Written in the Stars

Five - Breaking of Monotony

(⚠️CW/TW: aftermath of self harm, mentions of suicide, mentions of past abuse and really unhealthy coping mechanisms that Four has for it, yet another near death experience (please stop trying to die, Four), substance abuse. Viewer discretion is advised.⚠️)

Tuesday, December 17th, 202█.

Four woke up uncomfortably early again, with barely any recollection of how they got back in bed last night. All the pain of their flesh was still there, now paired with one hell of a headache. It was like the universe wanted them to suffer as much as possible.

Their own nail wounds had already scabbed over, as evidenced by the dried blood on their sheets and the sets of them running down their forearms. They seem to have delved further into harm after the last part they remembered, with speckles of picked skin and new long scratches all around. They don't remember anything past their initial breakdown last night, and that made their situation all the worse.

Groaning as they got up, Four shuffled off to find their jacket, at the very least, attempting to conceal what they'd done to themselves, even if just for a few brief moments. They didn't have any bandages lying around their house, not that they knew of, so unfortunately, they'd have to force themselves into yet another conversation with X. Maybe the universe was out to get them.

Were they even up yet? It was still dark out, the sun just barely peeking through the treeline at six in the morning, so it'd be odd if they were. Grabbing their new winter boots, they started to head over, reluctantly looking for any signs of X being awake as they walked past their windows.

Four knocked lightly upon their door, not wanting to wake them if they did happen to be asleep. They may be an asshole at heart, but they weren't a monster. They had standards, for Infinity's sake.

A few moments went by, with Four just standing out in the cold, tapping their boot against the concrete porch in impatience as they waited with strained levels of how long they could stand out here without getting pissy about it. The wounds weren't helping in that circumstance, either.

But as they started to reach that point, X opened the door to them, looking up to assess who it was for a moment, before smiling and opening the door more for them.

"Four, my best friend!" X labeled them in speech, making Four shift a bit like there were bugs crawling around under their skin. They didn't like people being "friends" with them, it just meant they'd get attached and then ripped away when it would hurt the most. "What are you doing, still standing out in the cold? Come in, you're always welcome!"

"Thanks, I guess," Four mumbled, their headache fading as they crossed over the threshold. They swore there was some witchcraft fuckery going on here, there's no goddamn way that every time they came in, they always felt better physically. X has to have something going on, they were sure of it.

"Look, I had a really... rough time last night," Four excused, glossing over the important details of them going through extreme mental anguish and causing the harm they were here for. They didn't need to know that. "I don't have any first aid stuff at my house, so do you mind if I use some of yours to patch myself up?"

"Of course, Four. Sit down, I'll go get my stuff for you. Do you want a snack or something?" X asked as Four accepted their offer to sit down, keeping their hands on their knees and off the couch like the two of them were complete strangers to one another.

"No thanks. I just came for the aid," they responded, rubbing the back of their head where the scar from that time they almost died lay, just a bump of unpleasant memories, right at the touch of their fingertips. Four watched as X traveled to their kitchen, leaving them alone in their warm living room.