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hate in the morning

Summary:

just a small piece of me self projecting onto kazuha

Notes:

please please do not read if you’re sensitive to suicide, self harm, and depression. this is just my experience with this and i do not mean to trigger anyone.

Work Text:

His lungs burnt, the insides being set aflame when she opened his mouth. The tears inside screaming to be let out yet he kept his mouth shut, never slipped out anything that spoke of being hurt. The warmth of his thin and tattered hoodie never bringing it’s usual comfort.

He let himself indulge in the cracks of his skin, the imperfections he knew that would never leave his skin no matter how much he tried to get rid of them. The dark and misty figures creeping back into his mind, they never seemed to leave him alone. The same plastic white bottle with the flabby tag hanging off the perfect circler bottle, being left on his stand that sat next to his bed. he hadn’t forgotten to clean his room, it itched at his mind all the time, he just never had enough energy to move that much.

Kazuha looked to the moon, the stars that bunched around it, seemingly glimmering. He wondered how much longer he would see this sight until the shadow figures would finally control his mind, stringing him up like a puppet, having no control of his own body. But for now, he let the wind climb through his thin hoodie, reminding him he was alive.

The days never seemed to slow down for him. He couldn’t stand to ask anyone for the date knowing he was weeks behind of work because all he did was sleep and defend himself from the shadows. He knew his parents would question him, asking the usual “are you okay?” or “Do you need anything?”. It was sweet that they cared enough to ask but he could never let out the hurt he had caged up inside of himself.

He had done this to himself, never letting out tears or words that would concern people, instead he found himself forcing a small smile that always seemed to do the trick, and cage inside the bad feelings once again. His friends never questioned him much either, occasionally they would but who would care about someone like Kazuha? He couldn’t care for himself, so why should others?

He had missed so many wonderful journeys all because he wasn’t ready to face them, he didn’t have any energy, or just couldn’t bring himself to drag himself out of bed. The sheets that covered him seeming to be his only line of defense against the shadows that always came back. Every time he had managed to make them leave, they only came back stronger and larger than before.

They made his mind fuzzy and tired, filling his head full of thoughts that showed him finally committing. He let those shadows creep into his mind all the time, trying his hardest to ignore all those thoughts but it was only so long until he had to finally give up and watch them.

How long was it gonna be until he finally broke?