Stone Cold /discontinued/

Moonage daydream

PLEASE PLEASE PLS TURN BACK NOW IF YOU ARE SENSITIVE TO ANY OF THESE WARNINGS, THIS CHAPTER COULD BE MORE TRIGGERING
⚠️References to blood, trauma, detailed injury description, abuse, death, and suicidal actions⚠️ told u
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~previously~

Despite the obvious reason to stay, Shouto carelessly swivelled his bruised legs over the side of the bed, staggering upon the cold floor as his head span. Making his way over to the window, Shouto unlatched it and lunged himself onto the thick grass that cushioned his decline. Subconsciously, Shouto heaved himself up, bottom lip trembling and mind going blank from shock as a thick layer of tears distorted his already blurred vision.

Wobbling away from the hospital, Shouto fled, numb legs hauling him back home as if he were a puppet controlled by strings, directing him towards the house of nightmares and he dared not imagine what lay behind those doors this time.

~
3rd person PoV:
(I apologise if this chapter seems rushed and less descriptive as some parts of this I felt uncomfortable to write, I hope you understand)

Numb legs dragged Shouto along the vacant pavement, the occasional cars that passed brieflY decorating his tattered figure with the gleam of their headlights but unlike rays of sunlight puncturing threads of light through storm clouds, this light communicated him no affection, no solitude from the bitter night as if its mere purpose was to emphasize his sunken in eyes, pale skin pigmented similarly to melting snow upon a cherry blossom delicately licked by the dim glow of the setting sun and his fragile image caressed by the delicate fabric of his hospital gown that clung to his slim figure. 

It shone every inch of his dishevelled form as if it were a lone performer rehearsing a breakdown of the written character, with the sharp spotlights striking only the vacant metal seats reflections upon him, the actor's monotone expression only scraping the surface of the depth Of the characters misery.

Shouto's exposed feet held him up like wet clay, the exterior violated with the embrace of dried specks of mud and blood dribbling down the surface like a thick textUre of tears, imprisoning itself between the cracks and crevices of his frost-bitten skin from when a beer bottle shard, still damp and contaminated with a faint stench of alcohol, had sliced the arch of his heel. The pain from the injury dull to his distracted mind, having already dealt with much more serious injuries.

Shouto did not even register when this injury had taken place, yet his care for that matter was restricted, only the destination ahead worthy of his devoted attention.

Shouto progressed, the uneven pavement nipping against his sore soles as the dismal gleam of the setting sun muted the intensity of his deathly pale skin, drooping beLow the horizon as if incapable to witness the events that awaited him.

In the distance, Shouto faintly registered the outline of a familiar building, its structure so elegantly decorated in a traditional Japanese style as if the anguish of what lay within were so unnervingly horrific that they had to paint the exterior with expensive ornaments and intense colours to make it seem even remotely appealing to the Outside world.

Despite knowing what was to come, Shouto remained conscious of the potential severity of his sister's condition. With his father's violent personality and significant status in society, the man would have no problem concealing a crime. Keeping that in mind, ShoutO practically bolted like Usain Bolt towards the pristinely clean front door, adrenaline-pumping throughout his body as if readying him for what was to potentially meet his gaze.