yes to heaven - xiaoven ↲⠀✔️⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀

v. may the wind guide you

venti 
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most of my friends like to write poetry, eh? i do as well, actually, but it's too much effort to do it everyday. i prefer writing and feeling through the raw emotions and crying words, for the impact it has is much greater. but that's just my opinion.

it's four in the morning and dark outside, it's supposed to be a good day, but it's never a good day for me. time runs and sprints but never ends, it's tiring. my friends always assume i'm asleep, but oh how wrong they are. i'm sitting in the bathroom, crying and laughing at what torture i put myself through.

it's a negative feeling to always want positivity, and it's a positive feeling to accept negativity, but how can i tell which is which? the lines blur somewhere around "it's a terrible day to be alive, but at least the pancakes didn't burn". 

the blade hiding under the towel seems to call my name. i reach for its handle, examining it in the harsh white light of the bathroom. i'm not exaclty sure if it's sterile or not, so i quietly wash it over with water, before drying it off with the red towel. 

a dead-asleep kauzha and heizou? check. scara and xiao in their own room? check. absolutely quiet? check. bandages? check. blade? check.

i lift the hem of my shorts up, and draw the knife across my pale thigh. the red seems so beautiful, compared to my sickly shaded skin. the red is dark and fresh, like rubies dripping down my legs.

the cuts burn a lot, there's an inkling of regret in my head, but i brush it off. i wash the blood off and bandage it, before pulling the shorts back over. tomorrow will be a sweat pants day.

i wonder how xiao would react if he knew this. i was the one who talked him out of suicide, but here i am, sitting on the bathtub's edge, cutting myself. would i even be worthy of thinking romance with him?

it's too late and too hard to fall asleep now, so i walk outside in the kitchen, only to hear soft laughs coming from scara and xiao's room. my heart leaps in a small bout of jealousy. i know scaramouche isn't stupid, and has probably already noticed my feelings for xiao, but i still can't help feel wary around him, as if he's trying to steal xiao away.

i quickly shake my head, feeling disgusted. xiao and scara have every right to do what they want. yes, the outcome could potentially throw me in an even worse state, but it's not their fault. it's all mine, for being petty.

i fish out an old cheesecake from the insanely messy fridge. there's a lot left, and i really want to eat it all, but that's really greedy, and i wouldn't do that to my friends. i cut a slice, and the knife falls to the ground with sickeningly loud "clink". there's no way scara and xiao won't notice my presence out here.

sure enough, scara pops his head out of the door, glaring at me.

"what in the horseshit are you eating cheesecake at four in the morning?"

"desperate people do desperate things," i smile, before eating an enormous bite. i pull out a bag of frozen berries from the fridge, and scara literally dashes to the counter.

"no eating these without me, you know that. xiao, come out, we're eating breakfast a little early today," he calls. 

scaramouche is really pretty. his eyes are a deep shade of navy, nearly as blue as the night sky outside. his soft hair flutters around his forehead as he runs, giving a slight illusion that maybe, just maybe, he's younger than he is.

when i look at him, he reminds me of many things, especially of a daring child. unfortunately, his childhood was also stripped of him. all that remains are the small scraps he could salvage.

xiao slowly tiptoes to the counter, and i'm pretty sure my heart just started beating two times faster. no matter how pretty scara is, xiao takes the cake, at least in my eyes. 

"they won't wake up, will they?" xiao murmers softly, gesturing to kazuha and heizou's room.

"of course not. not until maybe six or seven." 

"screw them, i'm here for the berries," scaramouche declares, jamming both of his hands into the berry packet. i notice nail polish on both his and xiao's fingernails. once again, my head flares in envy. can't i kick heizou and kazuha out, and keep xiao for myself? the scars in my thighs burn, reminding me not to get ahead of myself. i'm too broken for anyone here.

all of us sit on top of the counter, eating frozen strawberries and blueberries at unholy hours. it's strangely comforting. xiao's hand brushes against mine when we both go for the packet, and my skin buzzes. i'm getting ahead of myself.

i wish there were some more defining qualities to me, besides "crazy" or "funny". xiao calls scara the bipolar socrates boy, a snapping philosopher. i thought i had more to me than just a babyish teenage boy who can sing. i wish i had some form of depth.

i've lost my appetite again. i hop off of the cold counter and wash my hands in the kitchen sink, trying to avoid the sharp eyes of scara. 

"leaving so early?" he says quizically.

"i'm feeling tired, i need to rest. good night," i flash a fake smile.

i'm no good at lying, because both of them raise their eyebrows at me, but don't question any further. i don't know whether to be thankful they don't want to be invasive, or sad that they didn't prod and ask what's wrong.

i close the bedroom door behind me as i walk in, and fall into my bed. i grab the small dragon plushie and hug it. i love it. it has had to watch me cry more times than everyone else combined. and i'll do it again, because falling out of bad habits is harder than falling back into them.

i cry into the soft green fabric. i don't even know why i'm crying. i'm just a mess, really. a stupid, fucking mess. scaramouche would call me "rotting jackshit" in the most sympathetic manner he could muster for the amount of tears i've shed. 

i want to be there for xiao, to hold him tight in my weak arms and tell him that everything's ok, even when we both know it's not. i want to make him so happy that even scara would be confused on what happened. i want to cup his face in my tiny hands and brush his tears off of his face.

i hold back an angry laugh.

how do i wipe his tears, when i can't even stop my own?