressed in around the lines of his splayed form and he's hyperventilating now, a sea of faces staring down at him.
I was confused by the powers that be, forgetting names and faces. Passers by, were looking at me, as if they could erase it.
They murmur, the susurration pressing at his ears and it's mocking, though he doesn't know what they're saying. The lips press to his pulse point and they feel like decay. He's probably screaming, on the outside, because no matter how real this feels it's all in his head.
"Aw, King, you haven't let me out in ages! Those pills you're always popping are such a downer, you know? It's like trying to talk through a steel door and soundproofing. Don't you miss our little chats?" The decaying lips mouth against his ear now and Ichigo thrashes; futile in his attempts to get away.
"You're not allowed out!" He snarls- he wants this to stop right now, damn it all- and when it does he blinks, startled. That never works. He gathers up his stuff, shoving scattered papers and his phone back into the bag and booking it out of the alley as faces start bubbling up from the cobblestone and the pavement and the brick houses that he passes with their white picket fences. They're grotesque, and he hates this, so he moves faster, long legs eating up the distance home. He recoils when the feeling of mouths- many, many dry paper mouths start dragging over the skin of his hands like a swarm of ants- and he scratches, ignoring the expressions the faces that move and push from everything around him pull as he passes, ignoring the worried looks of the few humans he passes as well. These things shouldn't be so liquid, shouldn't be turning to bastardized forms of human features- and it's unnerving. He's still hyperventilating, can't grasp the composure needed to regulate his breathing.
Baby...did you forget to take your meds?
Baby...did you forget to take your meds?
He's in a maelstrom of panic now, the mouth whispering at his ear even as equally dry papery hands claw at his ribs through his shirt. He needs to get away- run run run, and he tumbles through the front door of his house, avoiding Isshin more by desperate luck than seeing it coming. His father is instantly worried, understandably, because Ichigo is lying on the floor and sobbing, one of the faces in the polished wood laughing at him as cold hands shove at his neck, grinding his cheekbone against the hard floor.
What happened as I let it slip.
He's vaguely aware of pills sliding down his throat as his father helps him take them, but he's too out of it to make sense of the words the man speaks. Ichigo is firmly entrenched in fear; everything muffled and sluggish as he scratches, scratches, scratches at his hands. 'King, King, my useless scared little King' is a mantra in his head, the dry lips repeating it, mocking and cruel. He feels stripped down through to his bones and splintered.
Trying my best not to forget, all manner of joy, all manner of glee,
and our one heroic pledge. How it mattered to us, how it mattered to me,
and the consequences. I was confused... Forgetting if i meant it.
When he finally passes into blissful unconsciousness it's a blessed escape from the faces and whispers and unwelcome touches.
He wakes to the calm of his room, bandages and ice packs on his hands, and he winces when he moves them. He berates himself- he never forgets to take his meds. He hasn't forgotten for years and as a result is completely unprepared for a full-on episode.
He supposes he's just lucky he didn't have his breakdown until after school. God knows how that would have ended. He probably would have lashed out and hurt someone on accident.
He licks his lips and pulls a face. His whole body feels sore, and he vaguely recalls thrashing and flailing in the alleyway, which would explain why he feels like a living bruise. He always ends up scratching his hands to hell and back, so that's no surprise. He used to scratch his neck, too, leaving red welts.
He feels ashamed of himself, now. Ashamed for putting his father and Chad through the worry of him having an attack- Chad especially must be very concerned; Ichigo hadn't even checked his phone again- the consequences of this will probably be pretty bad. Isshin will be watching him like a hawk for at least a month, Chad will be on edge and wary and protective rolled into one, and Ichigo suddenly feels very tired again. His emotions are flaring wildly- and he finds sleep is probably the answer he's looking for in this circumstance. He can face his problems and his meds tomorrow.