I'm Not Crazy, Just a Little Unwell.
Warnings: Rated PG13 for difficult situations, m/m relationships, kidnapping, insanity, and for Angsty!Yoh, damnit. _;
Yoh looked around at his surroundings, a lack of expression on his face. His eyes were vacant, soft and brown as they always were, but lacking the shine that once emitted from every molecule of his being. One girl was sitting in a corner, trembling, muttering something about the demon in her mind, the demon that she had to destroy, the demon that had brought her to attempt to stab her head with a knife. A small young man, about two feet taller than his 'Manta' and looking very much like him, was sitting there, just reading. That's how it somehow seemed here. Everything was calm. Everything was an uproar. You fell asleep, sounds of people crying echoing through the white halls. The place flowed with negative energy, troubled ghosts that had clung desperately to the place that they had taken their last breath.
Most, if not all, were suicide victims. People that had killed themselves, that had gone mad, and were dead before anyone could've stopped them. He shivered inwardly, knowing that he could still see them...that is, if he'd wanted to. The boy who could see ghosts. The boy who could talk to ghosts. This was him. He was the one with a sixth sense for the unnatural. The one who was known at school till he graduated as the boy who talked to himself in the hallways, acted as if he was with another person...while carrying a mortuary tablet of all things! They'd passed it off as a mere quirk, necrophilia or something of the sort. Or perhaps, just perhaps, he was just crazy.
But this was proven when they saw it. Scratches upon scratches, scars upon scars. He'd worked himself as hard as he could. And for what? Nothing. Oh, he'd said that he had become "Shaman King". He said that he had killed his twin brother, when in fact, in the records, it was never noted that he had anything remotely resembling a twin. Said that he'd had a best friend, went to a school and was passed off as somewhat NORMAL, somewhat ordinary, something new and different. He said that he had a fiancée, a beautiful blonde young lady, that had trained him. Trained him to be something. And he would've married her...had it not been for that he had fallen in love already with his best friend. Asakura Yoh had pictures. Pictures of all these random people, a picture of a barren wasteland in the middle of the United States that he'd said was the 'Patch Village', the place where this imaginary tournament had taken place.
But the worst of all was when he'd scream. Scream in his dreams, scream about all the people that had died. Imaginary people. Names that had no meaning, no structure to anything relevant. He'd cry late at night, wondering why no one believed when he told them this story. Telling them, that everyone had left him. Anna had been the first to leave, claiming that he didn't exactly need her now that the Shaman King tournament was over with and they weren't going to get married anyway. Ren and Horo had mysteriously disappeared together, though they called later to say that they had run away to avoid their parents' wrath when they found out that they were living together. Amidamaru had gone with Mosuke, happy that Yoh and Manta were happy together. The others just sort of dropped off, got married, and just...left him alone. Even Manta, who was the last to leave. Even the one person he had believed, among all people, was really there. Manta had been taken away from him, he knew. After all...it wasn't every day that your best friend and lover just decided to disappear, without a trace, without a notice, without a call...his house was completely empty when he had tried to look for him.
He waited for six months, expecting a letter or a postcard or even a phone call, telling Yoh that he was safe and sound. This was what bothered him the most...there WAS nothing. He would jump up and answer the door at any given moment, neighbors coming over to offer their grievances and to tell him that he was going to be okay. Yeah. Right. He'd just smile and accept their condolences and company, and then shutting the door, going back up to his room to sleep. That was all he had done, for six whole months. Sleep the hours away, sometimes for many days at a time. He rarely ate, and that was only when neighbors brought over a bunch of food and made him eat. Six months later, and he looked terrible, his hair and clothes always disheveled, and his face always bland and expressionless.
It was then, that he felt like Manta would never come back.
It was then, that he felt like the world, everyone who had once been important to him, had turned its back on him.
It was then that he decided that he would take his life.
Warnings: Rated PG13 for difficult situations, m/m relationships, kidnapping, insanity, and for Angsty!Yoh, damnit. _;
Yoh looked around at his surroundings, a lack of expression on his face. His eyes were vacant, soft and brown as they always were, but lacking the shine that once emitted from every molecule of his being. One girl was sitting in a corner, trembling, muttering something about the demon in her mind, the demon that she had to destroy, the demon that had brought her to attempt to stab her head with a knife. A small young man, about two feet taller than his 'Manta' and looking very much like him, was sitting there, just reading. That's how it somehow seemed here. Everything was calm. Everything was an uproar. You fell asleep, sounds of people crying echoing through the white halls. The place flowed with negative energy, troubled ghosts that had clung desperately to the place that they had taken their last breath.
Most, if not all, were suicide victims. People that had killed themselves, that had gone mad, and were dead before anyone could've stopped them. He shivered inwardly, knowing that he could still see them...that is, if he'd wanted to. The boy who could see ghosts. The boy who could talk to ghosts. This was him. He was the one with a sixth sense for the unnatural. The one who was known at school till he graduated as the boy who talked to himself in the hallways, acted as if he was with another person...while carrying a mortuary tablet of all things! They'd passed it off as a mere quirk, necrophilia or something of the sort. Or perhaps, just perhaps, he was just crazy.
But this was proven when they saw it. Scratches upon scratches, scars upon scars. He'd worked himself as hard as he could. And for what? Nothing. Oh, he'd said that he had become "Shaman King". He said that he had killed his twin brother, when in fact, in the records, it was never noted that he had anything remotely resembling a twin. Said that he'd had a best friend, went to a school and was passed off as somewhat NORMAL, somewhat ordinary, something new and different. He said that he had a fiancée, a beautiful blonde young lady, that had trained him. Trained him to be something. And he would've married her...had it not been for that he had fallen in love already with his best friend. Asakura Yoh had pictures. Pictures of all these random people, a picture of a barren wasteland in the middle of the United States that he'd said was the 'Patch Village', the place where this imaginary tournament had taken place.
But the worst of all was when he'd scream. Scream in his dreams, scream about all the people that had died. Imaginary people. Names that had no meaning, no structure to anything relevant. He'd cry late at night, wondering why no one believed when he told them this story. Telling them, that everyone had left him. Anna had been the first to leave, claiming that he didn't exactly need her now that the Shaman King tournament was over with and they weren't going to get married anyway. Ren and Horo had mysteriously disappeared together, though they called later to say that they had run away to avoid their parents' wrath when they found out that they were living together. Amidamaru had gone with Mosuke, happy that Yoh and Manta were happy together. The others just sort of dropped off, got married, and just...left him alone. Even Manta, who was the last to leave. Even the one person he had believed, among all people, was really there. Manta had been taken away from him, he knew. After all...it wasn't every day that your best friend and lover just decided to disappear, without a trace, without a notice, without a call...his house was completely empty when he had tried to look for him.
He waited for six months, expecting a letter or a postcard or even a phone call, telling Yoh that he was safe and sound. This was what bothered him the most...there WAS nothing. He would jump up and answer the door at any given moment, neighbors coming over to offer their grievances and to tell him that he was going to be okay. Yeah. Right. He'd just smile and accept their condolences and company, and then shutting the door, going back up to his room to sleep. That was all he had done, for six whole months. Sleep the hours away, sometimes for many days at a time. He rarely ate, and that was only when neighbors brought over a bunch of food and made him eat. Six months later, and he looked terrible, his hair and clothes always disheveled, and his face always bland and expressionless.
It was then, that he felt like Manta would never come back.
It was then, that he felt like the world, everyone who had once been important to him, had turned its back on him.
It was then that he decided that he would take his life.