𝓢𝓸𝓾𝓴𝓸𝓴𝓾 𝓞𝓷𝓮-𝓢𝓱𝓸𝓽𝓼

ꜰᴀᴄᴀᴅᴇ

TW: Cutting, Mentions of death.

Reposted from my one-shot book!

.

.

.

☯

He woke up, eyes wide, breathing heavily, and drenched in sweat.

It was that dream again.

His death.

His father figures were both gone.

One dead, the other... a traitor.

More often than not, the insomniac would unwrap his bandages and by the end of the night his wrists and forearms would be bloodied, scars littering the already damaged skin.

His happiness and teasing nature, all a thick mask, layering on his true self, only a mask his ex-partner could see through.

At least, he was the only living person.

This night was the same, his arms ended up scarred and bloody.

His breathing finally caught up to him, his panting stopping.

He couldn't get it out of his head, His Death.

He tried, he tried so hard to not do it, but without anybody - Chuuya - here to help him he just ended up in a heap, sobbing, his clothes stained with scarlet.

But what was the purpose?

Of anything?

Of living?

Just to die.

You live to die.

Why else?

Just like everybody else, you pass and go, never getting a second chance.

Oh, how he wished his partner - ex-partner was here with him, guiding him through the pain, telling him it'll all be okay.

He would've practically starved to death if it wasn't for the ginger, force-feeding him and taking care of him.

The Port Mafia was fun.

But it didn't last.