Work Text:
Wataru sajo looked down at the newly purchased disposable razor. This one was smaller than his last one. At least he thinks it was. It's been nearly a month since he threw away his last two.
Nearly a month since he vowed not to purchase a new one.
Nearly a month since he'd last cut…
And God did he miss it.
He missed the sensation, the pain, the feeling of a deserved punishment for any mistake he'd made during the day.
He missed the pain.
He wanted the pain.
He needed the pain…
…
He needed to die.
But he couldn't go that far. He didn't want to make his parents, and kaede grieve him, if they even cared that is. His family wasn't exactly the type to talk about these kinds of things. Whilst he did resent them, nobody deserved to see their son/Brother bleeding out on a bathroom floor.
So this would have to do for now.
…
He put the razor against his thigh, holding it there. Try as he might, part of him really didn't want this. He's been clean for around a month. He can't screw that up. Plus he promised himself he wouldn't do this anymore.
Wataru felt tears build up in his eyes. He wanted this so badly. He needed it. But the idea sickened him, not because he felt he didn't deserve it, but because he didn't want to break his streak. Clean for nearly a month. He hasn't been clean for that long in a while, the longest before this time being three weeks clean before Aika said something particularly hurtful on an already horrible day.
If he relapsed now, would he ever be able to stay clean for a month again? Or would he just never stop this time? Would he keep going until the day he died?
Or would he cause his own premature death?
Wataru had considered suicide a shameful amount of times. And nearly went through with an attempt twice. Or was it three? He couldn't remember.
If you squinted you could still see the faint scars on his arm. And the missing arm hair, thought that was less noticeable.
These new scars though would have to be on his legs. While in winter his school coat/jacket was perfect for covering his arms, in the summer it was miserable, and people would definitely question him on why he would insist on wearing it.
But he almost never wore shorts, even at home he preferred his usual jeans or sweatpants. So it'd be much more unlikely for anyone to notice.
So the legs it is then…
Gritting his teeth he slid the razor across his legs and instantly felt the familiar singing sensation. The pain.
The release…
He kept going…
Cut. Cut. Cut.
He moved to his other thigh and did a couple more…
Cut. Cut. Cut.
He felt dizzy. But better. The negative thoughts no longer shouting in his head, insulting him. Urging him to punish himself.
Because at the end of the day that's what this is right? His punishment.
What he deserved for annoying everyone. His friends. His family.
What he deserved for annoying Aika…
This was his punishment. He deserved this. He needed this…
He looked down at his thighs, they were bleeding. Oh well, nothing a bandaid can't cover up, right?
But he'd do that later, when he felt less dizzy. Right now he just wanted to take a small nap, while the voices in his head were quiet. Maybe he could get some decent rest now.
His parents and Kaede were out, and not supposed to be back for a few hours. So he didn't have to worry about Hogging the bathroom and facing his sister's wrath.
So he curled up into a ball, leaning against the bathtub. Covering his eyes and allowing peaceful darkness to over take him.
Maybe tomorrow he'd regret breaking his streak. But right now he couldn't say he did.