Archive of Our Own ^beta

The sun was up on the crystal clear sky, shining as strong as ever. It was a-dazzle with splendour and it was a soul-swelling experience. Between gaps in the trees' canopy, lances of its molten-gold beams splashed onto the ground, softly caressing some flowers' petals. Blooming groves, roses and many more were spread everywhere in the garden, a mosaic of unexplainable color. At such times of the year, as if on cue, the herald of spring arrived after taking a sabbatical for the winter. The blackbird is the main player in the dawn chorus, his song as clear and fresh as the garden he will later raid. Warbling wrens and carolling chaffinches joined him, creating an orchestra of sound. It cascades into the open spaces, ghosted through windows and onto the smiling lips of the sleepers within. And out of his perspective, it was such a dark day for Illumi.
He was sitting down on a bench placed between several of the mentioned plants, a book between his hands.
The assassin was dressed with a loose black dress, perfectly complimenting him. The piece of clothing was slightly tighter in the waist area, going down freely in a triangle,its sleeves being short, brocaded with small while details. The breeze was going through, making it mull amazingly against his hourglass shaped-like body, quite brief one could say. The wind greeted the concrete and skin just the same, yet he was blessed to feel it. Its giddy currents flowing through the garden's canopies, unaware of how its song soothes those who can hear. It pleased him. The gale was pressing the dress on his skin, velvet material softly caressing him. It felt so strange how something inanimate could bring comfort, more than he ever received anyway. A few strays of hair were getting in front of his shoulders, the book he was once holding, slipping down between his fingers.
Illumi was looking around aimlessly, a shilling affliction throbbing in his head. A constant beat of pain echoing though the walls of his mind, just to drip away further, clogging his ears, blurring his sight. His heart was beating so fast and loud, that was the only thing evidencing in the atmosphere.
He felt so alone, there, in the middle of the desired paradise, lost in his own thoughts.

𝘚𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘦.

The black haired was sitting still,not even his chest moving as he was breathing, untouched porcelain. But it wasn't because he aimed for it, he just 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘦. Something was holding him back, chained to the bench, making him feel as shivers went down his spine, agony building up. He was caged by a destructive mentality, destroying his brain, his way of thinking. Too many intrusive thoughts wandered everywhere.

𝘚𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘦.

"Illumi..." A weak, oh so trembling voice could barely be discerned somewhere close, trying to get to him. Fog laid before his eyes as a soft hand reached out to be placed on his cheek, lenient touch. "Wake up.. "

A desperate gasp left his quivering lips, as the assassin came back to his senses, inhaling chaotic, fearing air will be taken away from him. He looked around, dismay radiating from each and every one of his pores, trying to see the person, yet he was alone; just him and the chirping birds. And oh, 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩.
Illumi shook his head lightly, a wave of despair taking over his body. What just happened was the product of his sick mind, that was restlessly trying to find a way out.
The negative memories come with a cost, as addictive as they feel, once lessons are learnt there is nothing in them of value.
He stood up slowly, grabbing the book off the ground, then slowly starting to walk towards his house. It was big and assertive, almost like a manor, yet he lived there alone, all by himself.

𝘚𝘵𝘰𝘱.

A new feeling has made its place into his body. An endless dismay, voiding his whole. Emptiness. Or Perhaps just numbness. It was hard for him to comprehend everything that was going on; sudden emotions rushing through his soul, humbling him.

But really, 𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭? What was fear? What was love? Ah, love. A soft smile curled upon Illumi's lips as he started remembering about bittersweet memories,he once created with his beloved magician. It was something beautiful, they started slowly, confiding in each other, caring for each other, to later develop a strong bond. But it was going too well to be true.
His simper slowly begun to fade, questions clouding in his head. Was he not enough? Oh, how he wanted to scream and cry, to say everything that was going on inside of him. Drowning in a sea of emotions, wanting to throw up. Vomit all the pressure put upon his chest. The one crushing him without remorse.
The Zoldyck opened the door, freezing as he walked midway through. There was a mirror hung up in front, almost fully covering the wall. 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵.
He looked at himself, but he couldn't see anything. His appearance flickered ; a light appeared where a normal face should have been. Where were his delicate features? His big black eyes, voiding as you looked in them, piercing through everyone, were gone.
A muffled scream started being heard increasingly, his whole beginning to hurt within minutes.
Illumi grabbed into the knob, closing the door behind, later on instinctively leaning against the wall near for support.

𝘚𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘦.

His head started to furiously spin, hurting as the thoughts won't stop rushing. He let himself fall down,besides the panel, a boost of adrenaline going through his veins as his eyes started to tear up from the pain. "Make it stop" He yelped weakly, barely getting the words out. His throat clouded up with words as it started aching, feeling as small spikes pierced through it, to eventually strike his brain. 𝘜𝘯𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘢𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘺.
It only took a split of a second, for the black haired, to smash his head against the impediment. Touching the tough surface with so much strength, his skull throbbing at the impact. And god, 𝘪𝘵 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵 𝘴𝘰 𝘣𝘢𝘥.
Illumi's body stopped listening to him, he was moving so slow, fogging his sight again, seeing small droplets of blood staining the once white wall.
No matter how many he's endured during his assassination training, this was a whole new level of agony.
Steadily, the black haired stood up, horrified by what he's done, yet surprised to see it worked; the headache was now long gone. His body was paining him instead, especially his gullet.
It felt like a rope was tightening around his throat so fast, it made him suffocate within the momentums.

He slowly started walking towards the bathroom, thinking a bath would clear up his mind, turning on the water, opening a window for air. He let the wind invade the room, blow and sing its songs to stir the emotions, let it bring the sweet memories of times gone and hope for a good future ahead. He needed to be held so bad, by someone who loved him. The man would scream so many times for help, wake up sweating from a frightening nightmare,looking around for a soul, only one, to care and look after him; ask him if he was okay. However, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘯𝘰 𝘰𝘯𝘦.
The Zoldyck turned around to wash his face, but took a step back as he caught a glace upon the sink. There was blood splattered everywhere, the crimson liquid filling the ewer to the point where it became fully red. How did it get there? Why would it be there? He lived alone, he wouldn't let such a mess around..
The loud noise of the flowing water was sizzling inside of his head annoyingly, making it hurt worse than ever. He put his hands up his hair, grabbing it tightly as he tried to make it stop. The headache came along, 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯.
"Make it stop!" He screamed in pain, demanding, the view of the bathroom starting to spin within each of his sudden movements. He was so close to letting it all go down.
Illumi has finally snapped as he threw his clutched fist against the mirror, shattering it into tiny little pieces. A rain of crystal sorrows, induced affliction, desired happiness; all too far out of reach.
He followed the pieces' fall with his eyes,to eventually land on the 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘬.
Was he hallucinating?
"I'm going crazy" He whispered to himself, eyes widening, hand pickup up broken glass. 𝘏𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯. The man looked up to the very few pieces of the mirror left, a desperate smile showing on his face.

𝘚𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘦.

But what was there to save, out of a broken, abandoned soul?
The sharp edge of the glass started spiking down his arm, deepening considerably, to the point were blood madly started to gush out.
"𝘐 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯" Illumi cried out as a few tears trickled down his face. The gaper was being pushed back down his arm, its edge dancing on his skin, precious red fluid flowing everywhere.
"I just want to 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘯" He continued with small sobs, to finally collapse on the floor soaking with water.
The assassin weakly reached his hand out to close the loch from flowing out of the bathtub, turning the tap off. All his fault.

𝙎𝙘𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙢𝙨 𝙬𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙗𝙚𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙛𝙧𝙤𝙢 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙖𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙩𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩 5𝘼 𝙤𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙚𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙙 𝙛𝙡𝙤𝙤𝙧 𝙤𝙛 𝙖 𝙗𝙪𝙞𝙡𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙜. 𝙏𝙬𝙤 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙨 𝙮𝙚𝙡𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙖𝙩 𝙚𝙖𝙘𝙝 𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧. 𝙋𝙚𝙧𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙨 𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙘𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙙, 𝙤𝙧 𝙢𝙖𝙮𝙗𝙚, 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙡𝙤𝙨𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙛𝙚𝙚𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 𝙤𝙘𝙘𝙪𝙧𝙧𝙚𝙙 𝙛𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙣 𝙚𝙭𝙥𝙚𝙘𝙩𝙚𝙙.
'𝘐 𝘨𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨.. " 𝙈𝙪𝙛𝙛𝙡𝙚𝙙 𝙨𝙤𝙗𝙨 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙚𝙧𝙣𝙚𝙙, 𝙖 𝙬𝙚𝙖𝙠, 𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙢𝙗𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙫𝙤𝙞𝙘𝙚.
𝙃𝙞𝙨𝙤𝙠𝙖 𝙝𝙖𝙨 𝙡𝙚𝙛𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙖𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙩𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙖𝙣 𝙪𝙣𝙚𝙭𝙥𝙡𝙖𝙞𝙣𝙖𝙗𝙡𝙚 𝙬𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙝, 𝙨𝙡𝙖𝙢𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙙𝙤𝙤𝙧 𝙖𝙨 𝙝𝙚 𝙙𝙞𝙙 𝙨𝙤.

Illumi's eyes watered again, emotions taking over. His brain started to black out,forcing him want to stay awake, making him want to obey his thoughts with meek submission, driving mad to a constant loop of paranoia. Heavily, illogical, paranoia.
He pulled himself together quickly and stood up,opening a small cabinet near. He was looking for bandages. Due to a considerable loss of blood, his arm turned completely cold and pale, each vein growing visible; too tempting for him not to attempt cutting it off again. 𝘏𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘣𝘦 𝘴𝘰 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘧𝘧𝘴𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘥. 𝘈 𝘵𝘰𝘵𝘢𝘭 𝘧𝘢𝘪𝘭𝘶𝘳𝘦, 𝘺𝘦𝘵 𝘦𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘯. 𝘌𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘤𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘶𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘥𝘭i𝘯𝘦.

𝘋𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘭𝘺 𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘥𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘶𝘮𝘢.

Grabbing a towel and some medicine alcohol, his hands stumbled over a tub of pills, that fell down near his feet.
𝘋𝘦𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘴.
Illumi's eyes locked on the small recipient, carelessly rubbing the sanitizing substance over his wound.
The injury was so deep and large, it resulted in a part of his arm section lightly, flesh pulling apart as blood started gushing out again.

𝘕𝘰𝘵 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘯 𝘪𝘵𝘤𝘩.

His hair beautifully fell in front of his shoulders within his frail body bending over to pick up the tub. The assassin chuckled lightly, finding the situation amusing.
He didn't feel anything,yet those little pills seemed to be waiting for him. He 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘦𝘥 to take them. What would happen if he did? Nothing. He couldn't feel any of that. His body was refusing to accept any form of pain.

The man put the cap away and shoved the entire amount of capsules in his mouth, swallowing them each. And strange enough, he instantly felt better about himself. The sorrows went away, making him float above his problems. A little time earned before he'd drown completely in induced affection, self love that was so disgusting;fake and decepting. The hell he created on his own.
Illumi smiled lightly and slowly got out of the bathroom, completely forgetting about his wound, and not even noticing the heavy blood dripping down his arm as he walked.
His footsteps were being pressed roughly against the ground, sending shivers down his spine, regardless terrifying him to the core. 𝘏𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧.

His head spun. His heart beat with the rage of an unexplainable power.
It didn't take long and once again, the assassin dropped to the floor, twitching in pain, yet the simper was mentained. 𝘈𝘩 𝘺𝘦𝘴, 𝘰𝘧 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴, 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘢𝘴 𝘥𝘢𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘥 𝘱𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘴, 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮.

Illumi laid on his back, feeling so small, so insignificant, in such a big room full of meanings. He was useless.
Some people say fear of the unknown, fear of the gliding touch of mortality is horrible, whites your hair, creeps you inside out. But 𝘪𝘵 never was that way for the Zoldyck. He always saw death as a distant friend, an embrace waiting for him to finally end the suffering and acknowledge his uses: none.
His hair was beautiful falling down the floor, staining with the crimson blood 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 flowing out of his arm, as the pills were increasing his agony.

𝘐𝘵 causes no pain, beyond what life provides. 𝘐𝘵 is not greedy, 𝘪𝘵 is not rude, or rough. 𝘐𝘵 merely carried him, his burning soul to a cool rest, where he laid benumbed of the greed, rudeness, and hatred of the living world.
𝘚𝘰 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴.