Link's POV
I woke up again in my own bed. My dick slightly aroused for some reason, I felt weirdly pleased. That is until I saw the figure collapsed in my room staring into the bloody, messy bathroom.
Rhett was staring, tears streaming down onto his pants, creating a wet spot in his crotch area.
"I-I can explain, Rhett. Please." His face turned, and as if in slow motion he jumped up, running, running towards me and embracing me into his arms. Rocking us back and forth, I could feel the periodic hiccups as Rhett continued to silently cry, embracing me. Embracing my ugliness, my mistakes, my stupidity, my scars, embracing me.
It seemed like hours pasted. Rocking me gently, Rhett finally spoke. "I'm so sorry Link. I've been such a bad friend, I neglected you. I am so sorry."
It happened so quickly. I leaned my face into his, softly kissing his lips, tasting the salty teardrops that lingered, kissing him felt so good, it felt so right. His mouth opened without hesitation, and we plunged into a happy abyss.
For the few minutes we spent in each other's arms, I felt as if everything could be alright, I could be happy again.
He broke off the kiss. Looking pale and sick, he jolted for the bathroom. Retching whatever he had in him, the happy abyss vanished.
Looking back at me with sad eyes, he ran out of my house, ran through the dozens of beer cans, ran through the splatters of blood right out of the house, disappearing into the midday sun.
I had messed up. Badly. It was my turn to cry. Automatically, I got out of bed and strolled to my bathroom. My beautiful creation of a room. Beautiful brownish-red marks all over the cabinets, the floor, the mirror. The collection of knives placed on the sink. Meticulously cleaned, sharpened and polished, waiting for its owner to pick them up again.
Today, I chose a large knife. Appropriately sized for the pain I caused Rhett. Scouring my legs, I found a patch of bare skin, teasing myself as I placed the tip of the knife onto my leg, drawing a cynical smiley face before getting onto the real show. The pain felt so addicting, so inviting, so good. I moaned in pleasure, slicing my skin. Collecting the red blood, I drew an approximation of Rhett onto the mirror, right next to the ugly reflection that filled my vision.
Angry tears filled my vision, in a blur, the man in the reflection lunged toward the mirror, trying to rip himself apart.
