FMS ONESHOTS!!!!

(TR) Drowning of Guilt

[TW- S#ICIDE ATTEMPT]

The moon was shining through the clouds, making the area feel much brighter than it actually was. Without the moon, the mood would be much more appropriate; miserable, dull, and cold. Many would think it's the opposite, considering a beach is known to be beautiful and warm.

Of course, at night there were no people. No one to give that warmth. Only cold water and little critters running against the sand. The beach was small, but the descent into the water was steep.

Elite laid in the sand, unmoving, staring as the clouds slowly passed by above him. It'd been late, he should be asleep. M was asleep, and the village was quiet. Any sane person would be asleep, with a lantern slowly dying next to them. With their body under the covers, only body heat and thick blankets for a comfortable heat.

He wasn't sane, clearly.

His hair only got more knotted as he adjusted himself into the sand. It never really was neat. Elite slowly moved a hand to mess with it, feeling grains of sand fall between each strand.

A few hundred thoughts were muddling his brain. It was hard to think of anything clearly, only the feeling it gave him. He knew what it was, but didn't like to pinpoint it clearly. Usually, it only made things worse. It made it hard to be around M, or anybody. Elite thought of it like a cloud over his head.

Well, no one was around now. All he could do was let that cloud fog his vision.

Those feelings ate at the underside of his skin, like a worm between the dirt, or a caterpillar eating at a flowers. That was it- little bugs biting at his innards, a constant reminder of everything.

"...'m sorry." He mumbled to himself. No one was around to hear it, not even the birds.

Water licked at his feet. They were already barefoot, already aching from bits of rock and dirt he'd stepped through. He was barely dressed in the first place. A t-shirt and some long pants in the freezing cold; he wasn't really sane.

"I'm sorry." It felt almost unnatural to say, but he'd gotten used to mumbling it to himself. He hadn't ever said it to another person yet though, no, he never could decide what was the right time or how to say it.

The water was soaking his pants. It was only getting stronger by the minute. A few drops of rain fell on him. A storm was coming.

Elite told himself to get up, to go back to his house and stop trying to get himself killed. He told himself he hadn't lived this long to die to the cold or some blood, but it never helped. The more he tried to tell himself, the more he realized he barely cared at all.

The water hissed up faster, to his waist now.

What was the point? His body was weak, too injured from anything to be useful. His limbs grew thinner by the day, and he proved he was worthless. Couldn't eat properly, he didn't know how to. He tried to, but it was too much at a time.

He wondered how the villagers ate so much in just a day. He got told his stomach was small though.

The water ran higher, and the rain beat down harder.

M?

M hated him, must have. They lived together because the villagers didn't have another house for them to stay in separately. M tried to tell Elite it was okay, but who was he kidding?

He hadn't done anything to prove himself to M, hadn't done anything to anyone. M had suffered, with Twisted, with everything. Even now, he couldn't quite be happy. The Assistant still wouldn't turn on properly, it'd blink on and off or mumble a few words before turning off.