Cuts of Love - Yaoi Story BoyxBoy

Chapter 3 - Paint

Trigger Warning: Self-harm in this chapter!

I ran. I had no idea where I was going, and no idea where I would end up. The sky darkened and it started to rain, drops poured down on my face, blending with the tears.

I looked up at the sky, blinking heavily if a raindrop splashed into my eyes.

Why did he do that? What did he mean "I'll never leave your side?" Why did I run away? What did he mean by I'm the one who saved him?

Questions clogged my mind, I had no idea of how to answer them. I had no idea of how to release them.

Yes you do.

The voice. My hands clutched my head. No! It couldn't reach me, I couldn't hear it, and it was not there.

The rain beat down.

I ran again, except in a direction that I knew.

Home.

Do it.

Footsteps splashed in the puddles.

When you get there, do it.

The rain poured down onto my hair.

Trust me. It's the only way.

The house swam into my view, I ran to the door, unlocked it and stopped, panting for breath.

I tossed my bag on the counter, glancing at the envelopes on the table.

"Bills." I muttered.

I turned and walked up the stairs and I entered into the furthest room.

A shape lay in the dark of the room, it smelled stale, like something had been dying for a long time.

The figure was wrapped up tightly in the sheets, I had grown out of the hait of checking for movement of any telltale breathing as I had to learn that muscles contract if you are no longer alive. The curtains were open, rain lashed against the glass. I tiptoed over, and drew the curtains shut.

I ignored the figure in the bed, as it did the same.

Then I walked out of the room, letting the door shut behind me.

See? Everyone ignores you. Acts like you don't exist. You know it, admit it. Do something about it. Let your emotions show. Do it!

I walked along the hallway, and entered my room, locking the door behind me. Not that I needed to. I just wanted to feel the privacy. I didn't want the shame to leave the room, and follow me.

Let your emotions well up, drip, drip, drip. There that feels better doesn't it? Hurry up.

I laid my head in my hands, tears threatened to spill over.

"Shut up! I don't want to!"

Don't lie to me. That's all you do. Lie. Let at least one part of you know the truth. Do it. Cut.

My legs moved automatically, I found the razor blade hidden at the bottom of my drawer, sharp enough to slice the skin of my finger when handling it.

Where will you do it this time? It's your choice.

I chose. Near my wrist vein, I thought, just a little above, no cuts there.

A new place. That's a whole new area for a whole new collection. A fresh start.

I apply pressure. Then glide along my skin. Nothing. Then, everything.

Red is a nice colour on white. But soon it will turn into a scar again. Better make some more, make the color last.

A whole line of cuts appear on my wrist, with the same motion. It's beautiful, like a painting.

There. Don't you feel better?

...

Like all of the weight has gone? You don't have to bother about anything again. Be alone. You have more time to paint then.

My bed welcomes me. For the first time, the answer, isn't the answer.

There was a hole in my heart. A void.

I didn't know why.

A soft pain in my ankle. Marks on sheets, marks were the paint and sheets were a canvas.

How would this void be filled?

I didn't know.