Tethered (STOLITZ)

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!!HUGE TW FOR SELF HARM!!

Blitz blinked as the familiar sting of his father's words resurfaced, flooding his mind all over again. His eyes wandered toward the TV, but the show had become nothing more than background noise. He wasn't really watching it anymore. The image of the horses on the wall from his childhood blurred in his mind, those childish drawings, the way he'd spent hours on them, trying to create something that would mean something... to someone.

A bitter laugh escaped his throat, harsh and hollow. "Not worth a goddamn thing." The words bounced around inside his mind like a cruel echo. It was easy to push them down, easier to act like they didn't matter anymore. But sometimes... sometimes it felt like they were the only words that had ever mattered.

He leaned back on the couch, his fingers gripping the cushion beneath him like it might slip away. The silence felt heavy now. You're a joke. You're nothing but a plaything. The voice in his head wasn't even his father's anymore; it had become an unwanted guest in his own mind, a constant reminder of his worth; or lack of it.

His gaze flicked to the window, eyes barely processing the soft glow of city lights outside. He could almost hear his father's voice in his head, as if to remind him of everything he had lost- that fleeting approval, the attention that Blitz had never gotten from the one person who should've cared. The one person who never had the damn decency to even try.

But Fizzarolli... he was the golden child. The one who could do no wrong. And Blitz? Well, he was just the clown. The one who could make people laugh, but never make them stay. He could be the life of the party, the center of attention, but when the lights dimmed, he was always the first to be forgotten.

Blitz scoffed. "At least I made 'em laugh" he muttered to himself, but He knew damn well that meant nothing if he couldn't make himself laugh.

For a moment, a small part of him wondered if he'd ever feel anything real again. If anyone would ever see past the jokes, the loud laugh, the unruliness. If he could stop being so damn afraid of people finding out who he really was underneath all the chaos, Fucking, and unruliness.

But that part of him quickly silenced itself. Blitz had learned that vulnerability wasn't safe. Vulnerability meant getting hurt. Getting left behind. Being a little attention seeking bitch.

He closed his eyes, squeezing the back of his neck with one hand, trying to fight back the rising ache in his chest. The last thing he needed was to feel something now. Not when he was so damn close to being forgotten... just like he always had been.

But... what if feeling something was what he needed? What if what he needed was to silence the whisper in his head with something else? He glanced at the boxcutter on the table beside him. No... no. Cutting is bad. That is no way to Self regulate any emotion. But... the release... it was tempting. The chance to silence it, to silence everything, to feel the comforting warmth of fresh blood running down his wrist, silent thoughts.