A Bloodborne Tragedy

Sho's POV

Sho watched as Daniel left, almost screaming profanities and degradation. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get Daniel to come back. "Daniel, please, just let me explain—" He started, but was quickly cut off by a jarring, angry, exclamation. "I've heard enough out of you!" He tried and he tried and he tried again and again and again to calm Daniel down. This was what he feared would come of his admittance. Now the one person he'd ached for was gone again. He could only watch as the dirt kicked up down the road and his silhouette faded with the horizon. He felt empty knowing that what he'd wanted for so long was ruined once in his reach. It was as if a long healed scar tore open again he bled anew.

Suppressed feelings bubbled up and before he knew it his living room was a mess. The beautiful couch was upturned with cotton spilling from the new holes ripped all around it. The table beside it was a mess of splintered wood and the lamp was shattered. Shattered glass and oil stained the wall where he'd thrown it. A window was shattered after he'd thrown a chair through it in his fit of rage. Once he ran out of visible objects to destroy he sat in a corner and mumbled to himself. To lose Daniel again? After he'd tried so hard to covet him this time? It made him sick as his nails tore down his arms. His breathing quickened but a lump in his throat causing him to double over and heave, yet nothing came from it but tears. He kept scratching, digging deeper each time until his arms were a mangled canvas of white tissue already beginning to mend and scar.

It was like that for days. A cycle of destruction fueled by the turmoil he felt grieving somebody who wasn't even dead. Not anymore. His house being a mess was an understatement. It looked like somebody had broken in with all the broken furniture. Even the bedroom which once looked so pristine was possibly the worst room in the house. The small bed he'd insisted against when he bought the house years ago was a heap of firewood thrown aimlessly in the corner. Every step Sho took was accompanied by another glass shard or splinter embedded in his skin. One day he'd heard a knock, but didn't dare answer. It was too fast, too hard. It wasn't like Daniel, and that pained him more. When he'd heard his boss yell out for him, he stayed silent. The man could think he was dead, or kidnapped, or far away and unable to work. He couldn't work, not now. Not with his unbleeding wounds all over, not given a chance to heal before a new one was made. It almost looked like he was mauled by a bear without the sickly red liquid.

Not with the burning desire to destroy that went through him every time his mind wandered back to Daniel. It was driving him crazy knowing he was out there, so close in the small world there was, but so far. Who knew where he was now. He was in another town, another city, possibly even another state. And he was terrified of Sho. Every time he remembered their last conversation he could only sit and cry and dig Into himself over and over again. An unbreakable cycle. Destruction, tears, Daniel, repeat.