A/n: * Chuckles dryly, Ah...I have some problems, Only five chap. in and already off to create another one, I just couldn't help it though! Before my readers from the khr fic burn me in their righteous fury let me get this out too... ...one piece...ahaha...I just couldn't help it...I'm excited for the TG fic and the OP, not to say I'm not for this one or the khr one.
Warnings: Its rated M, need I say more? Expect anything, constant vigilance! Grey!oc. (I'll not forgo the trigger warnings though.) and canon divergence.
Disclaimer: Naurto belongs to Kishimoto, not me.
And please read the note at the end of the chapter, a very vital information you need to know about the story is given there, no boring a/n's, I swear. Now, I hope you'll enjoy reading.
#[panic attacks, self blame, unhealthy coping mechanism, self harm];
Fluidity of time.
Where...
Heavy lids blinked.
Once, twice, and then for the third time, still the oppressing darkness remained persistently stubborn.
A blackout? he mentally sighed.
He closed his eyes, a groan followed a queasy feeling, sleep will do him some good, yeah...sleep sounds good.
...
Bleary eyes peeled themselves open again, few slow blinks followed the rapid ones in hopes of clearing the veil of absolute darkness.
Eyeballs rolled around lazily in their sockets, head lolling to take it all in, squinted eyes widened as they failed to find the ever-present darker shillouetes in the room. He then tiredly rubbed his eyes to relieve the strain after several more wasted efforts.
Weird...exactly how long has he been sleeping for?
He heaved himself up but then stopped cold, eyes widening, he mutely flexed his fingers, wiggled his toes, his mouth parted in shock, unabashedly he tried again, fingers clawed and the balls of his feet dug at empty air.
what?-
Body twitching at the faint weightlessness, his head snapped left and right, limbs flailing around to-
what!?-
Forget the bed! There's literally no ground!
Panic seeped into his veins, thrumming and slithering around lazily, humming that ever pleasant jizt that had his taut stomach churning.
Is he mid-air? But wher-how?-
Through the steadily increasing haze of cold trepidation, a thought floated through his mind about the absence of air.
Anxious eyes started darting around wildly at the thought, fear starting to drill a slow brutal hole as he gasped an unsteady breath through clenched teeth, shaky hands flying to clutch at his chest through -damp and soggy- cloth.
A lump lodged at his throat as he hacked on empty air -no, no, no air, there's no air- his frantically heaving chest started to hurt, lungs feeling heavily bruised, throat uncomfortably dry -no, no, stop it, there's air, there's air! don't panic!- the body slowed in their frenzy as he chanted that thought feverently like a mantra.
His throat bobbed as he gulped down heavy, uneven breaths to prove the thought to his unsubordinate body.
A few tearfull blinks later, he glanced around warily as he tried to get his bearings intact.
Whatthefuckwhat-no- thefuck- Okay, okay, calm, deep breaths, see? there's air, calm..
He took in more unsteady breaths as he tried to clear his mind, tried to distance himself from his body.
There's air, but no rushing winds slapping at him to consider free-falling, but that doesn't change the fact that he's mid-air ( he checked, no strings or ropes or even chains attached to any part of his body, nor is there any sturdy ground anywhere near him but neither can he move from where he stood, flail around, yes, but he's stuck at the same place. ) Maybe mid-air is not the appropriate word here, it's more like he's suspended in a 'stagnant' air.
That...doesn't make any kind of sense. At all.
His hands flew around hurriedly as to pat all around his body, everything is there, four limbs, twenty fingers, an attached head with other correct organs between his shoulder, everything is as it is, just a bit wet, everything's fi -wait what? wet? why's he wet? he wasn'- Now that he thinks about it, his skin feels a bit cool, with small water patches culminated here and there, though otherwise dry everything else is sopping wet.
His hands reached out for the stomach area again, certain that the level of stickiness was different there than the other areas.
Something...something...doesn't feel right..
His nostrils flared as sniffed at his forefinger from a careful distance in the darkness. No smell? He flicked his tongue out and lapped at them without thinking and without any hesitation. Thick brows scrunching as his tongue poked out again to lick the finger clean yet still came up as tasteless as plain water.
Panic bubbled close to his skin as he realized he couldn't hear anything, not a buzz, not a whirr, not even a distant hum, absolutely nothing...just like...just like his other senses...
He furiously doused the flickering ember of fear, no, calm, calm, his touch is good, he can still feel...yeah..calm, keep yourself calm, long and steady breaths..
A hand slipped inside his t-shirt, fingers skimming the expanse of cool surface, prodding around tentatively, eyes narrowing as they met raised skin, which softened to a wet gelatinous texture as they trailed inwards, no pain, just a distant numbness that flared when prodded more forcefully along with fingers getting wet and sticky as thick rivulets of wet streams sluggishly crawled down the skin. After a short pause, bony fingers continued their ministries, searching for the end and starting trail, it started from just above his navel then curved sideways and around the backside of his left hip bone.
He nonchalantly took his hand out, then cleaned them on his pants cloth, throat bobbing as he swallowed thickly.
Something...really...wasn't right..
A sudden lethargy made him blink a heavy blink, startled.
His breathing shallow and even, as his consciousness started to fade he couldn't stop but think about how his blood felt ice cold rather than warm.
He would have shuddered at what the thought entailed if not for his mind dismissing all of this as nothing but a nonsensical dream.
He never felt such an overwhelming amount of dread...(- not even then).
Frantic Eyeballs danced behind closed lids, he was awake with a blanket of heavy lethargy weighing him down, sinking it's cold claws down to his very soul, he strained his ear to a considerably painful level to take in the usual sounds of his neighborhood, the sound of the city; blaring horns and irritable hollers to get the traffic moving, thundering and soft whirrs of various engines, Soft and heavy thuds of footsteps, Barks or Chirps of stray dogs and common birds around the area, anything really.
But all he could hear was eerie silence.
Just like...just lik-
Closed lids snapped open, vacant eyes glancing around wildly.
Just like before, just like the...dream?
Don't panic, don't, don't you dare you fucking coward.
Brows pinching worriedly he tried to think just what exactly he did before he found himself in this predicament, pushing past the previously subdued but now an alarming amount of distress/horror to his psyche.
What was different?
Wet, snatched of all his senses except for touch, wounded, cold rather than warm and possibly coagulated blood. Even with touch, no burning pain only numbness, sudden bout of tiredness? More now than before.
Okay, okay, now that the status is out of the way, what about the before? why's there no memory of how he got here in the first place?
A thought idly crossed his mind but he frantically discarded it in favor of the less precautionary one, that how odd it was for him to experience no pain but still being able to feel touch.
The thought didn't relieve him of his hysteria as he felt thick and cold liquid pour out from the numb skin were his teeth were feverishly chewing on his chapped and apparently now 'broken' bottom lip.
At this rate he could have chewed on it for who knows how long and wouldn't even notice when he left it all shredded up-
He clutched a fistful of coarse hair then yanked, hard, hard enough to break some of it, it seems. Man, when did he get so fragile?
Still...no pain...no sudden influx of memories either, only more of the bone deep exhaustion.
Is he dying? or is he already dead? he thought as he considered the blind horror/denial then the breathless distress at the undeniable credibility of the proof -hisdeaddeadDeadDeAdHEART- , after a few slow blinks his eyes slid shut, mind heavy with fervent prayers of let-it-be-a-dream-let-this-all-be-only-a-nightmare-oh-let-it-be-a-dream's.
He doesn't understand.
He simply doesn't understand.
Nothing makes sense. Odd. Odd. So ODD.
He was tired, so so tired, tired of the ever present darkness, tired of the thick fucking non-existent stone stuck between his throat, the size of a truck. Tired of the oppressing silence weighing his whole body down the more the time passes, even if his mind is never, ever, quiet, still...he hopes... for all of it to just stop.
This is all so fucking messed up.
He crossed his arms against his chest and dug his fingers into the cool flesh of the inside of his elbows.
It's okay, doesn't matter, forget it, forget all about it, doesn't matter, he thought, why would it matter, you deserve being dead, stay dead, like dead dead, like, like, like an undead, but why, why me? ha, what a joke, Did you seriously ask that asshole? you Know WH- okay, o-kay, calm, calm, calm the fucking down you shit-head- he inhaled then exhaled then again inhaled and let out another exhale then inhaled, ufph, then let it out in a phiz, well, he imagines that's how it sounded, how would a deaf and a fucking mute like a certain someone would know? I don't, maybe, no-yes, fuck, do you know now?, huh? do you? huh!?
-dig, dig, dig, dig, di- he let out a low groan, mhm..he did, even if there was no sound, mhm hmm he did, cause ya know, he had a healthy pair working ears...Had.
One part of his brain rambled nonsensical logistics like, like, you guessed it, like he was the ei-fucking-stein. Does it even matter? patience, patience, everything comes to an end, nothing is forever, no? this will come to an end too, everything comes to an end, all in due time.
Another cooed, go now, have a nice little nap, it will do you some good, you'll be as good as new then, well , as good as one can manage after being left dead, pathetically existing, miserably alone in this purgatory hell-not-really-hell, but still there, all in one (not fully functional, more like barely functional ) piece.
-dig, dig, dig, wet, cold, dig on the dug, dig, slimy, wet, di-
And the more insistent part of his -deAdDeAd- brain whisper-shouts, the one who is plain stupid, an utter dumb shit, emotions and all, stilted and thoroughly unhelpful and thus completely unnecessary,OhmygodI'mGonnaDieNOI'mDEADButNotTheUnresponsivebrainlessZomBiEdeadbutTheI'mDeaDErThanDEADohoHOHMAiGwaad.
He could feel everything expanding, then narrowing, fingers clawed at his chest, he couldn't breathe, not again- wheezing, hacking, can't breathe, fuck, no, No, Calm, calm, not again dammit, wheeze, choke, cough.
His fists staggered forward limply, with clutch full of coarse-dead hair, cold pooled his scalp, -when?- he heaved another big gulp - okay, okay, good, happy thoughts, no?, fuck, no bad thoughts then, no bad thoughts- he loosened his fingers, they were so stiff, like rigor mortise stiff, -uh uh, bad, no bad, no bad thoughts- heave, inhale, inhale, out-outhale, hmm no, exhale, yeah, exhale.
Why does he have panic attacks when he's supposedly to be dead? cruel, so so cruel, is this the compensation for not being able to feel pain? cruel, still cruel, he'd rather be able to feel, the bad, the good (If there is any).
He gave in to the lethargy when it tugged at his consciousness, it seemed hell'uva like a reprieve right then.
He was too tired to fight it anyways. (For now)
He jolted awake from his eternal awake-yet-asleep state when he felt a sudden sense of urgency to everything.
He could literally 'feel' the world tilting.
He didn't appreciate the sudden disorientation he felt soon after.
The kind you felt after hanging upside-down for hours, which in his case, can't be determined, at all, then suddenly without any warning he's falling and not just a clean fall, but the Bungee jumping kind, tilting and rolling, wind slashing at him with enough force to bring tears not just in his eyes but to dry them just as quickly.
Now, let it not be said that he wasn't excited. He was, (after all this time he was actually moving now) but with an healthy amount of wariness.
Which all but lasted for maybe five seconds.
Where would he go now? -hell, hell, helHEL- Mouth stretching and neck straining in a soundless screech, he doesn't feel good, he doesn't feel good.
It was an unconscious action, when he slapped his hands atop his mouth hurriedly to stop the bile from rising, even when he knew that there wasn't anything to come out from his stomach.
His body settled with dry heaving.
••
He stretched even as he continued to fall.
After the initial panic wore off, he was getting kind of antsy, there was a weird feeling fluttering inside of him, a hint of anticipation, a fair amount of dread and wariness with a dash of excitement for something different, something new.
He struggled with lethargy even as he zoned out, it was a constant struggle these days, one which he lost more often than not.
See, he knew this wouldn't be forever, nothing is for the matter, he thought.
This never happened, it was a change, whether it be a nice one is yet to be determined though.
He chuckled dryly at the thought, yes, it has to yet be seen eh? hmm you have to have a working set of eyes for that won't you? his laugh turned mocking at the last thought.
His head lolled to one side as he eyed the fluttering piece of wispy yet limpy dark threads for hair in front of him.
Ahh... maybe you are on your 'Great fall' to the eternal ocean of liquid fire, that's waiting to embrace 'blackened to the soul sinners' as a permanent guest, Your turn is just looming around, you remember why, don't you? Remember? They said you would not even have a place in the seventh ring of the hell, I wonder...were they wrong? Remember? Rememberrrrr? Do you remember he-
He chuckled again, though no one was there to call out on him, if it was a bit wet this time.
What the fuck, Jammie...after all this time-
His eyes snapped back to the fluttering piece, brows slowly but steadily scrunching up -I can see...I can see? I...I can see!?- His eyes glanced around frantically, it was lighter than before, it was still dark, but it was starting to take on a grey edge, as if...as if...as if there was light flitting in from somewhere.
Lethargy forgotten, dilated pupils searched around for the source, right, left, up, down, down?, down! His eyes squinted at the source, what...what is that?
The darkness was opening up to a bright...void, the tear was not in any way, neat, it was like a vacuum twisting inwards.
The young man sees this and all he can think is 'I'm going to be sucked up into that blackness.' With a cry Jamie follows, dimly aware of how a foreign voice rang behind him.
In the glow of starlight, and nearly non-decipherable and broken shimmering metals, he sees a pair of vibrant purple ringed orbs with furiously rotating thick black commas hovering before him, it takes him a moment to realize that those were a set of eyes, a curiously familiar set of eyes, mouth half opened and eyes open wide, he stood frozen, not even heeding the fact to how his body felt high (alive) on conflict, struggling to grasp an understanding.
The young man tries to use the newly recovered threads of life in him to move towards them, for what exactly, he doesn't know.
All he knows is that, something in him is completely mesmerized by those strange orbs, he doesn't know where that came from either, he can't pin point it, but he knows without a doubt that...this was, most certainly not the first time he saw those eyes.
He has to go closer, He needs to reach it, he especially yearns to touch it..
It is the only plan he has, but as he tries to implement it, something sucks him backwards.
The man looks down in an irrational panic. A renegade band of blackness has caught him, effectively making him immobile and breaking him out of his inexpiable rapture of star struckedness. He looks back up for an instant and sees plain grayness.
Where...actually what?
Suddenly there is a flash of color, and then he is blinded by sunlight, no, not sunlight, gasping in cold and sterile air then promptly shoved forward as something soft yet firm thumps down on his whole back.
This fic was inspired from koe no katachi anime, if you haven't seen it, no worries, but I do recommend you to as a fellow otaku.
And by inspired I don't mean any type of crossover, nor would there be any character from that anime, purely naruto and my oc, then what hm? well, the main oc has a similar background to the mc of k.o.k, -gasp- yes...he was a former bully, that's it, and I put emphasis on former, this is going to be a really realistic fic (as much as I dare, at least), and realistic and naruto? Dark, it's not necessarily a really dark fic, as this is a fix-it fic, kind of, but I'll stress on the fact that this is not for the faint of heart.
Hmm...what am I missing? Oh well, I'm sure I will let you know... when I remember..if I remember.
Please don't be shy to review your thoughts, review with guest ones or simply drop a p.m If you are uncomfortable. Or well, simply don't, I would be happy ya just read it and expect more updates.