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𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚛

(A|N: this one is a few months old and unedited, lol.)

(CONTAINS: himeno x gn!reader technically, nothing too graphic but csm-typical references to suicide, sex, depression, and alcoholism/smoking.)

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you like her. huh.

it's more than just a like--it's a crush. if himeno were any less jaded she'd say you were in love with her. if himeno were any less jaded she'd want you to. god, she'd let herself want you so badly. you, your eyes of a deep, bright color only you own. you, your hands always searching for hers, whether it be to take a used cigarette, hand her your lighter so she can relight another, or hand her your hand. wrapped taught and warm, as if your love could travel from your palms to her heart from that alone.

himeno wishes it could. wishes she could be the type of person worth loving, the type of girlfriend who's bones aren't rotten from smoking, who's organs aren't further mulching from alcohol damage; in another life, himeno could've put them to good use. could've given you sex that doesn't make her body hate her from the inside out. could've even given you a baby, if you'd both wanted.

god, does she just want you to love someone else. someone better, someone not-himeno. someone who will live the next five years through beside you, smiling her smile, voice warm and welcoming without the smoke and hard liquor. someone who doesn't love a guy who will never love her back because he knows. aki knows she isn't worth shit, that she doesn't deserve him, that she'd do them both a favor and cut the stupid high-school shit and support his death wish already. her death, right after his. because himeno is terribly selfish, she can't live without him.

which is why she can't live with you.

what type of life would that be? wondering if she'd ever come home, never able to even fuck her when she does, collapses onto her floor and rests easy as the corpse she ought to be. sometimes himeno wondered if she'd traded her soul to have ghost, because she sure does live like one. life passes her by, too drunk to care, too high of the smoking fumes to bother. then when that's gone she's alone, desperate, empty again, she longs for a life of peace and happiness she'll only have when she's dead.

you can't love a dead person, kid. trust her, she's tried.

himeno isn't brave like aki, good like you, or alive like either of you are. she surrenders to despair as easy as rot gives way to bone; not enough tears left in her glassy eye to shed as she downs the rest of her can and falls into a cold, loveless sleep. the moon bare to her contorted limbs and fat torso, to mock her beautiful wishes in show with her disgusting cow body. 

too bad it won't be the last time it does so.