Clementine (Kagehina)

23~Lines~

TW* Self harm

Kenma hated short sleeves. He hated volleyball uniforms. He hated them, because it made them visible. The lines.

Now, they're faint, you can just barely make them out. The light pink lines that stretch across the underside of his pale, thin arms. The lines that symbolize his hatred for himself, and for his life. They symbolize pain, suffering, agony, and utter hopelessness. Kenma drew these lines on himself years beforehand. He dug silver into his flesh, believing that he was meant to see the red again, the deep red that brought punishment, and pooled on the ground. His ill mind craved this color, pleading to see it every day.

Kuroo knew about the lines. Kuroo hated that Kenma drew them. He hated that the lines brought him so much suffering, even years later.

Kenma stopped drawing them, for a while.

As soon as the captain told him about his new girlfriend, suddenly the old artist got his spark back. His inspiration. He drew. And drew. Only this time, he wanted to make sure he didn't leak his art. He changed his canvas, from arms to thighs, to his own chest. Any place he hoped Kuroo wouldn't find it. He painted the canvas with the red that he missed, that he craved everyday.

He refused to eat. He only kept food in his house so that his friends would think he was eating. He had tried in the past to eat more than he could handle, to gain muscle, and fat. It never worked. He always stayed the same scrawny runt as he'd always been, and gave up trying. He believed his body didn't deserve nourishment, that if it wouldn't satisfy him, he didn't need to satisfy it.

This was the new normal for the setter. With both of his closest friends in relationships, he was alone. He couldn't draw happiness from them anymore. He relied on his past tradition, and his favorite color, red. That was something he could take from himself. To punish his weak body.

However many times he tried though, he couldn't drain the sadness.

~~

Kuroo POV

Kuroo unlocked the door waltzed into the home of his favorite person, excited to see the face he missed so much.

I wanna talk to him about Alisa...

He walked into the living room, looking around for signs of the boy.

Who am I kidding, of course he wouldn't be outside his room.

The captain swung open the door to the empty bedroom. He dropped his bags and looked around in confusion. His desk was still full, the setter's phone, headset, and monster cans were still sitting there. Kuroo then got extremely confused, aware that Kenma would never go anywhere without his phone. He then looked down and spotted a drop of red on the carpet.

He shook his head refusing to believe what he thought. "No... it can't be. Not again."

The black-haired boy raced around the house in a panic, searching frantically for his best friend. He looked in the living room again, the kitchen, the main bathroom, the guest bedroom, even the basement. Then he realized, Kenma had his own bathroom.

He sprinted back into the bedroom, and walked over to the door leading to the bathroom. He pressed his head up to the door, hearing muffled sobs from inside. The cries tugged at his heart, ripping it apart.

His flashbacks made his heart race in fear. The images of black-haired Kenma laying unconscious in a bathtub of his own blood.

Softly, the captain opened the door to his worst nightmare. 

His childhood friend sat on the tile floor, wearing only his boxers. He held a kitchen knife in one hand, dripping with his blood. The other hand was drenched in the red liquid. Kuroo looked down at his arms, which didn't have any cuts on them, only the old scars. He then looked at where the blood came from. His upper thighs were covered in deep wounds, much worse than ever before. You could barely see his skin, as both legs were completely covered. The red pooled on the tile floor, leaking in between the cracks, slowly spreading.