FALLEN
CHAPTER 4 Ð TOURNIQUET
Anime the Fallen Angel
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"You sure you'll be alright, Omi?
"Hai! You guys go on. If the old lady needs any help, I'll help her. You guys go on your holiday.
Ken frowned a little, not taken in completely by Omi's false smile and pale face. Yohji honked his horn again, impatient. Ken nodded and signalled to Yohji that he'd be a minute. Ken turned to Omi again.
"Okay, so the old lady would take on all the shifts from now on until Yohji and I get back. And you know she won't check the flat, but don't take it as an excuse to trash the place. You don't have to work at all for the next two weeks. I went shopping yesterday, so there's plenty of food in the place. The number of the beach...
"Ken-kun! I'm not a kid! You're starting to sound like my Uncle Suichi.
Ken laughed at the observation and patted Omi on the shoulder. "Gomen. Well, I suppose I can trust you to take care of yourself...
The car horn blasted again, Yohji's voice following. "Hidaka! The chibi can take care of himself! Now hurry up before I drive off and leave you behind!
"Hai, Yohji! In a minute. Anyway, the number to the beach house Yohji's girlfriend is letting us use is by the phone. Call us if anything happens. And don't strain yourself now that the holidays are here, you need to...
The screech of tyres alerted Ken and Omi. Ken yelled and shouted for Yohji to stop and wait for him. Omi, laughing and waving his work and room mates off, turned and walked through the back entrance of the Koneko flat, making his way to the apartments above. He hardly shut the door to the living area before his smile faded and he sat alone in the quiet room, a cup of coffee in his hands. The heat of the liquid hardly help him at all. In fact, it accented how much he longed for human warmth and contact by him.
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I tried to kill the pain
But only brought more
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Night fell, but Omi didn't care, now sitting in darkness. Sometime later, Omi grabbed his long empty cup and ventured into the kitchen. The bright light blinded him as the kitchen switch was flicked up. Moving like a zombie, Omi washed the mug and made a sandwich. Almost unnoticeably, he nicked his finger with the knife. He watched as the small cut welled up in red, the little dome of fluid shining and reflecting his face. Omi shut his eyes, faintly thinking about the night before.
Why doesn't he care? Why? Maybe I was right; I'm turning gay, and he isn't. I probably scared him off. But did he have to be so cold, regardless? Maybe I should've told him the truth. That I was more than fascinated... I'm going to regret ever meeting up with him for the rest of my life now... I shouldn't have gotten involved in this in the first place!
Omi frowned at his cut finger. The little nick only allowed a single drop of red fall; no more, no less. Only, that little drop didn't feel enough.
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I lay dying
And I'm pouring crimson regret and betrayal
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Omi hardly ate his bloodied sandwich. Instead, he binned half of it uneaten and went his pre-programmed way to his room. Sitting on the floor, Omi stared at the little collection he had in front of him, thinking.
Why!? Why should I feel like this!? This isn't fair. Why me!? WHY ME!? Why should I feel this!? Why should I lose people I care for? Uncle Suichi, Kaasan, Oaka!? Why did they have to die!? And Tanaka; why did I ever trust him!? Or my father for that matter!? Why why why!?
As he thought each why, Omi had picked up the small fruit knife and reopened the cut on his finger, watching the little dome of blood spring up again.
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I'm dying praying bleeding and screaming
Am I too lost to be saved
Am I too lost?
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I don't deserve this life! What have I ever done to deserve it? Why? What's the whole purpose of all of this!? WHY!?
Hot burning tears fell down Omi's face as he made another tiny cut under the first cut, forcing more blood out of this one. The red simply mingled with the tears that fell on the finger earlier and made a little path down his hand onto the floor.
Why....? Why God? Why? Why did you have to do this to me? Take away those I trusted and loved. Make me meet this... this uncaring, selfish, cold.... beautiful man... and make me care for him!? Where in Hell is the point in that!?
Omi continued his silent tirade as he cried. Discarding the fruit knife temporarily, Omi curled up and cried.
I can't take this anymore. I can't... I just can't... I want to escape. I want to rid myself of all this!! Omi wiped his eyes and stared at nothing. What am I doing.... Cutting my finger like this... and what are all these things doing in front of me... What was I thinking? He isn't worth all this. Am I really doing this because of him? How stupid. He wouldn't care anyway. Why should he? He made that very clear. Give it up, Omi. Get over it. He isn't worth MY blood.
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My God
My tourniquet
Return to me salvation
My God
My tourniquet
Return to me salvation
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Sighing, Omi reached down to pick up the other, sharper knife he brought into his room, wanting to put it away. He isn't worth... "AH!" Omi winced, holding onto his hand. Without thinking, he had grabbed the blade rather than the handle. Now a line of thick blood had sprung up to escape; shining in the moonlit room of Omi's. Omi's breath didn't slow from the adrenaline as he stared at the perfect line of crimson across his palm. A thought occurred to Omi as he stared at the slit.
It hurt... It hurt... but it made me forget. I forgot I was hurting inside...
Tentatively, Omi lifted the knife with the bloodied edge. Nervously, he leaned the sharp edge against the skin of his forearm. I shouldn't do this... I shouldn't do this. I shouldn't do this. Ishouldn'tdothis....
"AH! Kuso...
More tears of pain sprung up as Omi slid the knife across his arm. Blood welled up in the fresh wound. Omi fought back his choke of tears and stared at the cut he just made, staring at it, wondering why he did it.
Why....? I'm so stupid. Nothing is worth this. Nothing. Nothing nothing nothing! I shouldn't be cutting myself. I should be studying. I should be taking a bath then going to bed! I should be watching TV! Anything but this...
Omi continued staring at the blood. Omi's mind swam as he watched it quiver whilst he shook. As his mind wandered in the mist of confusion, Omi's eyes started to water, forming the image of the one person he didn't want to see; the one whose hair almost matches the colour of his blood. Aya... Aya's eyes just looked at Omi in disdain before Omi gasped in realisation and blinked, erasing the image from his mind. Angrily, Omi growled, gripping the knife harder.
Are you happy now, Aya!? You thought I was weak. You thought I was pathetic. Would someone like that be holding a knife and cutting themselves!? Would they!?.
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Do you remember me
Lost for so long
Will you be on the other side
Or will you forget me
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"ARE YOU HAPPY NOW AYA!?" Omi screamed in his room, anger and pain overtaking
him. The blood from his arm seeped
away from the cut and explored the surrounding area before drying. Unsatisfied, Omi turned his arm over,
exposing the veins that were so close to the surface of his skin. So vulnerable. So full of red anger...
God forgive me...
"AH!!!!
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I'm dying praying bleeding and screaming
Am I too lost to be saved
Am I too lost?
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Omi gasped, letting his tears flow. His wrist now shone with red in the moonlight. Shuddering and shivering, Omi gazed down at the slash; half satisfied with the pain it gave that distracted him. The crimson formed a lake, then river, and then a dripping waterfall as it stained the carpet. Omi cried silently to himself, holding onto the knife. The blood flow slowed. Omi noticed and wasn't willing to give up.
Grabbing the leather coat strap that came from his own jacket, Omi wrapped it tightly around the top of his slash, the leather pressing against the previous cut. Omi hissed in pain, satisfied with how it hurt.
The more it hurts on the outside, the less it does on the inside. Makes sense. Makes perfect sense. Why didn't I do this before?
Omi tied the strap, now tightly wound around his arm, biting into his flesh. The make-shift tourniquet forced blood out of his wrist, making it pour more readily. Clenching his arm, Omi brought the knife up to make another cut, to cause more pain. Surprised, Omi found the knife feeling heavier than normal. Ignoring it, he managed to raise the knife and made another cut, forcing a gasping cry from him.
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My God
My tourniquet
Return to me salvation
My God
My tourniquet
Return to me salvation
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Leaning against the wall, Omi's hair started sticking to his forehead. When did it get so hot in here? And how did I get so weak? I can't even sit up properly anymore... What am I doing....
Omi's eyes flickered to the stain on his carpet. The red was drying now, making its mark forever in his room. Omi shuddered as fresh tears sprung up to flow down his face. I'm so pathetic... but what can I do now? No one here cares.... maybe it's best if I leave. Why should someone like me stay around? I should've died a long time ago...
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My wounds cry for the grave
My soul cries for deliverance
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A sigh of cool air hit Omi in the face, making him open his eyes. His vision swam with sweat, sudden fatigue and tears. But he could still make out someone in his room, climbing through the window. Tall, lean, staring down at him. A familiar stare. Disdain? No...
Aya...?
The figure bent down and held Omi's face, making him look at him. Aya's violet eyes glowed angrily. Omi didn't have the strength to register the look.
"What were you thinking!? Is anything really worth killing yourself over!?" Aya hissed.
Omi tried speaking, but only managed tired, incoherent mumbles as he tried vainly to push Aya away. Aya's face seemed to soften. With surprising gentleness, Aya undid the tourniquet, making Omi's blood flow naturally. Next, Aya removed his shirt, using it to wrap the bloody arm. Omi couldn't help but stare through half open eyes at the smooth chest of the man who caused him such pain. He felt himself gently falling towards it. His whole body relaxed as he was lifted from the floor and carried to his bed, his head leaning into the bare skin of the chest. Aya's flesh was cool, Omi found.
Gently, Omi was lowered onto the bed. For the next few hours, Aya had cleaned Omi's wounds, bandaging them and helping Omi into some night clothes. Omi frowned at one point at Aya.
"Wh....why?
Aya's violet eyes met Omi's blue. "I can't stand people who commit suicide over me.
Omi's eyes shut slowly as darkness crept into his mind, making him exhausted.
"You're always stopping me... trying to... make me hate you.... now you save me......
"Maybe you were right, then. You were the first person to dare say I cared kid.
"....Omi...... call me Omi...
"......
"I hate you.
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Will I be denied Christ
Tourniquet
My suicide
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Anime: Oh God!!! I can't believe I nearly killed Omi-kun!
Trowa: ...
Anime: *whimpers* As an angst muse, you scare me with your talent, Tro.
Trowa: *shrugs* You said you wanted angst...
Anime: *sigh* Hai hai... Oh! And before I forget, I wish to introduce two more muses in my steadily increasing team. I bring you Ashling Corby!
Ashling: *smiles and waves* Hey.
Anime: Songfic muse and a singing vampire! Perfect! Down side is, Anya is refusing to come anywhere near this... Oh, and last but not least, Quinn Owen Calhoun! Irish heart-throb and all round flirty type o' guy!
Quinn: Top o' the mornin' to ya. *wink*
Anime: ^_^ No official muse role, but here purely to keep me happy. I do so love the Irish!