𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐘 | 𝐤𝐧𝐲

空白 | blank

~仕始める~

CW: eating disorder(s)

Yushiro's ears and nose were flushed red as the bitter cold nipped at his skin. You were napping upstairs, it was the only thing you could do to keep the hunger away.

You'd been starving yourself for what felt like forever, constantly having to adjust and break your body to accustom to your wishes. No matter how many times you'd try to rip out your own stomach, the hunger only grew more savage.

You were used to this sort of treatment from yourself for the most part. Using the blood that Yushiro had to keep anything harmful at bay. You'd been spending most of your hours in your room, curling up in your bed with the messy covers, finding their way off the futon and on to the hard floor. Chachamaru kept you company most of those days, laying between your legs or by your rump. Softly snoring by your side as your body destroys and reassembles itself.

Yushiro was separated from you, he couldn't stand seeing you. He couldn't help you, and you couldn't come downstairs without smelling the frozen meat hidden under the house. He felt so useless when it came to you sometimes, to the point where he'd spend hours back-to-back doing nothing but drowning in his self-pity. You had always valued life, he always admired you for your resolve to preserve it. However, the way your body was built called for something else. It called for your killing, it called for you to punish and feed off the people below you.

From as long as he'd known you as a demon, you had mainly eaten murderers or anybody indecent. You couldn't consume simply blood, the way your abilities where simply wasn't enough. There was simply too much power to feed.

He was seated at the low table gazing at the dancing colors on the television, the gibberish coming out of the man's mouth barely audible for him to process. It was a news channel for the city the two of you lived in. Both you and Yushiro hated one thing when it came to humans, the invention of politics.

There was no right answer nor negotiation, and it was just so annoying to deal with all the time. Especially to the point where something troublesome for the two of you came up, neither of you had legal documents so there was no reason for you to be involved in any of those things. Paying taxes was beyond you, however anything to entertain you.

A loud groan left your throat, Yushiro heard it muffled through the thin ceiling. His heart sank as he heard you, in pain. He debated on keeping you company, that would help you... Right? Seeing him could distract you from the pain in your stomach, but there was the creeping thought that he might end up offending you because he didn't have to endure the hunger you were. That could never be true no matter what kind of circumstance of pain you were going through, but Yushiro was saving himself more than anything.

Another drawn out groan, more muffled than the last. You were shoving your face into your worn pillow, stuffing invading your throat as you dug your fangs into the soft material. Hoping to relax your jaw.

You were unpredictable, it was something both Yushiro and yourself couldn't stand sometimes. Ever since the longing to see the neighborhood children bring you gifts, the thought of hurting someone was heartache enough to make you sob. The man you killed in the alleyway, he was once a child, picking flowers and clover in his yard. The murderer which you devoured in 1923, he was on the wrong path, only 24 years old with no hope of ever redeeming himself. Everyone was once a small innocent child, life is priceless to you.

It was the guilt that was eating you more than your own stomach. Chachamaru sighed once they settled in better into your mess of blankets. Yushiro trailed upstairs, slowly...

His weight under the wooden floors made the house creak, temporarily fixing your senses to what was approaching you.

Yushiro found you in the position you usually were in, curled up in some sort of miserable state while the cat laid beside you.

"Life is precious, isn't it?" Yushiro mumbled, seeing your pained expression from his words made his stomach churn.

You didn't reply, you stood still in his presence.

"It's precious... Isn't it?" he repeated, his brows familiarly furrowed.

You remained silent, his unique persistence catching you off guard, instead you buried your face into the broken fabric of your pillow.

"If life is so precious, why do you feel mercy for the murderers you killed? They died to help you; they don't even deserve that kind of mind. Especially from someone like you," he lowered himself towards you, sitting cross-legged near your head.

Your voice wasn't audible as you spoke, too muffled by the pillow to understand.

He scoffed, "You know I can't hear you, stop with this identity crisis, this is how we live. Like it or not, you can try to fix yourself to my diet, but it'll take close to a century to get there comfortably."

You turned your head to the position where it was before, "You have a valid point, but my pride isn't ready for that."

"You're starting to sound like me, maybe I'm rubbing off on you too much," you remained silent, "Sure those people were all children, innocent and cute or whatever. You were a child once, even though you can't remember. All those people that were killed had it coming one way or another, it's bad karma. But instead, its you that's acting on it."

Pregnant silence, Chachamaru's quiet snores filled the room.

Yushiro huffed, "I'm no good at things like this, but I care about you. Please eat, if not for you, do it for me. Do it for Lady Tamayo, and all the future people that are going to be blessed by meeting you. We have a long way to go, we've only just begun."

You turned to him, the pain in your stomach still present but dulled. You reached your arms out, lips meeting in a sweet but short kiss. It hurts, emotionally and physically. It hurt him seeing you in so much pain.

His pride is on thin ice, close to giving into the warmth you provided for him. He loved you more than he could say.

Lady Tamayo seemed so beneath it all, the painting of her inside Yushiro's mind was distorted and blurred. Wet oil acrylics didn't sit right on the canvas, the blending killing all life inside the painting.

It melted away. It was no longer Tamayo's face anymore... Was it? Her fine features are gone. Instead it was blank, eye sockets black and empty, cheeks undefined and pale.

Yushiro didn't know anymore as he sketched, your unconscious form by his side still on your futon. Lifeless and dull, blank.

White space.

~終了~

im not dead !!