On The Rooftops - - - Iwaoi Au

- Veins, Skin, and Blades -

🆃🆁🅸🅶🅶🅴🆁🆂 :: BLOOD, BLADES, CRYING, INTRUSIVE THOUGHTS, IGNORED MENTAL HARM, MENTAL ABUSE, SELF HARM, UN-CONSENTED TOUCH, CHAINS/CUFFS, DESCRIPTIVE INJURIES/PAIN, NAUSEA/PUKING, PANIC ATTACKS, HAIR PULLING, SLURS AGAINST THE LGBTQIA+ COMMUNITY, STRONK LANGUAGE, SUICIDE MENTIONS (READ THE FUCKING DISCLAIMER)

Stay safe!! What is your favorite show/movie??

(DISCLAIMER: I do not slur the lgbtqia+ community. I am apart of it myself and do not direct it at anyone apart of the Alphabet Mafia, nor our allies. I do not feel entirely comfortable using it, but I am in fact doing it because it adds effect and my book is supposed to be angsty/smutty. Please take into consideration and do not hate on the fact I put the word 'Faggot' in my book. Ty!! P.S. I am a tri-gender, pan sexual, and please refer to me as He or they. I am fine with her, but it makes me uncomfy.)

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Oikawa cried into his blood stained forearm, hot tears and red liquid dripped on the marbled sink. He tore at his soft skin, leaving cuts on top of old scabs and other scars. His skin was red from the thick substance pouring from his arm. He didn't want to cut himself, but he loved the sight of blood steadily leading it's way down his wrist. He lifted his face from his forearm and shakily looked up at his slit wrist.

He sighed at the view of the blood, calming himself down. He placed the blade back down, letting the blood lightly splatter off of it on to the already bloodied sink. He gagged at the sight of blood after being calmed by the same picture. He leaned over the toilet and spilled his guts and bile. Coughing and gagging, blood still slipping down his wrists. His tears still fell down, hot and wet. He was glad the door was locked, but he had lots of problems now. Bloodied sink, bile filled toilet, and cuts on his wrists. He laid his head on the toilet bowl, calming down.

After a few minutes, he got to his feet, swaying a bit to gain his balance. He washed his hands and wrists, patching them up and cleaning the blood to hide evidence. He cleaned the smeared blood from the counter, putting each blood soaked paper towel inside the toilet bowl. After, he flushed his evidence down the toilet. Now the bathroom was as he found it. And his wrist stung with pain. He still had tears going down his flushed cheeks, and his eyes puffy and heavy.

He didn't want to sleep. It was now four am, the normal time for him to slit his wrist. He was up and almost ready for the day now.

'Sunday. I guess I'll check out the news before my parents wake up.' Oikawa thought, tossing himself downstairs to the living room. He took the remote and swiped at it, clicking an app. Going to the news, he saw; '53 year old woman, Kitsumo Iwaizumi murdered at early morning, police suspect young son to have killed her.' he watched, not paying attention to the reporter, but to the house and people around them. He saw someone in a light blue shirt leaning against a cop car, before slamming his head backwards on the cars' roof. The reporter flinched, looking at the what seemed to be male.

Oikawa clicked off the TV, knowing he'd get in trouble if they saw him, recalling last nights' affairs. Tears lightly pooled in his eyes, as always, when he was scared. He trudged upstairs, grabbing a towel and stumbling into the bathroom. He dropped the towel, stripping and stepping into the shower. He turned on the water,

Cold.
It's all I ever feel.
Frozen.
Locked.
Shattering.
Fragile.
Breakable.
Useless.
Disgusting.
Helpless.
Waste.
Slut.
Liar.
Whore.
Puppet.