The Impossible Death

CHAPTER 16 - PLAYING WITH FIRE

Rain.

It should be raining. At least, that's how the movies always portray it.

The sad scene of loneliness on the roof, rain pouring around them, but they don't go inside. Instead they sit and revel in the cold. Enjoy what little feeling being cold brings them.

But Deceit didn't have that. It hadn't rained in the mindscape ever to his knowledge.

He did have a lighter though, and that could also bring something to the table.

The burning pain it brought left Deceit feeling more and more whole with each burn. Each touch of the burning flame bringing him closer to feeling.

He really was happy the others hadn't seen this part of him. It was fine if they assumed it was the same as the rest, as Logan seemed to suspect.

If they really knew the extent, then there's no way they'd let him leave the way he did.

Flicking his lighter closed, he sighed as he lied down. The cold metal of the roof digging into his bare back, chilling him to the bone.He didn't look down at his chest. He already knew what he had done.Looking up at the grey expanse of the mindscape, however, gave him a sense of familiarity that left a weak smile on Deceit's face.He and Virgil had discovered this place when they were just seven.Deceit could never remember what exactly they were doing, but ever since then it had been their hang out spot if they needed away from their rooms for a while.Virgil probably hadn't been up since they split. If he had then he somehow managed to avoid Deceit who came up here rather often.In the aftermath of their break, he only came up here to avoid knocking on Virgil's door and beg for forgiveness for whatever he had done.Back then, he didn't understand why Virgil was so mad at him.To this day, he was never really told. He never asked, too afraid for the answer.Though, as he finally looked down at his chest, he realized he always knew why.Red welted scars and charred skin stared up at him, accompanied by newly blooming bruises and lines and words in varying stages of healing.It scared him, that he could do that to himself, but at the same time he couldn't help but appreciate its beauty.To him, what he did to his body spoke more words about who he was as a person than he himself could say.But Virgil probably always knew exactly who he was.Deceit couldn't say when his anger melted into sadness, but felt it welling up inside him before he could even try to contain it.He couldn't cry though. Even though his lungs burned and his mind was clouded over, he couldn't cry.The tears were stuck inside him. As bottled up as his emotions.Flicking open his lighter again, he brought it back down to his skin.He was over emotional. That's why he lashed out so bad earlier.That's why he pushed away the people who wanted to help.He still thought he was right, though. About what he told them.He was fine.They didn't care before.They wanted him to be the bad guy.Yet, at the same time, he knew that his reasons were flawed.He knew he wasn't fine by normal standards.They only viewed him as bad because he never gave them the chance to view him as anything else.They didn't care if he was the bad guy or not.They just wanted him to be okay.And that was the scariest part.Deceit didn't want to be okay. He was afraid of being okay and what okay meant.He was too tired to change. Too tired of living to change.Closing the lighter once more, he looked to his discarded shirt and hoodie next to him. Giving a small, unamused laugh, he put them back on quickly.He didn't need a repeat of that morning.The whole thing that started this mess.Closing his eyes, he wished he could take another nap. But the fear of a third nightmare that day scared him more than he'd admit, keeping him wide awake.So tired, but can't sleep. He couldn't help but chuckle.The irony of his existence tortured him endlessly, so why not laugh at it?Surely it couldn't get any worse.