Trigger warning
Past Kise….
Kise went home after club activities. He wasn't able to play one on one with Aomine everyday, so he had to go home and bare the loneliness.
The loneliness.
The abandonment
The self-loathing
All of it.
Had he lost himself? Had he gone mad? Does he even have an explanation anymore.
The feelings...the hurt…the sadness...the pain...he wanted to put it into words.
He wanted to scream
He wanted to yell
Yet, he was completely incapable of it all.
Kise dropped his bag in a designated spot and walked to his room. The lights were dim, he made no effort to turn them on, since the darkness no longer bothered him.
It had become a habit.
A disgusting habit…
It wasn't painful..
The habit…
Was so easy to hide…
that it hardly affected anyone
It hardly affected anyone, except Kise. The only person that got hurt, was Kise. So it didn't matter. It never matters if he was the one who was hurt.
Kise rolled his sleeves up and closed his eyes, he let his fingertips dance over the bumps on his arms. Letting them lead the way up and down his arms. He felt the ones that were healing, he felt the ones that had scared, he felt the ones that still stung and bled from time to time. He felt it all.
Yet.
He still.
Can't feel anything.
The pain, he can't feel it. The way it cuts, doesn't hurt.
Tears started to fall. They didn't have time to grow before it was time for them to fall. They tears scraped down Kise's cheeks as they quickly dried, only to be replaced.
"It doesn't hurt."
"It doesn't hurt!"
"I want it to hurt! I need it to hurt!"
What do you call it?
What do you call a person who has gone over the edge?
What do you call a pain that does not hurt?
What do you call this feeling?
What is it?
Tell me.
I want to know.
Kise ripped his dresser door open and quickly grabbed the two centimeter blade. Quickly grabbed. Because its position was so easily memorized.
What is hesitation? Hesitation is for those who are uncertain, those who are afraid, those aren't ready.
Kise, Kise wasn't hesitant.
Kise quickly pushed the blade out from its protecting shell and went for his arm.
Cutting roughly.
Cutting mercilessly.
It doesn't hurt.
It can't hurt.
Cause nothing hurts more.
Then what happened before.
The blood spilled out of Kise's arms, slowly, in separate organized lines. The blood and the tears clashed together, but soon enough, soaked into Kise's school clothes.
The same routine.
I'm sorry.
I'm so sorry.
I'm disgusting.
I'm horrible.
I'm stupid.
I'm useless.
I'm a burden.
I'm sorry.
I know.
But please….
Kise lifted his head up, showing his face to the dark, cold, empty room. Cold? Was it the room that was cold? Or was it him…
Was the lack of blood finally getting to him. Was the protection of the adrenaline finally breaking.
Do you realize what you have done to yourself? DO YOU REALIZE WHAT YOU HAVE DONE! DO YOU REALIZE HOW DISGUSTING YOU ARE!
"Do I realize what I've done?"
Kise stood up slowly and walked to the kitchen. He let the cold water wash away everything on his arm.
Pretending that everything that flooded into the sink wasn't just his blood but instead his sorrow, his worry, his sadness, his guilt.
I suppose all the emotions wash away, don't they, Kise?
All the emotions.
Even happiness.
Kise walked back into his dark room and changed his blood stained pants and shirt. After changing, he quickly went to cover the wounds with a thick amount of gauze.
"Even happiness."
Kise headed back to his bed when he felt his toes collide with something wet. He slowly looked down at what it was.
Puddles.
Puddles of his own blood.
To what extent.
To what extent would break him?
To what extent would he have to go, to finally break?
To what extent?