A cold lonely night, strong internet connection, red wine, and an Instagram account is all it takes for Sabito to remember things he was made to forget.
Not that he regrets anything, though.
-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈
SabiGiyuu is a cute ship and I...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Giyuu stared at screen of his phone, taking a good look at it before it turned dim, then closed.
He opened it again only to find himself staring at it, until it dimmed, until it was black again.
And so the cycle continues for a good 12 minutes.
Here he was, laying on his bed, awake at the dead of the night. Curtains flowing, fluttering, flashing plain pink colors on the wall where the moonlight hit against his open window.
Giyuu was waiting for something, anything, yet nothing in particular.
Bored and unable to sleep, he was waiting. For someone, anyone, to talk to him, send him a DM of some sorts, send him a letter, a text, a gift, an email—even if it were a death threat. He didn't mind. He could take it.
It was 3:00 in the morning and Giyuu was craving attention.
Not that he would ever admit to that.
Giyuu took a peak outside, raven hair spilling over his shoulders, falling just beneath his elbows, swaying with the cool breeze that kissed his skin, promising shallow words of a sleep that will not be bestowed upon him again—atleast for that night.
It was the third time that evening he had woke up, sleep cut short everytime he would try to succumb to slumber. The cold, unforgiving moon stared down at him, serving as witness to his actions, to his cut-off sleep, judging his every move, noticing every hair strand that isn't in place, every wrinkle in his night time clothing, the outline of every scar he shouldn't have. The moon is silent but it knows everything, it sees everything, even the things you wouldn't want to see.
Giyuu turns his head upwards, taking in the view of the moon, sighing.
"It must be lonely up there, huh?" He muses, noticing that there was hardly even a single star in the sky to accompany it, twirling strands of his disheveled bedhead onto his index finger.
"Don't worry, it's lonely down here too." He mumbles to himself, dropping his hands down to his mattress, feeling the soft material against his skin before he started fumbling with the edges of his blanket, in a futile attempt to perhaps, bore him into sleep.
He sighs again.
There was a time
A time he could not remember, a time he should not remember, but a time. A time when he yearned for affection and recieved. A time when he craved attention and was fed. Until he was satisfied, until he was more than satisfied.
Until he was content.
In a time when hands bigger than his own would lift him up, take him into his arms, and hold him tight, warmth seeping from the other body to his own, drowning him into a guilt-free, careless state of comfort he wouldn't allow himself to be with anyone else, not even family.
