There's a void Oikawa Tooru needs to fill. It is slowly consuming him, slowly taking away his humanity, until he will be nothing but skin and dust no more. He tries to fill this black hole with girls, drugs, and sex, but nothing seems to work. It ju...
ⓞⓘⓚⓐⓦⓐ ♥ [TRIGGER WARNING: MENTIONS OF ABUSE] [SONG: MY MOTHER'S EYES]
Rất tiếc! Hình ảnh này không tuân theo hướng dẫn nội dung. Để tiếp tục đăng tải, vui lòng xóa hoặc tải lên một hình ảnh khác.
𝐎 𝐢 𝐤 𝐚 𝐰 𝐚 wakes to a girl in his bed. She has long, sandy hair, her pretty emerald eyes closed shut in slumber. Oikawa would be lying if he said she was not beautiful, for all women are beautiful in sleep. He has learned this from his mother, watching her tired physique melt into the covers as she retired from a fatiguing day of pleasing his father. "I do it in the name of love" she would say, her lips stretching into something that tried to imitate a smile.
Oikawa bites his lip, remembering her words. He shakes his head free of such thoughts and nudges the sleeping girl next to him. "Wake up, Iriji," he whispers into her pale ear. She blinks and rubs her eyes sleepily.
"Hmm?" she hums, glancing around the room, her gaze falling on a box of condoms in the corner. Her face reddens and she snatches her nightgown, quickly pulling it over her head. "I-" she stammers.
"It's alright, sweetheart," Oikawa says warmly, though it is all a carefully rehearsed act. They all seem to believe it. Iriji is no different. Oikawa tries his best to hide his disappointment. He was sure she would be different. She was marvelous, he admits. He was willing to make things work.
"I should be going now," Iriji mumbles, flustered, as she runs out the bedroom door. Oikawa sighs and leans against the bedframe. He had tried to experience the slightest bit of emotion through the night, but nothing worked. He had feigned it, in the end.
ᴛʜᴇ ᴇᴍᴘᴛɪɴᴇꜱꜱ ᴡᴀꜱ ꜱᴏ ᴘᴀɪɴꜰᴜʟʟʏ ᴘʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴛ.
He closes his hollow brown eyes and ignores the void in his chest. It is around six in the morning, so classes are in three hours. The night had seemed sickly sweet, like the rotting of a flower. Hopefully it had been alright for Iriji.
Oikawa gets out of bed and wanders to the shower, meaning to get the stiffness out. He turns the water to scalding hot and hisses as it embraces his skin. It hurts, but it is fine.
At least he feels
ｓ ｏ ｍ ｅ ｔ ｈ ｉ ｎ ｇ.
Oikawa chuckles dryly at the bitter thought. It is strangely amusing. He tilts his face to the water and lets it wash over him, a cleansing of the filthy things he has done. He has played women and glided lies over his tongue like honey. He has intoxicated himself with the promise of a few hours of counterfeited happiness. He has left behind the ones who needed him with the ones who have broken all he has known. His mother
and his
𝚏 𝚊 𝚝 𝚑 𝚎 𝚛.
Just thinking of that horrid man turns Oikawa's insides to venom. His face contorts, remembering pain and suffering. He traces the scars across his stomach; reminders of all he has been through. Reminders of that disgusting man. Reminders of all the times his mother has turned to him with tears leaking out of broken eyes and told him not worry. Reminders of all the times she has went crawling back to that man's smiling face, corrupted with sweet nothings fed into her ears. Reminders of glass shattering across the kitchen floors. Reminders of blood dripping into the marble bathroom sink. Reminders of a screaming sister and boastful laughs. Reminders of sharp slaps against fragile skin. Reminders of mentally scarred children being told by a broken mother
["it's alright, he's just doing it in the name of love."]
How she failed to realize that would soon mislead her daughter to believe that "love" meant "anger." How her daughter would fall into the traps of evil men. How her daughter would be broken for life and shoved into a mental hospital with no intention of fixing her. How she would rot there until her bones gave way and she would fall to the floor, still and unmoving. How her brother would cry for hours on end and spite the world. How he would turn hollow and nothing,
n o t h i n g,
would fill him up again.
Oikawa knows he is crying at this point, though the shower is still blistering hot. His pain is oddly numbed by now, but that doesn't stop from tears dripping from those empty eyes of his. Of course, he must act "normal" to fit into his college, to keep classmates from digging too deep to see his true form. His scarred form. His broken form. Nobody even truly knows who Oikawa really is. Hell, even Oikawa doesn't know who he is. He has dived far too deep into the depths of acting for him to resurface for true air. He may as well drown in this ocean of falsity, made up of the tears from his mother, sister, and his hidden, broken self. Oikawa was sure he would never truly
F E E L
again.
From what he has seen, from his mother, from his father, he has always kept a scarily realistic thought tucked into the corners of his darkened mind.
𝚒𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚒𝚜, 𝚒𝚝 𝚖𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚋𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎
🆂🅲🅰🆁🅸🅴🆂🆃 🆃🅷🅸🅽🅶 🅸🅽 🆃🅷🅴 🆆🅾🆁🅻🅳. ///
Rất tiếc! Hình ảnh này không tuân theo hướng dẫn nội dung. Để tiếp tục đăng tải, vui lòng xóa hoặc tải lên một hình ảnh khác.
a/n i like actually teared up writing this chapter 'cause it was so powerful.
