painting the galaxy was harder than we thought.

ice

[TW: mentions of self harm, slight gore, i will be placing a < at the beginning and end of each paragraph including these topics, skip to the > if you'd rather not read them]

Satori woke up, with a large pool of saliva dripping from his cheek onto the pillow. He squeaked as he noticed the body that lay next to him, t-shirt just barely folding off his collarbone. Wakatoshi was beautiful in his sleep, breathtaking, for lack of a better word. Satori pressed the pad of his index finger into the mans cheek, multiple times, to wake him.

"Good morning Toshi~" His voice was significantly deeper, registering as a growl that rumbled deep in the back of his throat.

Wakatoshi's eyes squinted open and he greeted his lover with a smile, one that he only flashed early in the mornings when light peeked through the window to dance against his face.

"Good morning, Satori." His smile slanted cheekily toward the left, exposing a fairly sharp canine, much like Semi's. Satori's hand moved to caress Wakatoshi's cheek, his thumb rubbing slight circles into the soft skin.

"Haaa! Can we just spend the whole day together like this, at home, doing nothing?" Satori leaned his head back to rest on the bed frame, pulling the covers up to his ear.

"If you'd like." Upon hearing those words, Satori planted a soft kiss on the man's cheek and got out of bed, padding into the kitchen of Wakatoshi's apartment. While he was still Semi's permanent roommate, he slept over at his soulmates house more often than not. He tiptoed over the cold tile that chilled his feet, and stopped at the fridge.

"Strawberries? Toshi!" He called out, waiting for the man to answer.

"Yes, thank you!"

Satori hummed and pulled out the plastic container of strawberries from the fridge, and placed a few in line on the counter to wash. He put them into a bowl and mixed them around in tap water for a few seconds, before drying them off and placing them on a cutting board. He slid a knife off of the knife rack and turned back toward the counter

<
The knife slid through the strawberries easily, as if it were cutting butter. Satori wondered how well it would slide through skin, easily and effortlessly. He closed his eyes and sucked in a breath, memories of the same feeling flooding back to him.

He was in his room, maybe around age eleven, with a small shard of glass he'd broken off his window. He rolled it around in his fingers, admiring the way it grazed along the palm of his hand. He rolled it once more, and shoved it into the first layer of skin on his thigh. He hissed, and dragged it horizontally to the right. The blood flowed out as if it had been in a cup just about to overflow. He winced as it flooded out, warm, and wet against his bedsheets. He ran to the bathroom and immediately dabbed at the cut with a wet glob of toilet paper.

In the next memory, he was in his high-school bathroom, a plastic knife hidden up his sleeve. He looked himself in the mirror, muttering small curses as he lifted up the front of his shirt to slice at his abdomen. Each motion becoming more aggressive than the last, until finally the entire right side of his stomach was torn and bloody. He dropped the knife in the trashcan and strode out, groaning with every step.

When Satori came back to reality, the cutting board was red with blood, and a searing pain came from his left forearm. He glanced down, noticing the slits that lined from his wrist all the way up to the crook of his elbow. He blinked, and gasped, running to the sink to wash his arm off.