AN: March 7 - Sorry it's not a real update! I know, I know…but I thought I should leave a note to anyone reading that I'm going to be away from computers for a bit, so the next update might take a little bit longer, but I definitely haven't disappeared. Even if it comes kicking and screaming, I shall finish this story in all it's low-reviewed glory! (Reviews would be awesome, for sure. But I'll update as soon as I can even if there aren't any new ones.)
Sena knew he had needed sleep, but he hadn't realized how much. He had thought about getting some cleaning or eating done, or even doing some homework. Instead, he had fallen asleep as soon as he got home from practice, which had been around five-thirty. It was now midnight, and he was still feeling a slight urge to lie back in bed to sleep, but Sena resisted it. His first clear thought was that he was never getting up for school in the morning at this rate, but then he remembered that he didn't have to; he wasn't going to school tomorrow. That's what he told everyone already, so no one would be shocked.
But that didn't mean they were going to be happy. Specifically, Hiruma wasn't going to be happy. Sena already knew that. He just wasn't sure what he was going to do about it, to resolve whatever had been spawned during yesterday's catastrophe. The whole thing was giving Sena a massive headache, on top of the lingering one from the night before. A half-hearted attempt to rub it out through his temples didn't work, so instead he resumed his previous day's pondering of the subject. Hiruma was usually so straightforward, but the argument yesterday left Sena disconcerted.
Present on Hiruma's face had been anger, lots of it, as well as a few other vague emotions, that part was clear to Sena. But as is the case with many conflicts, Sena wasn't sure of the 'why'. Not only did he want to know why Hiruma had been so irritated, but why he had been even more irritated when Sena tried to lay Hiruma's concerns down to rest. If it wasn't going to affect Sena's football game, what more was there to it?
Sena groaned. The whole situation had gone from fatiguing, but simple, to fatiguing and complex. Before the argument with Hiruma, he just had to make sure no one knew about the injuries he had been inflicting on himself, which had been nerve-wracking and tiring, but it had been a simple plan to execute. Now, he not only had to continue hiding it, but he had to deal with Hiruma. And it wasn't just regular, gun toting, swearing Hiruma either.
Hiruma was on a warpath. The mental image of Hiruma chasing Sena, yelling "Fucking Chibi!" sent his heart racing and made him a little light-headed. Sena wondered about the dizziness, because he had just gotten quite a few hours of sleep. Ah, right, food. He had no food in his system. Food was the key to energy. Right.
Yet he couldn't make himself go and eat. In his current state, eating was a struggle, and it made him feel even sicker than he already did. Sena cringed. He already knew from the attempt to get something down earlier today. As well, it wasn't exactly on the top of his priorities list. The slight feeling of dizziness was a bit bothersome, but Sena was drinking water and he did eat some cereal this morning. Hopefully a day off would provoke his appetite a bit more.
Sena decided, instead of worrying about Hiruma and fussing over his lack of appetite, to finish up the homework that should've been handed in earlier at school. He walked over to search through his bag for the textbooks necessary, and knocked himself on the forehead. So, so stupid. He had forgotten about the bandages he had tossed in his backpack. They would've been useful before, when he was rushing to stop his legs from bleeding before football practice.
Shaking his head at his stupidity, he pulled out the worksheets and the textbooks to begin working at the complex equations. He wasn't very good at it, but he had found that if he worked hard and watched himself for minor mistakes, he could keep up a pretty decent grade.
However, as he looked at the papers filled with numbers and symbols, he just couldn't do it. He tried to go through the steps, using the shortcuts and tips the teacher had given them, and tried to do them, but for each equation he struggled evem to set them up. He squinted his eyes, sat in different positions, turned on a desk light, but nothing seemed to be helping.
He had been doing all right with this math unit before, but he couldn't understand why it was so much trouble right now. Maybe the teacher was right, and he wasn't good enough for the class, maybe not even good enough for Deimon high school. He had barely made it through the entrance exams. When he came that first day to check his number, he was just barely above the 'rejected' line. Perhaps it was his destiny to be idiotic.
Sena tossed his pencil with frustration, letting out a little groan of disgust. Homework was getting the better of him. Hiruma was winning, the teacher was winning, and even the part of himself that Sena wished to vanish forever was getting the better of him.
This was worse than elementary and junior high. At least then, he could have said that it was easier to be pathetic than to get beat up for standing up to the assholes. But now, it was simple things like homework pushing him over the edge. All he had to do was finish it, but he couldn't even get started.
Sena let his head drop to the desk, savouring the collision of his forehead on hardwood, eyes watering, which he blamed completely on the stinging of his forehead. The liquid leaking out of his eyes had nothing to do with the self-loathing that was starting to become natural to Sena. Besides, the slight pain on his head was much easier to comprehend than anything else so far, including complicated math problems, and even more complicated team captains.
Sena turned off the desk light, and walked over to lie down on his bed. Wiping at his eyes with a hand, he considered his options. He could try sleeping again, but he was incredibly worked up over both the homework and his thoughts about Hiruma. He could go try to do the homework again, but if hadn't been able to start it now, he probably wouldn't be any better in five minutes. He could eat, but his stomach was still twisting and turning uncomfortably.
However, why not try to fix the appetite problem? Force himself to have an appetite? With new persistence, Sena decided he'd go run for a bit. He wouldn't be testing himself, but just running at a more relaxed speed. It was late, but if a stranger with unlawful intentions approached him, Sena could easily sprint away. It was his specialty, his only one, but it was useful enough for some occasions.
Sena tried to ignore the fact that running away from things was his one talent.
Sena was still in his football clothes, and didn't bother to change. He was going to smell bad either way, so he figured it was better to not mess up a clean set of clothes. He grabbed a key, locked the door, and ran outside into the pitch-black night. The asphalt streets reflected orange lights, and as he started running down the sidewalk, his eyes followed the shadows formed by the unnatural lights.
As he ran away from one light, his shadow would shorten until he started approaching a new light, and then would stretch behind him. If he focused too much on it, it became almost hypnotic. Sena shook his head and looked forward, and realized he was starting to approach the downtown area of the city. He hadn't realized how long he had been running. Hypnotic lights indeed.
Here, there was much more activity than back in the area he lived, which was already asleep. The skyscrapers all had lights around their logos and their roofs, giving this part of the city an almost ethereal glow. Sena paused to take his breath in, something itching at the back of his mind. He should remember something about skyscrapers. It was only something he had heard in passing – it had been a warning, but he couldn't remember what it was.
Sena turned back to start running home again. If he continued much farther, he'd start getting into the area of the city that high school students really shouldn't be. There would be nightclubs and bars and a few patrons that probably wouldn't appreciate a scrawny boy in unclean track pants. Just because Sena could run away didn't mean he should provoke such incidents. Definitely time to get home.
As his breathing was becoming more than a little laboured, Sena reached his house. The air was tearing in and out of Sena's throat, drying out his mouth. Running like this didn't usually leave him so tired, despite the fact that he was a sprinter, not an endurance runner. He was sure it was now around one or one-thirty in the morning, and he felt tired enough to fall asleep, having completely forgotten that he set out to increase his appetite.
He stepped into the house, and wondered why everything was a little bit blurry. He blinked his eyes a few times, thinking they too were dry, and reached back to lock the door. It wouldn't do to have someone break in now, not after he had just avoided any criminals in a late-night jog.
Sena started moving towards the stairs, but his legs felt like lead, and everything was getting a little bit blurrier with each step. He surmised that he was much more tired than he had previously realized, and figured that would explain the lead-filled legs and the diminishing vision. It also explained why he stumbled on the first step of the stairs, and passed out.
There was a knocking at the door. Someone was knocking. Sena blinked a few times, muscles not responding well to moving. It seemed that everything from his neck to his knees were sore and unyielding. He woke up quite quickly when he realized he was lying on the stairs, the door only a few metres away, and the person knocking persistently a few more inches after that.
As he stood up, he stumbled to the ground, one of his legs numb, and most definitely not as awake as Sena was. Sena instantly started panicking, realizing he had collapsed on the stairs last night, exhausted, and still in his running clothes. He wanted to cry, as pitiful as that was, and hide. What the hell was wrong with him? It wasn't normal to pass out after runs, and it wasn't normal to cut your legs up on a daily basis. God, why couldn't he be normal?
And someone was still knocking at the door, furiously.
"One…one moment. Just a second!" Sena's voice was hoarse, and cracked on the first try. He cleared his throat, and shook the leg, desperately trying to get it working. He then rubbed his eyes, working on the crust of sleep, and tried to slow his breathing down. There was a mirror in the living room. How did he look? Sena knew the answer, but he wanted to know exactly how bad it was. And so, he ran into the living room.
He looked awful. With that awareness, he got a feeling of déjà vu…Sunday. On Sunday, he had looked in the mirror, and had come to the same realization. Nothing had changed. And he was as ill-prepared to deal with strangers then as he was now. Doing his best to smooth out his shirt and pants, as well as his hair, he ran back to the main hallway, and knocked his shoes into a corner behind the door. Whoever was at the door started knocking again, even more impatient than before.
"Please, just a moment. I'll be right there." Sena did his best to conjure up a loud voice, but realized he failed. His voice didn't leave any emotion uncovered. Sena could hear the sadness, the desperation, and worst of all, the fear in his voice. He started sweating, panicking, wondering whom it was. What if someone from the school came by to inquire about his unexcused absence?
Resting a hand on his chest, he fully realized how hard his heart was beating. It was unnatural after just waking up. Sena was once again hit by dizziness, but then admonished himself for being easily distracted. He needed to deal with whomever was at the door, then worry about the dizziness later. Once more smoothing his hair, he walked over to the door, unlocked it, and pulled it open.
Standing there was a blonde-haired, green-eyed demon captain. Sena felt ready to collapse. His mouth hung open, as a very small voice in his mind made him aware of the shit luck he had. Hiruma was standing at his door, in the golden sun of the fading afternoon, framing him, staring back at the shocked running back. It was almost ethereal, in a way that frightened Sena. He took a step backwards, and Hiruma took his own few steps into the house. His face was stony as he looked at Sena.
"Ahh…ah, Hiruma…?" Sena couldn't keep the astonishment out of his just-awakened voice, both at the fact that Hiruma was here, and at the awful, awful luck Sena had. Hiruma was the worst person Sena could've seen at this moment, the very worst. There was no position Sena could have been in that left him more vulnerable than this.
"Not a very good host, are you, pipsqueak?" Hiruma raised an eyebrow at Sena, waiting for a response. Sena jumped at the words, waving Hiruma into the living room and took the opportunity to run in the kitchen to find something to offer Hiruma. The artificial light of the refrigerator hit Sena as he tugged open the door and yanked out a jug of fruit juice, all while trying to compose himself enough to meet Hiruma, face to face.
It was going to be a battle, both against his…problem, and Hiruma. Sena winced, knowing that both were at an advantage right now. He should've known how much worse this could have become. He had really thought it was bad before. In almost any other circumstances, Sena would've laughed at how naïve that idea had been. In these circumstances, however…Sena just didn't have the energy, or the happiness to laugh. The metaphorical tank was empty, running on nothing.
He zipped back out into the living room with a glass and the fruit juice, and poured some for Hiruma, doing his best not to spill it all over. His hands were shaking, almost violently, but he succeeded. Good.
"Aren't going to have any, fucking shrimp? Looks like you need it." Hiruma didn't touch the glass, but did sit down on one of the sofas in the living room, eyes not moving from Sena. Sena paled a little bit at Hiruma's blunt disposition, but said nothing. He stood there as Hiruma just stared at him for a while, waiting for him to crack. After a few moments, Sena couldn't handle it. His vision was starting to tunnel, the outlines of everything getting darker, mouth becoming dry, and knew he needed to get away.
"Hiruma, I, ah, need to have a shower. The remote is to your right if you get bored or anything." Sena flinched a bit when his voice broke once more, as he had only gotten up a few minutes before. Hiruma said nothing, but continued to glare at Sena. Not expecting anything else, Sena turned to make his way to the stairs and up to the shower, but paused as Hiruma started speaking.
"You didn't shower last night, after you went running?" Sena felt his heart rate skip, his muscles freeze, his stomach drop, and a cold sweat break out at the comment. How could he know?
That's what he had forgotten. Hiruma loved skyscrapers. He loved spying. He had seen Sena last night. The same voice in the back of Sena's head reminded that his luck wasn't just awful, it was hellish. Without turning, Sena replied.
"I was quite tired afterwards, so I just went straight to bed." No use denying it. Sena's breath was coming too quick now, and it could be heard. He was surprised the neighbours didn't come complaining. Sena couldn't control it. The air rushed past his lips, to the point where he might've been panting from a good workout. He barely finished the sentence.
"On the stairs?" At that question, Sena had to reach out to the railing of the stairs to keep standing. Of course, Hiruma had looked in through the windows by the door. They were rippled, and the door was at an angle to the stairs, but he had probably seen Sena's arm or leg. Or, maybe he hadn't…Sena wouldn't admit to anything this time.
"Ha…whatever you say, Hiruma." Sena knew that he was full of crap, and Hiruma knew it too, but Sena couldn't just agree with Hiruma. He had to put up a fight. Before Hiruma could say anything else, Sena ran upstairs. At the top, he had to pause for his breath. He was still so tired. He probably could've slept for another eight hours. Or cried for that amount of time. Either/or.
Running into his room, he grabbed a spare towel hanging off his closet door. As well, he reached for a certain box from inside his dresser. Sena was giving up on the idea of trying to ignore the urge. He knew he'd need it, and wouldn't be able to fight it, just as he couldn't fight Hiruma. Might as well plan ahead, so that he wouldn't have to rush out of the shower, screaming for it, alerting Hiruma to his sick habit.
With the two necessary items, he ran to the bathroom, and locked the door. He was not going to take any risks. The last thing he needed was Hiruma deciding he wanted to observe Sena, and to see everything; every last scar and cut, with the bruising only a forcefully inflicted wound could make.
As the water started heating up, he pulled the lid off the small cardboard container. Inside lay his salvation, his trump card in his struggle with life. An exacto knife. Pristine plastic casing held it, with soft contours for the easiest grip. The case wasn't necessary. When Sena needed to carve up his body, he would've held the blade bare. It wouldn't matter anyway; if he were slicing up his thigh, why would he care about his hand?
The sharp metal reflected the cool bathroom lights rather pleasantly. It would help Sena now, more than ever. It would help him relax, give him enough energy, enough relief to go downstairs and win against Hiruma. Sena needed to feel it now, sinking into his body, hurting him, snapping the delicate connections of microscopic veins and making his nerves sing with the pain. Making him suffer.
Sena took it with him into the shower. He still needed to clean off all of the dried sweat and grime from the last two days, but he'd hurt himself after, so the clean-up process would be shorter. The water would wash away most of the blood, and he'd only have to take care of whatever came out of him in the moments between stepping out of the shower and putting on a bandage.
It was sick how well prepared he was to do something so vile.
With shaking hands, he rubbed the soap all over his body, scouring everywhere, including his thighs. He raked his nails over the day-old cuts, and winced as the soap reached the open wounds and burned. The water at his feet quickly turned pink.
However, just like it hadn't been enough in the bathroom at school, this wasn't enough. Tears were waiting to fall out, and the stress was still clawing at his mind, screwing over whatever rational thinking ability he had left. Until those things went away, it wasn't enough. He'd hurt himself until it was enough. Oh, he wanted so much more than just imagining it, but he needed to finish cleaning first. He quickly rubbed a generic shampoo into his hair, scrubbing at his scalp and hair, cleansing himself of the filth.
With a release of a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, the cleaning was finished. He was presentable. He was also shaking. Oh, how badly he wanted this. And now…now he could do it. After waiting for what seemed like ages of scrubbing, he could hurt himself. He grabbed the exacto knife, and searched for a place he could hurt himself. There was still some untouched space on his legs, still clean of the ghastly red lesions.
He had to sit down in the shower stall, because his muscles were going weak at the thought. The bent knees in front of him were shaking, hitting each other periodically, uncontrollably. He wanted this so badly. His eyes shut for a moment, helping to control his breathing a bit more. He wouldn't let his excitement ruin the actual moment. With that preparation, he opened his eyes, and started.
On the side of his upper thigh, he pressed the point of the exacto knife down, not moving it in any other direction. It pierced the skin, but it was only a small blip on Sena's radar. He wanted much more than that. He pushed it down a little bit harder, finding just the right level in his flesh. A small driblet of blood welled up, but it was nothing compared to what was to come. Sena was practically tearing up in impatience.
With that perfect level of pressure, he pulled the exacto knife down the side of his leg, nearly yelling out at the pain. Blood instantly came to the surface, the cut gaping. It looked unreal, like a slashed canvas or a torn up shirt. He let the water run over it, and he could see the white tissue of the skin, and the tunnels of the minor veins he had cut into. As the shock of the cutting motion faded away, more blood came up through the cut, enough so that the water wasn't washing it as fast as it was running out. Sena released a breath he had been holding in anticipation, and unclenched his teeth. It was the deepest cut he had ever made, and it was the headiest rush he had ever felt.
Sitting there, as the hot water ran over him, Sena was almost able to forget the fact that Hiruma was sitting just a floor below him, waiting for him. Sena didn't even feel scared or nervous, although his heart was still racing. The air seemed to ooze in and out of Sena, almost viscous, and despite the heat racing over his skin, Sena had the sensation of being cold. A little strange, but he liked it.
The exacto knife fell out of his hands as he continued to lay there, his eyelids at half-mast. With his hands resting limply on either side of him, smears of blood were washed away. Even if he the panic came back when he faced Hiruma, Sena knew he would be better off. He had cleaned both his body and his mind in that shower. It was going to be okay.
Having not completely forgotten about Hiruma, Sena turned off the water, the cut still bleeding quite badly. It was nothing life threatening, Sena knew that, but it would be messy if he didn't take care of it. He stepped out of the shower, the change in heart rate sending more blood down his leg. Grabbing some rubbing alcohol, he disinfected the cut while continually having to wipe streaks of blood away. There were at least four or five lumps of bloody toilet paper before Sena was able to move onto the next step.
To help stop the bleeding, he applied a liberal amount of antibiotic ointment on the cut. He then folded a few pieces of gauze into a thicker square and placed it on the cut, and kept it there with a few adhesive bandages. For the rest of the oozing, smaller injuries, he swiped a thin layer of the ointment over them as well. He winced at the throbbing pain he felt from the newest gash. It spread so much farther than the thigh. Every time his heart beat, he could feel it everywhere. It hurt so much.
Sena wrapped a towel around his waist, and leisurely made his way to his room. He searched through the pile of clothes in his room to find something to wear that would not draw attention to the slight bulge of the gauze on his leg.
A pair of plain black pants, a little on the baggy side, would do just fine. He found an equally suitable, clean, dark blue shirt to wear. Nothing too special, and nothing that would make Hiruma focus on his body. Sena took his time changing, savouring the clean feeling of a post-shower skin on cloth. He didn't feel dizzy, or nauseous, and he was almost happy. But not quite, because that small voice of rationality reminded him that he was cutting himself up to find relief. It wasn't right. Sena drowned it out as best he could.
The realistic part of Sena knew that relaxed mindset would change once he had to face Hiruma, but he was going to enjoy these few moments of rest from everything. Once finished dressing and mussing with his hair, he knew that he could no longer stall.
He had to go face Hiruma.
AN: The glorious reviewers!
SailorSaturntheSilencer: Never say that much? You might as well stick me with a needle full of love, I'm so happy. I don't know how you guys could get any nicer. There'll be a few more confrontations, I think. Sena's pretty dead-set in his ways. As well as some squicky scenes. Alas, in real life, problems don't vanish with love. (Except for reviewer love. That's a whole different (foot)ball game.) Bad pun, bad pun! Sorry. But thank you!
Crazyb1tch85: Oh, goodness me. I did a five-minute dance when I got your review. No exaggeration, I timed it. Poor Sena is going to go through quite a few more struggles, but Hiruma's got some tricks up his sleeve. Oh, I know about the warm-cuddly side (Lunapokema rawks!) but it'll take a little bit more. You'll see. I'm doing Hiruma well? Sena's good? I think you just put off my heart attack for another few weeks. You have prolonged my life. My thanks!
White Ivy: Timeline? Oh, those timelines. Unfortunately, I'll have to place it in a vague, semi-AU timeline, as if the Death March had never started. It's around March in the story (you'll see why! I have a reason.) and besides that, everything else is the same. Thank you for the reminder! Oh, Sena has a ways to go, but he'll have some help.
hentai-monkey: That makes me very happy to hear that you like it a lot. The review really means a lot. I'm going to do my very best to keep the characters in character for the story, and to make the story realistic. And you're right on the set-up. I will definitely continue this story to the end! (No author-disappearances here!)
Aoi-sama: Cute? That's the first time I've looked at it that way, but it is kind of cute (if you ignore the whole awful cause behind the worry). I know I'm a meanie. But at the same time, I'm cuddling a happy-Sena for the end. Happy-ish, anyway.
akuma-river: I might just have to start using 'coolsa' now. I'm glad you love it, and thank you for the alert! I get giddy when that type of thing happens. Hopping up and down, swinging my kitten around, starting fan art: I do the whole shebam. Thank you so much!
