His Heart, His Home

I

Liming felt like his head was going to burst at any time. With an already started cigarette between his fingers he held his head in his hands.

The music was blowing his ears through the headphones, this was the only way he had to stop thinking. Taking a long inhale from the cigarette, he let's his head fall backwards and hit softly the wall behind him. The sky is full of chirping birds that he can't hear through the music.

He's fucked up. That's all he can't stop thinking about, even when the burning on his throat intensifies as he gives yet another long drag to the cig. He is shaking.

In about half an hour he will have to go to school. He already skipped the first hours, and his academic record is going down fall, much more like his life right now.

With the cigarette in his hand, he lets out a shaky breath, he can feel his pulse picking up and his breathing quickening. He's having an anxiety attack, much to his delight.

He can't wait to be surrounded by teenagers his age and see how much life they have inside them, while he dies a little more. He hates school. The due assignments already passed their deadline. He doesn't know how he will catch up, but that's a problem for future Liming.

The analytic puncture is stabbing on his inner part of his elbow. He presses there lightly to let the pain invade his nicotine clouded mind. He misses Heart.

Suddenly, he feels his eyes fill up with tears. A broken sob breaks through his shaking lips, red from the nibbles the anxiety provoked. He holds his knees closer to his chest and lets his head fall on top of them. He can't breath. The music feels louder than it was a minute before. He can feel the material of the shirt digging into his skin, everything is so intense around him that all he can do is shake his head, desperately trying, and failing, to stop feeling anything at all.

Heart.

He needs Heart. Needs his shampoo-like-scent to fill his nostrils instead of the burning smell of the almost finished cig. He needs his arms around him, holding him close and making feel like he's down to earth instead of the smoke that surrounds him. He wants Heart's presence clouding his mind like the nicotine does, knowing full well that Heart would be much more pleasant than this.

He needs Heart's lips kissing him till he can't think, insead of the cigarette, now between his lips once again, taking a long and last drag, before throwing it to the side.

He's fucked up, but he will go through this day, like others before. Knowing damn well that, at the end of his hellhole, Heart will be there, waiting for him with his arms open and a smile on his lips. Holding him and pressing his ears like he did countless times before, when everything was too much, until he can hear nothing, shutting down the voices in his head. Playing with his hair until he drifts to sleep. With his Heart by his side. His home. 

i wrote this while i was high, and anxious, im lit just writing my feelings out into liming. ANYWAYS I HOPE YOU ALL LIKED IT <4