HAHAHA I KNEW YOU'D DIE WITH THAT LAST LINE! I DID TOO XDDD
Anyway, Karma relapsed, which in my opinion is something that always happens. I sometimes relapse as well, even after months of being clean. It just comes, bugs you and doesn't leave until you give in. Or until someone makes you forget. However, we aren't always that lucky. Or we just don't allow ourselves to be lucky. It's sad, but it's the truth.
Alright, I know I will break hearts of some of you, but I have to declare that this fanfiction will be done in about one or two more chapters. It's just that the main point finally unraveled itself and stories should never be longer than they need to be. They would lose their charm otherwise, after all.
I hope you enjoy this chapter :)
He was thirteen when he first heard the term "self-harm". Maybe it was from the social media where some kids posted photos with awkward captions of "how much they were suffering". Or maybe he read it somewhere. Who knows. But what is for sure, he found such thing extremely disgusting, believing that it was only for attention. Yet it never left his mind - wasn't it ridiculous? The claim that pain could make someone feel better? The thought of hurting oneself was outrageous, but that might have also been why it struck him as so interesting.
Thirteen years was a strange age. It was the year that when you reached, you could be officially called a "teenager", (though his hormones have been going wild for some time already). It was also the so called the darkest era of human life - either you did the most embarrassing thing, or you made the worst choice ever, or both.
In his case, it was second.
And till this day, he regrets it.
Nights were tricky. Nights were dangerous. They always brought the demons we have been trying to suppress back. Sometimes, we won. Sometimes, we didn't. And Karma had the misfortune of the latter.
It was a particularly beautiful night - ironically - with gentle snow falling, colorful lights decoring the streets and cheerful voices singing. December 25th, his birthday. And the day he hated the most. If not for the fact that he never asked to be born, then for the fact that apparently, no one seemed to have wanted him to be born either.
He was sitting on the bathroom floor, knees to his chin and drowning in the silence.
Not even one phone call.
Not even a letter.
Nothing.
The room was chilly, and for some reason, it worsened the feeling of emptiness in him. He was bored. Of sitting there, of being unable to even cry. He was so bored of this all. He needed anything to stimulate him. Anything at all.
That's when he remembered that he had a razor in the cupboard. Pain to relieve pain, was it? So he thought he'd give it. Why not? What was there to stop him? What did he have to lose? Surely nothing he valued.
At first, it was just a shallow, short line. Yes, it was more of a scratch than any form of purposeful way of hurting oneself. It stung a bit, only at the beginning, but the pain slowly dissipated until there was the strange feeling of accomplishment.
He liked it.
And that was the moment he lost.
The second time he cut, he did so in blinding rage. Once he returned home, he threw his school bag violently, crushing an ugly vase. He hated it anyway. But the shards it left were something different. They were sharp, they were promising, they called to him.
And that idiot was so weak he succumbed. Frustration and anger took over and before he even had a second to reconsider, he slashed his wrist with a piece of the vase. The wound was therefore clean and deep, bleeding heavily. He got slightly scared when dizziness hit him, but god, has anything ever felt better? It was the first time he understood the word "euphoria".
Now wasn't any different.
After resisting so long, the first cut was hesitant but more than anything else guilty and regretful. He did his best to stay strong. Asano did his best to help. And yet, here he sat, giving up on himself once again.
Over and over again.
As one cut became two and two became three, he forgot everything heaving his mind and only focused on the blood seeping from his skin. It was nice. It was warm. It hurt, but the pain has always been his faithful companion, one that would never fail to provide comfort. The redhead didn't take his eyes off, hoping to get lost in this all and to never return again.
However, the reality was harsh.
It slapped him in the face with a cold wet rug the moment he realized that one cut out of sheer despair became six and that the white sink Asano always insisted on keeping clean was a bloody mess. Yet he didn't feel mortified. He was already too familiar with this sight to even bat an eye anymore.
The redhead let out a long exhale and ran water over his wrist to clean it up a bit. Not even the burn from the contact with disinfection managed to snap him out of this trance. Ten minutes later, his forearm was neatly bandaged and the sink as clean as new.
No traces left to betray him.
And he actually believed that this slip-up of his would never come to light.
Maybe it truly wouldn't, were it not for Asano being way too familiar with cutting.
Despite always being busy, he didn't fail to notice the change in Karma's behavior the longer he attended school. The boy spoke less and less, his expressions were something between tired and bored and the last time, when he finally thought that the redhead would try to talk it out, he freaking fell asleep.
He still couldn't forgive himself for that.
And yet, a few days later - as if nothing happened. Akabane was back to his usual self, even giving a smile once in a while and keeping up a conversation.
The drastic change alarmed the student council president and he had suspicions about the reason why this happened.
He hoped that he was wrong, he prayed that he was wrong, but all of that seemed to do nothing. Because when he actually mustered the courage to grab Karma's wrist and let the long sleeves of his blazer slip down, what he saw couldn't be explained any other way: That, what he was looking at, was a bandage, and what lied beneath were cuts.
It wasn't only him paralyzed in horror.
"What is this?" Asano asked silently, although his whole core felt like it was burning.
Despite Karma wanting to hide from the stare he was given, he was no longer a child, no longer the ticking bomb that tried to kill itself in the heat of the moment. He understood that there was nothing he could say to defend himself, but there was the bitterness in him caused by Asano's constant absence and for some childish reason, he suddenly liked the guilty and mad expression the strawberry blonde was making. It felt like he was punishing him for not noticing something was wrong. However it sounded, it was the truth - ugly truth, which he was both happy about and ashamed of.
That's why he firmly answered, staring back at those amethyst eyes: "Cuts,"
Which most definitely was not how the latter imagined this conversation would go.
"When?" Asano trailed off and then added: "Why?"
"On Wednesday," the redhead hissed, feeling the adrenaline in his blood, "Because I felt like shit and there was no one I could turn to,"
Unbelievable how tempting the desire to put the blame on someone - or rather especially Asano - was.
Even more unbelievable what a horrible human being he was that he wanted his weakness to be Asano's fault.
And while the boy was so immersed in his own world, he was oblivious of the consequences his words could leave.
The student council president might have been strong, should have been flawlessly immune to criticism and accusations, yet when it came to this person in front of him, it was as if all his defense went down. He actually reflected on every single thing he did or things he didn't do that he should have and despite knowing Karma was just too hurt to think about what he was saying, he found some truth in the boy's words.
He wasn't there when Karma needed it.
And this happened.
He let go of the hand and stood there for a while, completely at loss as to what he should do. Say something? Do something? What? What could make him atone for breaking a promise? What could he say to stop his roommate from cutting again?
It was sudden, it was stupid, but something entered his mind.
The boy went off somewhere. The redhead had no idea why nor did he do anything to find out. He was too angry and stubborn to move his head and show any sign of care towards the latter, let alone to ask. He just stood at the spot with a jaw clenched, not sure who these feelings were addressed to.
Only after hearing the familiar sound of a box closing did he start getting curious. It took him about half a minute to abandon his pride and turn around only to spot something he wouldn't even dream of. Ever.
"What are you d-" Karma started but never finished the sentence, standing up abruptly in sheer horror and trying to stop the strawberry blonde from-
"Cutting myself," he answered plainly. And by the time Karma snatched away the razor from his hands, there were already two bloody lines on his wrist.
"What the hell?! Are you crazy?!" he got yelled at, but that did not change the cold expression.
"Maybe. But isn't this what you wanted me to do?"
"No! God, no, why?!"
"Because your eyes were screaming," Asano deadpanned, "they wanted me to know the pain."
And this time it was Karma at loss of words.
He hated to admit it, but there was some truth in those words. He was tired of seeing the popular and by all loved class president, everyone's prince in the shining armor. He was fed up with knowing how much better Asano was, how much more loved he was by everyone. It felt unfair. Even knowing that it was idiots admiring the strawberry blonde, it still felt unfair. Childish, wasn't it?
Yet Asano cutting himself as punishment was definitely not what he wanted.
"I haven't done this in a pretty long time," the student council president suddenly proclaimed, a slight smile on his lips.
Karma was terrified.
"It still feels as good as I remember it,"
Even more terrified than when found out.
"We both understand this addicting pain, don't we?" Gakushuu moved his gaze from his wounds to the redhead. And at that moment, Karma understood what an idiot he has been.
He wasn't the only one fighting this battle of life.
Gakushuu has never been any better either.
Helping Karma was a way to help himself as well. It was a motivation to keep on living without having to hurt himself every time he felt under the weather.
And even this plan failed, what else was there to keep him away from the razor?
"I guess I can't fight this any longer," the brokenness of Asano's voice pulled the former E-class student back to the current situation.
He thought the boy was going to cry.
"I'm sorry, I used your hatred towards me as an excuse to cut," the amethyst eyed boy confessed, a smile automatically forming as if to protect him. From what, that he never found the answer to.
And for once, it was Karma's turn to offer solace in the form of a warm hug.
It was the first time he thought he finally understood the strawberry blonde.
The first time he saw through the facade of a strong soldier and found the lonely, scared boy waiting for someone to help.
There has never been anyone to help Asano.
And Karma realized only now.
"Let's clean those up," he suggested, gently taking the latter's hand into his own and leading him to the bathroom. They sat down on the floor and there he started with the process he was too familiar with, finishing it with a few wraps of the bandage.
"Never do this again," the redhead once he was done. "Please,"
"Right back at you," Asano chuckled, and it sounded even more rueful to Karma when he knew that the feeling he was featuring didn't reach his eyes.
"I'm sorry for being an ass," the boy sighed, lowering his head. "I... I was jealous of how well you went on with everyone. I was afraid that I didn't mean anything to anyone in this world, it made me lonely and desperate. And when I wanted to tell you, I was worried you'd judge me and laugh in my face."
But that was before understanding that Asano was neither an enemy nor an ideal. He was just like him, a human struggling to find a purpose in this ugly life.
"Sorry for being useless," the other one replied.
"Haha, what's up with that self-hatred? Did we switch roles?"
"And which roles did we have to begin with?" Asano asked and it was such a good question it left the redhead puzzled for a good minute.
"Who knows? But the last time I checked, you were the less suicidal one. What happened to your defensive barrier consisting of sweets and the book that is about to get published?"
"I ran out of chocolate and don't have the time to buy the book,"
"That's a shame. What are you even reading?"
"A little lie, the second volume of the Winter series," he said with a relaxed smile. "It's a good book," he added.
And so they sat in silence, which actually wasn't uncomfortable nor pleasant. It just was there, the third companion to their existence.
"Fighting this alone is hardly possible," Asano then declared, looking straight into the amber orbs.
"I know," Karma agreed, "So let's not,"
"Yeah," the strawberry blonde nodded. "Let's not,"
And they wouldn't.
"For starters, we should go grab a piece of cake. Or two. Or a whole cake, for that matter," Karma sent him a warm smile, hoping to mend whatever was left.
Obviously, the sweet loving Asano didn't refuse.
So they spent the rest of the evening in a cafe, indulging themselves with whatever it is that caught their eyes.