sunflower showers - a denki oneshot book

💔 he loves me, he loves me n o t 💔

not me shamefully projecting onto denki-

tw - suicidal ideation, thoughts of self harm))

He doesn't love you. He never will.

Denki sighed as the thought replayed in his mind for the hundredth time that night alone. These nights were rough- the ones where his mind clung onto the most prevalent bad thought in his life at the time and replayed it, rubbing the reality in. Was it the reality? Who knew at this point.

He already knew he was annoying. He already knew he was ugly. And stupid. And unworthy of love. Why did his brain have to rub it in? Remind him of it every waking second of the last few days. Nothing even seemed to trigger it. It just... started.

He was really trying to get better. Really trying to recover, be happy. He didn't want to spend the last few years of his adolescence wanting to die, trying to die. He had tried too many times- how was he still alive at this point? Who, or what, wanted him to stay on earth so badly? Was there some sort of reason he was still here, or was he really just so bad at everything that he couldnt even kill himself right?

He doesn't love you. He never will.

Right, back to the matter at hand.
He was hopelessly in love with Hitoshi Shinsou- and they were pretty good friends. They didn't see each other often due to conflicting schedules and different classes, but they still texted whenever they could. Every time they talked, Denki fell harder and harder. And every time he fell deeper in love, his brain never forgot to remind him that Shinsou hasn't fallen at all. And never will. 

God, he was so lonely. He would spend the rest of the night like most of these nights- curled up on the floor with his weighted blanket, listening to his saddest playlist and crying quietly to himself as he desperately searched for a single reason not to hurt himself. A single reason to stay.

And so, as the sun set, he grabbed his weighted blanket, curled up on the floor, and put on his music.

Who knows what will happen next? Who knows if his impulsiveness would get the better of him? Make this lonely, rainy night his last? Lay his empty, barren soul to rest, the only remnants of him being a vague feeling of melancholy in the hearts of those who loved him. 

But, his mind added. They'll soon realize they don't need you. They never did. 

And he cried.