N/A: TRIGGER WARNING FOR SELF HARM
also, this chapter is pretty trashy so sorry
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•Chapter Eleven•
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p a i n
It started at his feet, slowly crept up his legs, and laid itself in the pit of his stomach where it unfurled and wrapped it's thorny self around his heart, constricting his once steady heartbeat. It moved upwards, latching onto his insides and squeezed his throat. It wove it's way up to his brain and let itself rest, it's thorns turning his head to goop.
He choked on the few breaths he tried to suck in, struggled to make his heart beat again, internally cried out at the pain covering his brain. The thoughts in his head were held in place by the pain's harsh thorns, the force crushing his throat made it harder for him to calm himself and instead did the opposite. The grasp on his heart gave him the feeling of a never-ending heart attack.
p a i n
It took over his body, made him aware of its existence and had more control over him than he did. It told when to feel, how to feel, but never told him why he should feel. You're going to feel like this forever. Miserable. It made him so damn miserable. But why?
p a i n
It numbed him, kept him locked up from the rest of the world, pushed everyone he ever cared about away from him. It took things from him. Told him those things weren't real. Things like happiness and love.
Bandaids. They're bandaids; temporarily patching up a wound in your life that's always been there. Bandaids don't last forever, they'll fall off eventually and you'll fall apart all over again.
Pain reminded him of the thing he'll never have again.
.
.
.
Somehow he ended up at home, or at least he thought he ended up at home. He wasn't sure how or when Riot led him there; they could've been there for a while for all he knew. The familiar layout of the house and smell of nature, scents like lavender and fresh rain, helped reassurance him that he was indeed at home.
"Hello?" he called out down the hallway. No answer. Relief flooded over him like a wave and for the first time, he was pleased to know that he would have the house to himself for a while. It was one of those rare nights where his moms were either stuck at work or hanging out with their friends. Upon checking his phone, the most recent texts from them informed him that they decided to go have a couple of drinks and if he wanted, he could invite his friends over to stay the night so he wasn't stuck at home alone. The final text told him that there were leftovers in the kitchen.
Riot ran, tugging the harness out of Kirishima's grasp and disappeared down the hallway towards the kitchen. He fell into a crouch, fingers running through his messy and sweaty hair as he spoke quietly to himself.
"You're strong, you're the strongest you've ever been. You can get through this, you will get through this," he whispered with shut eyes. He was capable of getting through it, with and without the help of others.
Telling himself that didn't work when it should have. Nothing felt real. He got the sensation that he was floating through life, not living the best he could and was missing so much compared to everyone else. Freedom. He was missing the freedom he briefly experienced before what terrible vision he had left disappeared. The lack of normality, of freedom, was burning him slowly and he didn't know how to make it stop before it turned him to ash. He wanted to see the world and all its vivid colours, he wanted to watch a movie with his friends and not give them the burden of having to describe all the events going on. He wanted to know what it's like to be behind the wheel of a car and to ride a bike without someone with him. Or to simply enjoy a run down the sidewalk during the summer time.
He craved what little freedom he used to have. But then again he never had any to begin with. From the moment he was diagnosed at age four he was considered legally blind. At night he was completely blind and during the day he had no sense of depth. He never got to enjoy the world, to experience its colours and visit it's most cherished sights. Learning how to live like a blind person before he was blind ate up his time.
Freedom was something he never had. The revelation hit him like a truck
It's possible to miss something you never had.
Kirishima stood and made his way up the stairs, taking his time so he could run his fingers along the slick bannister and plaster walls. They glided along the walls until they found a doorknob, above that was a braille label with Kirishima's name on it. The label wasn't needed as his muscle was more than himself to help him navigate the house but it was still nice to have.
The door shut before Riot could even make it in, which was fine with the redhead. He wanted to be away from everyone, including his dog. After pulling open the closet door, he felt around for the only box in there buried under a pile of folded clothes. Inside the box passed a pile of cloth acting as a sound barrier was an even smaller box containing small blades he never thought he'd ever look for again. He told his friends that he'd tossed them out years ago, but he lied and didn't know why. He didn't know why he just didn't toss them out like he said he had. Something deep inside whispered, keep them, and he didn't think to question it.
A blade ended up in his hand. He let it sit there, feeling the weight of it and the coolness of the metal against his skin, tossing it back and forth before carefully running his fingers over the sharpest part. He felt a little hole somewhere near the middle where a screw would go for a pencil sharpener.
And he remembered how it used to feel against his skin all those years ago when he hated every part of himself. The thought of causing harm to himself like he used to made him hate himself all over again because he's come so far, walked through hell so many times, and doing so would be like throwing away all those years of conquest. Every last bit of work he'd done to better and make himself happy would be for nothing.
The loud buzz of his phone in his pocket wanked him back into reality. One buzz after another, a never-ending sound that began to make his skin crawl. So many texts from Mina, Kaminari, and even Katsuki came rolling in all at once, all of them questioning his whereabouts and showing concern for his well being. His fingers scanned over every single text but in the end, he only replied to Katsuki.
To: Katsuki
im fine, just didn't feel all that well
Sent at: 6:28 PM
From: Katsuki
Thats such fucking bullshit, dumb hair. I can smell the bullshit from here.
Received at: 6:29 PM
To: Katsuki
im feeling a little low, thats all. its nothing to worry about
Sent at 6:31 PM
From: Katsuki
Why?
Received at 6:33
To: Katsuki
i dunno. it just happens i guess but im okay.
Sent at 6:34
From: Katsuki
Alright. Don't do anything stupid, okay?
Recieved at 6:35
To: Katsuki
okay
Sent at 6:37
He wasn't okay. In fact, okay was the farthest thing from what he actually felt. A deep ache in his heart, thorny vines wrapping around and restricting it. Squeezing it so tightly it felt like it would burst from all the pressure. Inner pain. It was one of the worst things to feel. It can't be pinpointed the way most physical pain can and no amount of pain medication will make it go away. Describing it to people was just as hard as him trying to tell people what he saw.
Before he was fully aware of what was happening, the blade was moving across his skin, splitting it. The warmth of the blood seeping out of the fresh cut spread soon spiralled down his arm and dripped onto the dark carpet beneath his feet. A blissful pain he detested himself for secretly missing.
It helped him say all the things he couldn't find the words to explain, to express the pain that was buried behind his bright smile and tucked away behind his heart where no one else dared to look. But it was also a sign of loss. He lost to the darkest and most excruciating thoughts that he had somehow managed to ignore for way longer than what he thought was possible.
Again. He slid the blade across another part of his arm and then did it for a third time, letting the physical pain take over the mental pain. A sweet sense of momentary relief washed over him and he soaked it up until there was none left.
Then his actions dawned on him. Like a flip of a switch; the relief vanished and was replaced with horror at what he had just done to himself. The inner pain was back, collided with the sting of the wounds on his wrists, and created something entirely new.
Kirishima chucked the crimson stained razor in the direction of the closet and scrambled across the floor as he held his injured arm against his chest and searched for something, anything, to stop the bleeding. A shirt, a towel, a fucking sock or pair of underwear would do the trick. His fingers tumbled over a soft piece of fabric, cotton, and he instantly pressed it against his arm.
The years of renewal and learning to love himself again slipped away. Just like that they were gone, leaving him at square one. He forgot how to pick himself up, to brush himself off, to move forward because for the longest time he was moving forward and was sure that he'd never have to pick himself up again.
A creek of the door caused everything to tense; his heart jumped into his throat and his breathing hitched somewhere close behind. Like a deer in headlights, he stared at the figures illuminated by the hallway lights and wished for death to quickly run over him without hesitation because he knew exactly who was standing there.
He turned away, folded in on himself as a way to make himself seem smaller. Shame painted his face.
One of them was about to speak, to ask him all sorts of questions he didn't have the strength to answer, but before the words could leave their lips they saw the small stains of blood on his arm and carpet and the shirt pressed against his wrist. That was more than enough to explain the situation to them.
Someone crouched next to him, ran their long fingers up and down the length of his back, their body so close he could feel them breathing and hear the beating of their heart. Footsteps left and then came back moments later. Another body was crouched next to him.
"Lemme see your arm," Mina mumbled too quietly. With hesitation he took his arm away from his body and felt her take it into her hands; her touch gentle and tender as she observed the severity of the wounds before tending to them. The rubbing alcohol didn't hurt as bad as everything else did and just like that the three wounds were wrapped in a thick layer of gauze.
Kaminari and Mina exchanged hushed whispers and began to scrub away at the stains on the carpet as best they could. Just like Kirishima, they didn't want his parents to stumble upon the blood-stained carpet. All kinds of questions would arise and they'd do those things parents do when they're extremely worried; hover, never take their eyes off him no matter how many times he'd try to tell them that he was feeling better. They knew Kirishima wouldn't want to answer them because that would mean telling them what happened, telling them that he hurt himself and God only knows what they'd do with that kind of information.
"Why?" Kaminari stammered out, only to be hit and scolded by Mina for asking such a personal question at a time like that.
Kirishima exhaled so deeply, averted his gaze to the floor, and said, "It was a bunch of little things... I thought I was fine but maybe I was just lying to myself.
Two pairs of arms slid around his frame and held him tightly, like if they didn't hold him like his life depended on it he might slip away and neither of them would be able to handle that. They needed him to know that he was one of the most precious things in their lives and without him, the world would be unbearably dull.
"I've been feeling like a burden to you guys. I get the feeling that I'm holding you two back and I hate it. I haven't been able to shake his overwhelming need to be normal, to be free. I've tried but it's just not working. And I'm trying to stay happy for you guys because you all deserve to be happy but with the weight of everything... it's just so hard," he blurted out. At the realization of what had left his mouth, he quietly said, "Don't tell Katsuki, please? I don't want him to know."
Their arms held him tighter. His insides felt like they might pop out of every hole if they didn't stop. With the suffocating grip, he managed to find comfort in their arms. They almost felt like home to him; warm, comforting, filled with the people he loved dearly. He never wanted to leave because he felt safe, nothing would ever hurt him there.
The pain lingered like a burn but his head no longer hurt, he could breathe without any issues, and his heart was beating again. A seed still resisted in his stomach, waiting to bloom and take over again, but if he didn't fuel it, if he was able to fight back, it wouldn't have the chance to grow. It was the type of seed to flourish in the dark so if he only let the light shine on it, it would stay a pitiful seed with no power.
"You aren't a burden to us, Kiri," Mina reassured, "You'll never be a burden. Never ever."
"You're one of us, bro," Kaminari chimed in.
Kaminari and Mina broke away from the hug, ending it way too soon, and asked him if they could stay the night. Of course, he said yes. Everyone changed in the same room, well Kaminari changed in the closet whilst Mina and Kirishima were comfortable enough to change in front of each other. A game of rock, paper, scissors was played to see who would have the privilege of climbing in bed with Kirishima whilst the other person was banished to the floor.
Mina won and tossed herself into the bed, nuzzling under the comfy camo blanket. The blonde mumbled under his breath about how the game was rigged and that she always won and how his back was going to be a stiff as a board in the morning because his back wasn't meant to lay on a hard floor for twelve hours.
"How am I supposed to get my beauty rest down here?" he said.
"Your 'beauty rest' clearly isn't do anything for that face of yours," Mina countered.
The room erupted with laughter. Those two... they always knew what to say and how to say it. There weren't better people in the world, no one would ever amount to their greatness and kindness. It wasn't possible.
Kirishima didn't deserve them. He still stood by that because it was true. He didn't deserve the kindness they showed him or the support or the love, however, feeling like that made him appreciate them more. He didn't deserve them, yet they still stuck around, and he would forever be grateful for that.
He loved them, adored everything about them, and although he knew they'd never lie to him to spare his feelings no matter the situation, part of him still didn't believe it when they said, you aren't a burden to us, and he hated himself for it.
You aren't a burden.
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Word Count: 2802
May 10, 2019
i. hate. this. chapter.
thanks for coming to my tedtalk
okay but in all seriousness, im rewriting this thing I've had for like 2 years called Finding Eclipse and like, it's about this concept I've only shared with 2 people ever and I'm trying so hard to rewrite it as quickly as possible because I want people to read it so bad lmao sjdhdhd uh. im not gonna say when it'll be out or anything because im not entirely sure myself but just know that it's a thing that'll happen eventually
-StarsNeverLanding