philophobia | soukoku

iris

hi darlings! apologies that this took so long to post, i've been having a lot of schoolwork and was focused on another writing on a different account last week, but i should be getting back on schedule with this one this week! :)

(tw: self-harm, emetophobia, blood)

dazai gagged as another blue flower petal slid off his tongue and into the bathroom sink. he let out another cough, shivers going through his body. the boy had been stripped down to his boxers and socks (and the bandages that covered his body) as it was two in the morning.

the fifteen year old wiped his mouth with the back of his bandaged hand as he tried to get his breathing back to normal. he let out a few more quiet coughs, spitting any remnants of blood into the sink. 

he turned on the faucet, taking water into his cupped hands, and promptly splashing his face with the water. he kept his hands over his face for a few seconds, eyes shut. after a moment, dazai dropped his hands, lifting his head up to look at his reflection in the mirror.

he didn't like what he saw.

then again, he never did in the first place.

"look at yourself, osamu." he whispered to himself, dragging his hands over his face. "you're such a mess." 

you've always been.

"oh." dazai lowered his dull gaze. "it's that kind of night." 

you're so weak.

"go away." dazai whispered to the voice in his head pleadingly. 

do it. you know you want to. you deserve it.

the boy covered his ears. "stop it." he begged, emotionless. 

do it.

dazai's eyes had been clouded with a dead look. "i don't want to." he replied to the taunting voices.

liar. you want to, you know you do. just do it.

dazai looked up at the mirror. he paused, hesitant. "...fine." he gave in, reaching for the drawer underneath the sink. "just to make you leave me alone." he opened the drawer, rummaging through for a little bit until he saw a small razor blade.

he put the blade on the counter, taking off the bandages that covered his right arm and revealing scars, both old and new, that went all the way down his arm. the bandages dropped to the floor. 

the fifteen year old now had his eyes on the blade. 

do it.

dazai picked up the blade, hovering it over his bare wrist. not a moment passed before he glided the blade along his wrist, cutting through the skin. it wasn't long before blood began to slowly trickle down his arm. 

more.

dazai repeated the motion several more times, slitting his wrist over and over. a burning sting jolted through his arm, but dazai ignored it. like he always did. 

he sliced his arm one more time before setting down the blade, looking at the bloody picture he created.

good.

dazai ignored the stinging pain as he took his wrist underneath the faucet, washing off the leaking blood. 

the boy turned off the faucet, opening the drawer he found the blade in, and now pulling out new bandages from it. he extended his newly sliced arm, and wrapped the bandages along it. once he made it to the end of his arm, he clasped the bandages together.