Chapter Text
"Takemichi Has changed."
The sentence itself made Takemichi want to bust out laughing.
'Yeah Sure,' The rest of his friends didn't know what exactly made him the way he became so suddenly, Nor did they know the way as to why Takemichi's eyes darkened so deeply, And truthfully Takemichi couldn't blame them. He would look at their point of view and understand why they were taken aback, But to the gods and above Takemichi swore he wanted to scream and cry yelling and telling them that the reason why he looked so worn out, dissociated, and tired was because of them.
But Hanagaki would never do that, Why? Because the guilt of even having those thoughts makes him physically fucking sick. Every time he has such thoughts of blaming and degrading his friends he wants to recoil in disgust at himself and his brain.
He loved them, All of them. He really did. He knew that they cared enough to even die for him. Or to be happy to die in his arms, To rely upon and tell all their thoughts and problems to him. Truthfully, Takemichi felt a bit special when it came to this. Feeling needed was never something he had experienced as a child nor as an adult in his past life. So seeing that such important people, Such as Mikey, Draken, Chifuyu, Inupi, and more, Had trusted and liked takemichi to call him a friend or commander made a bubbling feeling in his stomach.
He should be grateful, He tells himself that every day after he wakes up in the morning and when he goes to sleep at night.
Yet despite those constant reminders that yelled in the back of his brain to keep him in his place, He couldn't help but feel some sort of resentment toward them. It felt horrible, His gut turned every time he looked at the president of the Tokyo Manji gang, But from his point of view, would you think you could forgive your killer? One that you spent so much time trying to help just in the end for them to stab you straight in the heart.
'It's normal to have some sort of resentment', Said the small voice in the back of Takemichi's mind. Which he wanted to agree with so badly.
But who is he to blame others for? When he was the one to fuck up and destroy their lives in the first place.
Takemcihi knew that the power he had been given by the gods was not something to be tampered with, nor should it have been taken lightly. It should be used for good and great, But what Hanagaki didn't understand was, Why was he given it? When he was neither of those things.
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Takemichi didn't notice the way Draken and Mikey would scrunch their nose every time they passed by him, Or not that he didn't notice. He just chose not to.
They should be used to it really, It's quite normal for delinquents to have smoked a cigarette or two. The smell was something you'd pretty much get familiar with after having spent months with a gang. Yet every time he had seen the expression, he was always ticked off at the solemn look in their eyes as they watched him. The bleached-blond didn't know why it pissed him off so much. It just did.
They've tried to bring it up before, they're not the only ones who have. Hina, Chifuyu, And even Mitsuya which he wasn't that close to during this period of time had tried to talk about it with him.
But all that came out of his mouth were endless lies, Made to get them off his ass. None of them were truthful after all, since they were white spews of words and events that had never happened. The blonde knew they could tell that he was being dishonest, But they could also tell that if Takemichi didn't want to mention it, Then they would have to leave the topic alone until he would do it himself. He was always stubborn like that.
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Hanagaki Takemichi felt guilty. Of a lot of things actually.
Whether it be how bad he was working in the CD shop, Constantly stumbling and dropping things left and right. To how bad he was at fighting, and not being to be strong enough to defend his friends so easily like Mikey or Draken.
Or maybe how no matter what future he has had in his past, each one had always managed to be messed up and destroyed by him. The one future of him where he got so easily manipulated by Kisaki and even helped the murder of Hinata.
Or the 2nd one where he could've accomplished a happy future with Mikey if he hadn't just left Toman, Or was that the 3rd? He couldn't remember anymore.
Sometimes Takemichi had wondered what would his life be like if he hadn't gone to the train station that day. If he had just stayed home and continued to watch the television.
'Boring.' is what he thinks. Boring and on a constant loop that continued to repeat. Just like the other days he spent in his first life. But even if it was boring or a pointless road to nowhere, He was at least safe. Cozy and comfortable.
He didn't have to deal with someone constantly trying to kill him nor did he have to deal with sore body aches, rough bloody scrapes, scaps, and bruised skin. Or the title "Crybaby" which he learned to hate so much during his time on earth, Nor did he have to deal with that stupid fucking voice and nickname-
'Shit.' The blonde spat at his thoughts once again.
Gripping his hair and sighing softly, he stared at the picture frame sitting on the top of his dresser. Hesitantly, he began walking towards his drawer. Opening the first wooden cabinet, before searching. Trying to find that one thing-!
"Ah" Takemichi stared at it for a while, contemplating if he was about to do this. Clicking his tongue, he grabbed the boxcutter and began clicking up and moving the blade.
Sitting down on his bed now he raised his arm down and stared for another good minute.
"It's only a one-time thing. No one would suspect it, either way, I'm always getting hurt after all" The blonde said to himself, as he began to run the blade horizontally slowly across his mid-high-arm deeply, but not enough to burst any veins. And soon enough as he was finished with the first cut, beads of dribbling blood had begun to sprout out of the wound. Dripping down his arm so satisfyingly slow. The burn on his arm spread through that one spot.
The pain was enough to make takemichi twitch his eye a bit, but nothing like a gun bullet rammed in your heart, Or the feeling of being nearly beaten to death.
The pain was, Just right.
Quickly, takemichi soon began to notice the way blood began to drip on his carpet. He hissed and ran to grab the toilet paper beside his bed (Which of course he had right next to his bed as a horny middle schoolboy.)
A couple of minutes had passed already, and Takemichi was finally done with scrubbing the absolute shit out of his carpet. And cleaning up his arm. He plopped on his bed and looked up at the ceiling.
His head was empty for once in his life. No noise or movement coming from his body. Almost so silent that he could hear the blood in his ears plumping.
Sadly for him, the quiet didn't stay for long though. As another voice in his head began to pop up.
'Let's do another one again?'
Takemichi had only bit his lip. Before he grabbed the blade next to him once again, And a cigarette from his bag.