all nights and tears

prologue

; prologue
    — "You're okay, I'm here."

"For fucking's sake, Seian Calyx! When will you stop ruining your own life?!"

This has been going on for almost an hour but the said person didn't do anything but scroll through his phone as if he couldn't hear anything about his sister screaming her lungs off. He was crossing his legs, leaning towards his room's small couch.

It was almost as if her words entered his left ear and went out immediately to the right. He didn't care, obviously.

The other sighed, eventually stopped her series of determination of knocking some sense into her brother's head. She walked, sat beside him. She bit her lip when she saw a couple of purple marks over her brother's neck and down to his chest. The way he wore a loose white shirt made it evident wherein he didn't give a fuck about it. However, Carlyle cares.

"Seian," she softly called.

This somehow made him stop his hand and made him follow a sigh. "I don't see any reasons for you to do this, Carlyle. Can't you just shut up and leave?" he said, bluntly.

A faint change of face wandered on his sister's face, seemingly hurt from what the other said. Carlyle gulped, trying to suppress a sob. "I-I... I'm here for you, okay? Whenever you need," she said, barely managing not to choke out and cry.

He almost rolled his eyes, didn't even spare her a single glance even after she went out of the room. His eyebrows furrowed, frustration building up inside him; he groaned.

"Sleep might do the trick," he whispered. He mentally agreed, right, sleep is the best cure.

He threw his phone to the couch and threw himself to the bed. However, things may not really be nice to him as always. He couldn't sleep. Again. When will he even get used to these sort of things? He sighed and flipped himself over, staring blankly at the ceiling.

He tried mentally counting, slowly. One, two, three, four, five... and so on. 

He yawned when he was already at a hundred and fifty, the technique somehow worked, though it took time. He continued, still trying to make himself fall asleep.

When he reached two hundred and eleven, his mind succumbed to the darkness.

—