Komahina; Over and Over

Chapter 7

A wave of anxiety hit me, as I sat there and looked up at Mikan, who looked so scared and worried. I didn't want her to experience these feelings. She had a rather large bag on her shoulder, it looked heavy for such a frail girl, perhaps I was just underestimating her. Hell, I certainly was too weak to lift something that looked that heavy. I assumed it had medical supplies inside.

I couldn't reply to that soft gasp, only flinching when she told me I look awful. Then before I could really do anything, she stepped in, dropped the bag, and threw her arms around my shoulders. She was gentle, somehow not putting any weight on me, even though I wouldn't of minded. After all, I'm in a damn office chair, she just lugged a heavy bag all that way. I feel guilt starting to set in. "Sorry, it's so late..." I mumble into her shoulder as I hug her back weakly. Mikan's never hugged me before. It's nice.

"Don't you worry about that, Nagito! I'm always here to help you, no matter if it's day or night." She combatted my apology hesitantly, as if part of her was still worried she was being too pushy somehow. It's kind of cute, in a way. She patted the back of my head sort of awkwardly, before she pulled away from the hug, finally shutting the front door. She locked it for me, that's one less thing I have to do. "What did you do earlier? Did you hurt yourself? Is that why you look so bad..?" She asked, looking nervous, probably because she was worried she was overstepping bounds by asking if I hurt myself.

I opened my mouth to speak, before she can apologize for asking too many questions. "I ah, yeah... I did... pretty badly, I guess.." I shrugged my shoulders, even that made me feel slightly weak. Then she looked down, to my arm, and when I followed her gaze, I realized I was absentmindedly patting an area where I cut myself. She wouldn't know by seeing, since I had bandages and two layers on, but I think she figured it out.

Mikan shook her head, letting out a slightly panicked, shaky sigh. "I should of come over earlier, after you called me... you told me not to- you said you'd be f-fine- I-" She stuttered, tears pooling in her eyes and then rolling down her cheeks. I could of sworn seeing her cry hurt more than cutting myself. "I'm so sorry, N-Nagito! I could of p-prevented this-" She cried harder. She hiccuped. I shook my head frantically.

"No, no, Mikan, it's ok! Don't blame yourself at all! It's probably good that you didn't come over, I- I blacked out and... thinking about it makes me afraid I would of hurt you if you tried to stop me..." I sighed heavily, eyes fixating on the floor, on my feet, my socks- they had tiny droplets of blood scattered on them. Figures. Why didn't I notice?

I felt hands on my shoulders. Soft, comforting, hands. I hear another hiccup, then Mikan's voice. "I'm just s-so glad you're okay. Let's get you to your bedr-" She was about to suggest, taking me to my bedroom, I could only immediately think of all the blood, and I cut her off before she could finish. "No, I don't... I don't want you to see the mess... please. I already feel bad that you're so kind, I don't want you to see what-" I choked a bit, and I felt her rub my shoulders, teary eyes. It was comforting. "I don't want you to see what came out of me..." I finally say, it's a bit hushed. "Will the couch work?"

"Of course."

So she wheeled me over to the couch, cleaning off more of Kazuichi's beer cans from it. I apologized for him, but she just said she didn't mind the mess. She was so understanding, so gentle, so kind. She helped me move from the swivel chair to the couch, and I was honestly surprised how well she could support my weight, was I seriously that thin? I watched her bring over her large bag, and dig through it. She glanced up at me. "Ah, N-Nagito... if you don't feel too exposed, could you take your sweater off? I'm sorry, it's such an intrusive question but um... it'll be easier to look at your wounds." She spoke nervously.

So she came to the conclusion it would be my upper body that was injured. She's smart, or maybe it was a go to, most people slice their wrists when they cut. I felt a little flustered, and equally embarrassed, realizing she wouldn't just see my arm then. She'd see my chest, my stomach- both covered in scars. Though it was necessary, I suppose, I'd address the high possibility of her being disgusted by my body later. Right now, she was trying to help.