ARCADE [Sakusa x Atsumu]

chapter 1. A broken heart is all that's left

He tossed his favorite sports jacket to the ground with such force, the weak noise emitted from the noise it made as it hit the ground was sending off the waves of anger the boy was trying to let go of.

Yet, tossing a mere clump of fabric to the ground wasn't enough. He breathed heavily as he was trying to not do anything irrational, his eyes darting around rapidly like prey trying to escape the attack of a deadly predator.

The mirror hanging off the door to the bathroom was the poor victim to the boys fist, cracking the treated glass, barely holding to the fine sheet of wood that consisted of the frame and back of the said mirror. His dark brown eyes looked dull and agitated in his reflection, many cracks creating lines on the reflection of the boy.

He retracted his fist, looking at himself in the mirror properly. His face looked oddly calm, a tint of sadness could be detected if you payed close attention to his eyes and eyebrows. His blonde hair fell loosely over his eyes, some streaks teasing his eyelashes annoyingly.

His strong build trembled as he was starting to have difficulty controlling the strong gusts of wind inside him, slowly creating a storm that will only ravish him further and further. He tightened his fist again and hit the mirror again- punching where his heart should be.

The body lenght mirror shattered and fell to the ground, creating more shards and crumbs of glass. The only shard left was under Atsumu's fist, which he carefully grabbed so it wouldn't fall and break like the others. He could see the warm tears trickle down his cheeks through the shard, which was stained with a crimson liquid.

He stepped over the new pile of debris, holding the shard carefully as he placed it on his nightstand. His tears dripped down from his cheeks to silently puddle on the floor, creating a small dotted area of his tears. He took deep breaths and went to his closet, pulling out a broom and dust pan to rid the pile of broken glass near his appartement entrance.

It didn't take long for him to clear his mess from his entrance, making sure to wipe the floor with a wet paper towel so there was absolutely nothing left. He took down the mirror frame and put it beside the trash bag of glass near the door to throw it away tomorrow.

He returned to his room quietly, his chest feeling heavy and tight. He slowly removed his sweat smelling gym shirt, not daring to look at himself in another mirror. He knew that there were bruises and scars littering his body, making him uncomfortable with himself and honestly bathe in self hatred.

He slid on a loose hoodie, wanting to be comfortable. He quickly changed his bottom, wearing joggings to try to be as comfortable as possible. He cringed slightly as he finally sat down, his legs were burning and slightly throbbing in pain from overworking himself again.

His upper half felt even worse as it sustained the most damage in the past months. He let out a shaky breath as he unconsciously passed a hand over his rib cage, the area who has sustained the worst injury.

He shut his eyes for a small instant, blue eyes flashing in his mind so vividly he thought they were there. He opened his eyes rapidly, his heartrate picking up as his breathing became rapid.

He opened his nightstand drawer violently, trembling like a leaf as he rummaged loudly to find his medication. It was in vain; the pills were no where to be found. Instead, his hands fell upon a sharp object who has been neglected at the bottom of the drawer. Why was it there? Probably because Atsumu used it for cutting open the boxes in his room for when he moved in.

The exacto knife seemed too hypnotic to Atsumu's liking, but he couldn't control himself anymore. He clicked the knife up, the practically new blade shining dully from the ceiling light in Atsumu's room.

He lifted his shirt and pulled down the hem of his pants, exposing his hip. The blade was guiding his hand down to the unmarked flesh, just wanting to watch it shred and bleed.

It stung as he slid the blade, creating a thin but long cut starting at his upper thigh up to just under where the underwear band lays. Yet something in the sensation made him feel at peace, made him feel alive.

The blade slid a few more times before he stopped himself, letting out a loud sigh. "What if he was right..." He mumbled out to himself, looking up at the mirror on his closet door.

"I'm not worth the bother, not worth the wasted air or even attention..." He whispered, looking at the fresh cuts in his reflection as small droplets of blood slid on his smooth skin.

"Loving me is a losing game."