Chapter 2 - Saving Blue
When I open my eyes, my senses are suddenly assaulted by the unbearably bright morning outside. Harsh yellow light spills from the small window above my bed. A short moment of bittersweet peace washes through my body, one long second of silence. I use the sudden purity as motivation to sit up.
But that's all it takes, and yesterday comes crashing down on me. The aches, the sadness, the desperation...
The blood.
Nothing seems real right now. The room spins around me. Is this what it's like to be drunk? Did I have alcohol last night? If that was the case, wouldn't I have a hangover now?
The memories of last night are smudged together. I can't remember much.
Not that I want to remember.
I finger the dried blood caked on my neck. I never cleaned the cuts, but they closed up anyway. No thanks to my mother, my father, my sister.
Time is my savior, I guess. It really is the only constant.
I press my hands into the cuts. My cold, bony fingers wrap around my throat, cooling the feverish skin. I don't remember being sick.
Shivers runs down my spine, making my entire body tremble. I feel so small, so insignificant, so terrified. The room closes in on me. My breathing turns shallow.
Well. Time for school, I guess.
I throw on a ratty t-shirt and some shorts. A cheery logo throttles my torso, using the tattered white cloth to endorse some long-forgotten product. I stare in the mirror, and my eyes are immediately drawn to my reflection's disgusting mess of a neck. The coagulated blood runs up and down thin skin, webs of sickly veins glowing behind muddy scarlet. I attempt to scratch some off, and manage to dig a nail into the deepest cut, a huge curdled mass of blood at the base of my neck. Pain shoots up and down my arm. I start to choke on the feeling.
But it's so... Satisfying.
After being a half-ass and deciding to cover the scabs with a scarf, I make my way to school. Quick, quick, out the room, down the stairs, clear the threshold, fly off the doorstep.
Houses blur by, I feel like I'm floating. My mind shoots out of my body. I soar over houses, straight past the school, into the sky, up and up and up and OUT.
Stars bathe my feather-like body, warmth kissing pale skin. I drift on and on. Hours seem to pass.
"HEY, FUCKTARD! MOVE!" Someone slams into me. I trip, fall out of space, and end up straight on my backside.
Welcome back to Earth, Len Kagamine. Here's your present. You'll never guess what I got you! C'mon, guess! Guess!
No. Wrong. I got you motherfucking PAIN. Like it; or fucking KILL YOURSELF, you shitty emo TWAT.
Huh.
The voices in my head hate me. Not only that, but they seem to be freakishly bipolar and sarcastic.
Whatever.
I don't remember walking to my locker. But here I am. Oh well. I guess it happens. I'm sure this happens to EVERYONE. Right?
I accidentally slam the locker door on my hand.
Ow.
Maybe...
I should do it again-
"Nice scarf, faggot."
Oh. Oh no. No. No. No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no.
"You don't mind if I borrow this, do you?"
And with that, I'm gone. My body erases itself.
A loud gasp resonates in front of me. The wall of fabric is ripped from my neck, tearing scabs from broken skin, raw flesh clings desperately to edges of the wounds. Dehydrated blood gives way to it's brighter crimson heir. My body starts to wither, to crack, and so does the world around me.
"H..Hu-... I-..." My lips move of their own accord. They draw themselves open, closed, open, and finally tightened back into my mouth like they'd been stung by candied sap of a lemon. I swallow my lips, letting the rest of my awareness follow. Once again, I am far above, looking down at my pitiful being as it struggles to cover the re-opened wounds on it's throat.
"F-Fuck... Y-You... Fuckin' little emo shit..." The assaulter backs up, disbelief sucking out their bravado. Their body unwilling mirrors my own, pain shooting into their eyes, hands held up and shaking. I smile warmly. It's nice to see such sympathy, although reflexive.
What a pitiful display. The broken, tainted, and bloody child, attempting a smile. Such a doleful curve of the lips.
This is absolute hell.
"Just... G-GO KILL YOURSELF!"
What a cliche. If only.
The assaulter runs off.
It's such a normal occurrence now.
Is it really that easy? To leave?
Even if you don't know me?
Even if you don't understand?
Do they never think about me?
Am I even in their thoughts as they run?
Am I in their memories?
Am I in their hearts?
Am I even in my own?
Home.
Dare I even think such a word?
How can this be home? I barely recognize it. I've lived here for my entire life, but am unable to sustain a constant mental picture.
Who cares?
All I know, is that this is my room. Even if it's not mine, it's mine. Even though that makes no sense, it's mine, and it's all I have.
It's all I have, and I hate it.
My eyes scroll up and down the computer screen. It's a terrible old thing, with a connection gleaned off the neighbor's wifi. Hacked into, back when I actually had the time and energy to care about my entertainment. Now, it just serves as a boon for my lack of purpose.
Music fills my ears, crackling through old-timey headphones I discovered in the garbage next to the music room at school. Supposedly, these things had such low quality, the music teacher spiked them in the rubbish bin.
Well, he didn't think anyone was watching when he did.
Of course. I was there.
And now I don't have to worry about my family scrutinizing my music taste. Hooray.
I look through my music. The playlist is filled by underground bands and songs, classical music, tons of acoustic covers, and complete collections of albums, with the occasional popular melody I may have happened to hear on the radio. None of it makes sense. None of it's sorted.
And all of its boring.
I search through site after site, listen to anthem after lyric after tune. Nothing is working. Nothing is numbing the pain anymore. I can't drown out the background noise, no matter how loud I turn up the volume, no matter how obnoxious the beat.
Rock. Alternative. Pop. Metal. Country. Blue grass. Folk. Classical. Jazz. Techno. Trance. Blues. Funk. Hip-hop. Rap. Indie. Grunge. Rave. Ska.
J-Pop?
Oh. It's in Japanese.
I can't understand any of this. There are so many goddamned colors. It's making my dizzy.
At least it's different. But I can't turn up the sound. Cranking such a high voice would make my fragile headphones obliterate themselves.
There are a lot of these songs.
A lot.
Too many.
It there something... Not so jumpy?
This one's a little better. A little deeper.
Good. Darker colors.
Where am I even going?
I think I've lost myself.
Ichi-banme arisu was isamashiku~
...
Ken wo katate ni, fushigi no kuni~
...Huh?
Ironna was monowo kiri sutete~
...What is this?
Makkana michiwo shiite itta~
I pause the player.
I think...
I've just discovered it.
Sonna Arisu wa morino ou~
Tsumibito no youni, tojikome rarete~
Morini dekita michi igai ni~
Kanojyono seiwo shiru subewa nashi~
And then, all my world implodes.
Ni-banme Arisu wa otonashiku
Utawo utatte, fushigi no kuni
Ironna otowo afure sasete
Kurutta sekaiwo umidashita
Sonna Arisu wa, barano hana
Ikareta otoko ni, uchi korosarete
Makkana hanawo ichi-rin sakase
Minnani mederare karete-yuku.
The beauty of these foreign words hurts me to my very core. As my screen flashes with death and destruction, of perfect figures of humans dancing round the bloody corpses, my eyes are trained to the mysterious second singer. One, killed by a madman. Annihilated by his own madness.
The blue one.
I look into the unreal eyes of cerulean diamond, and I see something I've never seen before.
I see myself.
I see the raw image.
And I see an emotion, unnamed in its own right, seep from those unruly irises of mystery.
And I sense a desire, unlike any I've felt before.
I must have him. I must have this. I must speak with and live by him, his family, and his perfect being.
The song goes onto its own playlist.
A/N: If you can't already tell, this story isn't going to be pleasant.
The lyrics are romaji from Alice Of Human Sacrifice.
The first verse is Meiko, the second is Kaito.
If you've never heard it before, please listen! Though it's somewhat disturbing.
