Afraid of the dark (DBH)

- Foaming mouth -

He banged the showers wall loudly, he knew it was loud. It echoed through the wet tiles and through the small puffs of steam around him, his skin already scorching red. Hadn't been a short time, he knew. But he couldn't put himself together.

His eyes felt blurry and senseless, pointless, his lips parted as he finally turned the water cold again, the temperature change hitting his body and forcing him to gasp for air. It was as a reflex, he had always had it now, like believing you'll drown unless you gasp for air, more and more in until your body realizes everything is fine.

It was an unhinged tension that refused to leave his body no matter how many times he repeated this. He was clearly beating himself up, but why exactly was from an outsider's perspective completely impossible to tell. Unless you were to follow the trail that his hands followed, neck, hips, navel... It didn't feel right even tho everything truly was just fine.

But it wasn't. It never was.

Once his skin returned to the regular hue and began to feel blue he stepped out, turning the water off completely and weakly moving himself out of the place, grabbing a towel he had left ready next to him, hanging into a place specific for that next to the glass shower doors, everything in the bathroom foggy as he picked up his dirty clothes to wipe the mirror briefly, staring at the dazed out and tired version of himself, hair messy and eyes red as usual.

He dried himself off properly before moving to the room and dressing up far too slow, putting on the office uniform. It felt like these days he didn't wear them enough, not like it was specific to the workplace either. Anything worked as a lieutenant these days.

He buttoned himself up and neatly placed a tie around his neck, a dark shade of wine red now against his gray button up, the sleeves rolled up as he looked at himself in the mirror again, that familiar and welcomed emptiness filling him up again. It never made him smile it just, made him feel a lot less tense. Blurry, then fine.

He moved downstairs and began to make coffee, Mirth having picked himself up and staring at him, several blinks one after the other in utter confusion, slight worry.

He felt it, his hands, his palms, the knuckles reddened and sore from banging the walls, he didn't mind.

A rabid dog.

"You okay there? I knocked but you locked the door up-" Mirth uttered, genuine worry in his tone before the man unblinking didn't even bother to look away from his pouring coffee.

"You wanted to see me naked? Bold of you to ask it that way Mirth." He joked, a small but dry chuckle following.

He didn't look fine. Completely out of himself and his knuckles still very much damaged. He hated himself, he hated himself, he hated it.

Mirths brows didn't take it as a joke, only evasive ways around something that was clearly bothering him.

"You're not okay, what's up...?" Gentle voice, as always. Only this time he wasn't going to get a nice reply from the other male, all he could do was get done with the coffee and beginning to drink it, his eyes still completely lost on the kitchens table right in front of him as he leaned on the fridge to stare at it.

"You don't need to have every information about it. Label it as schizophrenia, who cares. Just shut up, I don't... I'm not going to talk about it. End. Point. Dot. Shut the fuck up." Hostile didn't fit what the other one was doing, neither could you describe it as defensive.

It was hard to swallow when the coffee touched his lips, his body trying it's best to push it all down, excessive agression and what felt like fever on him, his eyes hazed to the temperature of the drink he held in his hand, trying to stay oblivious to how the droids large round and gentle eyes despite the words that came out like knives onto him. He knew better than to reprimand the other male for being the way he was, complaining about someone complaining never fixed it, if anything it only gave one of the parts more reasons to become hostile.