Work Text:
Yuri runs with the urgency of a cresting wave, not stopping to catch her breath until she finally secludes herself in the bathroom, and rolls up her sleeve.
The old blade, her most expressive friend. Adding fresh lines between faded scars. Constructing ladders to oblivion. Writing chapters of a story only she can decode.
The first cut is a lashing.
"Stupid, stupid!"
The second feeds regret.
"I should've kept my mouth shut."
The third bleeds inadequacy.
"I ruin everything."
The fourth mourns a friendship.
"Oh, Natsuki..."
The fifth, a white flag of surrender.
"I never meant to fall in love."