NOTE TO PEOPLE: A specail thank you to hetalia-deathnote-kuroshitsuji for inspiring me to write this fic. Thank you.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Sometimes i question if it even worth dealing with people. I mean they throw around the phrases 'i know' and 'i understand' so much when they obvously don't know or understand whats going in your life as they try and give you advice that you know isn't going to work or even apply to your situation. it's stupid. if they don't get it they say that they don't get it it's that simple.
I put the pen down on the paper of my diary(i know its stupid i'm an 18 year old boy who has a diary) looking at the words with a feeling of satifaction before closing it and putting the pen to my skin for the second time today. Its not that ii'm putting anything bad on my skin they're just butterflies on my left wrist over the scars that are still ever prominant there from when i use to cut myself before i starting drawing butterfies there instead as part of the butterfly project. though i still can't bring myself to throw away my razor blades.(its a slow process but at least i'm trying to stop) i trace the lines carefully making them nice and dark on my slighly pale skin making sure not to smuge them before thinking what to name this one. the first one is already named after my prussian friend gilbert. i think carefully of who else would miss me if i were to kill myself before settling on my on/off boyfriend Lars. so i put the pen under the butterfly i just drew and write his name nice and neat in cursive.(people have always said that my handwriting was girlly and now i see why as i look at the small fuffy lettering written on my arm in blue pen) I put the pen down and look at my handy work I've gotten good at drawing butterflies now and they kind of look three dimentional with the scars. I can't help but to think back to all those times i cut myself before I knew about the project and it strangely comforts me to know that the only reason I don't cut anymore is because my brother Alfred found the butterfly project for me after he found my razor blades and saw the scars. I really need to thank him so I get up out my desk chair and open the door to my room right as my father(Francis) is about knock on it.
"Mathieu. There you are. I was looking for you."
"Here I am." I say dumbly as I put my left hand up in a sort of hello.
"Mathieu! What is that pen doing on your wrist?" He shouts in what can be discribed as mock horror being mellodramatic as he always is.
"Its nontoxic pen and they are butterflies." I try to go around him so I can talk to my brother but he blocks me from leaving.
"Why is it on you in the first place draw on paper not your skin,cher. Come with me and we'll wash that of right now." He grabs my other wrist and drags me tword the bathroom.
"They are there because I put them there and we can't wash them off otherwise you will kill them." I try to fight back but he has always been stonger than me.(which isn't hard seeing as I'm not really all that strong and I don't really fight either seeing as I'm a passifist)
"You can draw new ones ones mon petite. New ones that are paper or something that isn't you skin."
"No. They need to be on my skin on my wrist. If I wash them off my butterflies will die." I half wined hoping he would just drop the topic because I really didn't want to have to explain how I use to cut myself and how now I draw butterflies when I feel like cutting. He definately wouldn't understand why I had to cut and how this was my way of starting to fix my cutting.
"Mathieu they are pen they are not real so they can not die. Now wash those silly things off your wrist right now." I look around realizing he had accutally gotten me into the bathroom without me noticeing the secenery change.
"But they can die. They die if i wash them away before they fade on there own or if you cut them." I put my hand over my mouth the second I realize what I had just let slip out and I pray that he didn't get that I was implying that I cut myself.
"And why would we be cutting them if they are on your skin?" I really wish he hadn't caught onto what I had said and I meantally kick myself for it.
"I don't know." I lie another thing I'm not too good at. Now I can only hope he doesn't know I'm lieing or for my brother to come over and save me from my own bad lie and having to explain to him everything that happened to get to the point of butterflies. As he looks at me I know that I'm not going to be able to get away with not telling him everything and I can't hear my brother anywhere nearby so I know that I'm doomed.
"Mathieu." he gives me that tone that says I know you are lieing and you have three seconds to tell me the truth before you get punished. I sigh and look down at the floor not wanting to meet his eyes because I know that once I tell him the truth he is going to be disapointed in me and shocked and that is never a good combination for him. I take one more breath before I say the words that I know will get me in some amount of trouble.
"Well you would be cutting your skin because you are depressed, suiciadal, crazy, anything really." I try to talk myself out of this situation and I don't think its working based on the look on his face.
"But why would you?" that wasn't the counter that I wanted to hear from him.
"I wouldn't." it's not a complete lie I won't cut if I ccan still draw butterflies on my wrist.
"Then why are they on your skin?"
"Well they're on my wrist because..." I'm loosing this fight.
"Because each one is how many hugs he gets when I find him!" thank god for my brother I really owe him now. The lookon my fathers face is one of confustion but I can't tell if its directed at the lie my brother came up with or just directed at him in general.
"Come on Mattie its hug time." he drags me out of the bathroom and into his room where we wait for the sound of my father going down stairs before he says anything.
"Cutting that one close bro."
"I know."
"You going to be okay?"
"...Yeah I think so." I smile at him and he can tell that for the first time in a long time I'm truely happy.
"Good cuz we are going to get through this cutting thing together."
"Then I think I know where to start." I walk back into my room and get my razor blades and bring them back with me into my brothers room to hold up to show him.
"Dude you still have those I thought you said you got rid of them."
"I lied but I'm going to get rid of them right now." I walk over to his trash can and drop them in and a part of me feels better now that they are gone and all I have left is to go and get better.
"Are you going to be okay without them?"
"Yeah cuz I have you watching out for me." And for the fist time I feel like I can accutally beat my depression and move on with my life. One step at a time with the help of my brother to guide me there and maybe one day once I beat this I'll tell my father the truth about the butterflies because they are my butterflies and they will set me free.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Bon App tit: this isn't how I orginally planned the ending at all but I think I like it better this way. and I'm very happy with the way this came out it's alittle cheesy a the end but thats okay cuz not all bad or sad stories have bad or sad endings if your strong and can turn it into a good ending and fix it. If you have any better ideas for an ending please let me know.