Pessimistic [Completed]

17

Huge trigger warning for Sxlf Hxrm again.
I had a huge motivation burst again. 3 chapters in 3 days is probably a record (for me at least).

It had only been a week since Keith had broken up with Pico.

He kept wondering whether this was good for him. He knew he deserved it.

He deserved pain.

He dedicated to much time to hurting himself that he barely ate, or came out of his room in general. His heart was constantly pounding furiously, as if trying to escape his chest.

And to make matters worse, the weird black infection thing was starting to spread down his chest and pelvis. It had been numb for so long that he didn't even notice it anymore.

He was staring blankly at the wall. Maybe he should switch it up, hit his head a few times?

It was sickening that he thought these things, but at this point it was normal.

There was already a bruise on his forehead, so he didn't really need to hurt himself.

He'd use the knife anyways, it didn't make as much sound.

He grabbed it from under his pillow. He hadn't bothered closing it last time.

Drawing up his sleeve, he pressed it on his arm again. He'd been going down grooves from previous cuts. He knew he'd have scars, but he really doubted he'd ever let his arms heal enough to see them.

Blood seeped out slowly, as if checking to see if it was safe.

He carefully traced more lines on his arm, pushing the knife through his skin.

Someone pounded on the door. His hand slipped in suprise and he yelped.

"Pico?" Nene's voice came from the other side of the door. "You okay in there?"

Pico looked down at the huge cut on his arm. "Oh, fuck me." He muttered.

"I'm coming in there."

In one movement, Pico shoved the knife under the pillow and fixed his sleeve.

Nene opened the door, looking at him worried. "You're so pale." She waited for Pico to say something, but he wasn't going to. "Come on, I made Mac and Cheese for dinner."

"I'm not hungry."

"Please, just come on."

"I'm tired." This wasnt a total lie, he'd been light headed lately.

"When was the last time you ate?"

"Yesterday."

"Fruit snacks don't count."

Pico didn't meet her eyes. He hadn't had a proper meal in forever.

"Come on, it's Mac and Cheese?"

Pico sighed. "Fine."

Nene smiled as Pico got up and followed her out of his room.

"Look. I shouldn't have yelled at you, I'm sorry."

"Its fine. I'm just stressed."

"Right, 'stressed'. Its not your fault, I should have warned you that she-"

"This isn't about her."

"Oh. Well, I was just making sure it wasnt playing a part in anything. I care about you, and it hurts me to see you like this, or rather, not see you."

"I'm fine, you don't need to care about me or anything."

"You're obviously not fine, take that from someone who been 'fine' before. If you need to talk to me, I'm here."
"I don't need to talk, I can cope by myself."

Nene looked at him skeptically before stepping down the stairs.

Pico followed behind her, slipping a couple of steps after misplacing his foot. "Deserved that." He mumbled, pulling himself up on the banister.

"What happened to your hand?"

Pico shoved his hand into his pocket. "Nothing, doesn't matter."

Nene went ahead to the dining room (which was practically in the kitchen) and started put mac and cheese onto four plates, muttering something about not agreeing to be a mom.

Darnell was sitting on the couch next to Keith, the two were watching TV.

Pico felt his heart jump at the sight, and he forced himself to look away.

"Is something wrong? You're cryi-"

"Its the light, it's just bright because I've been sitting in the dark for days. Not crying." Pico sat down on a chair.

The other two came over and sat down at the table.

As Nene was scooping Mac onto his plate Darnell said "That's what good pussy sounds like."

"Darnell, you've never had any pussy, much less good pussy, so shut it and eat your noodles." Nene glared at him.

The four ate in silence.

When Pico finished, he got up an put his plate in the sink, rinsing it off quickly before leaving to go back to his room.

"Where are you going?" Nene interrupted him.

"Upstairs."

"You're always in your room. You spend a bit more time out of it, you know."

"I don't want to though." Pico snapped. "I'm going to go sleep."

"No, you're going to stay downstairs."

"You think you can control a grown man?"

"An emotionally weak grown man who doesnt take care of himself like he should, yes."

"I'm not 'emotionally weak' or anything. Im perfectly fine and you don't need to care about me."

"That's the thing, I do need to care about you. You don't, so someone has to."

"Well maybe I don't want anyone to care about me, because I don't deserve it! You're so nice to me, and I don't understand!"

"You do deserve it, you-"

"No, I don't! I'm just an asshole to you! You aren't my mom, yet you act like you are, and you're concerned about me and I don't understand why you could ever care about me!"

Keith stared at him like he had something to say, but nevertheless stayed silent.

Pico's hands quivered by his side. "I'm not going to get better. I'm horrible. The only good change that I can see happening is me dying." He wiped his eyes, realizing he was crying.

"Pico, that's not true."

"It's plenty true." Pico ran upstairs, slamming his door like he did last week.

He'd fucked up again.

He kept fucking up.

He was a fuck up.

He grabbed his knife and stabbed his arm furiously.

He deserved every bit of this pain and more.

Stab.

Stab.

Stab.

There was blood all over his sleeve.

Stab.

Stab.

Stab.

This hurt so fucking much.

Stab.

Stab.

Stab.

He dropped the knife, panting. He looked at his mangled arm, the sight of it almost made him sick.

This was seriously fucked up.