I do not own PoT
This story is dedicated to all the people out there who are bullied, abused, depressed etc. I think everyone has been through a tough time in their life, and they really need someone there, that just makes them feel so much better about themselves. Saying hello, or just waving and smiling could actually help save someone's life.
Playing with knives is a dangerous game.
One cut, one slice.
I roll the dice.
"What is it today? Live or die?"
My life is just one screwed up lie.
I don't matter.
My life is a waste.
And I'll do anything to get out of this place.
Life is a prison.
We're our own warden.
Escape or stay?
Who's to say?
I really don't know anymore...
I don't care anymore...
I need to escape.
The knife is my door.
[Sierra Arnold]
It wasn't on purpose, the first time. It slipped and slid across his arm. It wasn't his fault. He gasped in surprise and red drops of blood squeezed out. It stung for mere moments, then it became refreshing, like an escape.
The next day he'd already done it four more times, wincing for each slice, but smiling at the same time, as it slid smoothly across his skin. He wore a jacket to hide the already forming scabs and bandages, it was hot out. But he wanted to keep it a secret. His secret.
And it was then he decided, 30 days. 30 days to fall.
28 DAYS
Ryoma sighed as she rolled out of bed, it had only been 2 days, and already, there were 6 scars and 5 scabs. Who knew it was addicting.
School was the same old. Walking through the corridors, getting pushed around, and then making himself as small as possible in class. The students ignored him, and the teachers barely registered him being there. His head was on the table, buried in his arms like usual. He'd finished the work weeks ago, when he'd had nothing else to do. Because he was alone, while everyone else was out playing.
Dinner consisted of cup noodles, once again. His stomach grumbled in response.
Heaving up his lifeless self, he packed everything away.
The knife spun in his fingers. He smiled.
Playing with knives is a dangerous game.
25 DAYS
"Excuse me." He jumped, not daring to turn around. He heard a stifled yawn before the question was asked again.
"Excuse me."
He shuffled over to the side a little and mumbled the tiniest of apologies, nothing of which was heard. Glancing sideways, he waited for the boy to walk past, but instead, he stood there, glancing at him curiously.
"You're funny. See you around." He finally chuckled and walked away. Before he left, he turned around to face him and smile, "By the way. I'm Akutagawa, Akutagawa Jirou."
Ryoma didn't cut that day.
23 DAYS
Today, he saw him again. He was talking with a bunch of friends. They all seemed really rich, unlike his scholarship self. He caught his eye and gave his a big grin and a wave.
He couldn't help but blush. No one ever noticed him. Until now. Ducking his head down, he continued navigating his way through the corridor. Reaching his classroom, he hurried to his chair. Only to find it taken.
He quickly walked away, not wanting to ask her to move. Instead, he took a seat at the front of the room for once. Barely anyone sat in the front row. So at least he won't be caught in the confrontation of stealing someone's seat.
The change of pace slightly caught him off guard, and his arms started itching, as if begging him to pull up his sleeves and cut right there, for everyone to see.
He could just hear the chants of 'attention seeker' filling his head. He ran out of the room. No one would notice he was gone anyway.
Continuing to run down the corridor, he was a mere 3 steps away from his safe haven when someone stepped in front of him.
"Whoa, watch it there!" the person spoke, surprised. Ryoma looked up to see the same boy. Akutagawa Jirou. He could never forget the name.
"Hey, hey… what's wrong? Are you crying?" Jirou's eyes widened in shock as he started fretting, "Are you sick? Feeling like you're going to vomit? Any chest pains? Did someone hit you? Wait, no, did the teacher send you out of class? Or – "
His animated talk was suddenly cut off by the extra warmth pressed against him. The boy continued to sob, his arms wrapped around Jirou's body for comfort. The poor blonde was quite confused, but seeing the small trembling boy, he obviously let it go.
He felt a heavier weight rest on him as the smaller boy drifted off into a light slumber. Lifting him up, and slowly walking to the infirmary – where the nurse was never there – he placed him onto the bed and followed.
Him fell asleep with that mysterious boy.
22 AND A QUARTER DAYS
To wake up in the infirmary is one thing. But to wake up face to face with the only person in the whole school who notices you, is another.
Yelping slightly, he jumped off the bed. During this motion, his pocket knife slid out from under his sleeve and fell out onto the floor with a loud clatter, causing the other boy to wake up.
"Hmmm?" Jirou groaned, groggily.
"S-sorry." Ryoma whispered, his voice hoarse, he quickly picked up the knife before Jirou realised and slid it back into his sleeve.
"What was that?" Ryoma found himself under the intense stare of the blonde's curious eyes.
"Never mind." He gave up after a while and jumped up from the bed, "Here, I'll take you home."
Ryoma stood there, stunned. He wanted to open his mouth and say no or shake his head or something. But he couldn't. There was a first time for everything.
The car ride was quiet. Jirou had a fancy sports car. No surprise.
"Is this… your place?" Jirou blinked as he looked up to the old, grimy apartment block. The area surrounding it was all rubble, rubbish and dust. No one really bothered to clean it up after all.
Ryoma gave a small, embarrassed nod in response as he quickly exited the car and entered the block.
19 DAYS
So far, Jirou had driven Ryoma home every day since the first time, and he'd finally gotten his name. Echizen Ryoma.
Echizen Ryoma was now in his home, concentrating. 52 scars. And counting. He hadn't even realized he'd done it so often.
Playing with knives is dangerous.
6 DAYS
He and Ryoma had grown closer in the slightest. But for Ryoma, it was much more than Jirou could ever imagine.
But today had been the day the blonde found out. And Ryoma had been afraid.
Jirou knocked on the door impatiently. He'd forgotten to give Ryoma back his notes, even though he said he didn't need them.
The door was flung open as it revealed Ryoma, looking dishevelled as though he'd just woken up.
"Oi, Ryoma, I forgot to give you your no – " Jirou was cut off.
"Get out…." he said.
"What?" Jirou stepped through the door, mishearing him.
"Get out! Get out, get out, get out!" Ryoma started freaking out, screeching. It was the first time he'd raised his voice, the first time he'd spoken so much.
He attempted to shove Jirou out of the door, even kicked his shins. But the bigger boy, he didn't even budge. He looked up, still screaming lividly, his face was contorted in pure anger, mad and red.
But his features suddenly softened as he fell to the ground, his face buried in his face as he started sobbing, quietly whispering "Get out, get out." Over and over like a mantra. His sleeves slid up his arms, the knife falling out with a loud thud.
There was no going back now. He couldn't hide what Jirou had seen. Scars, scars everywhere.
Jirou wasn't surprised, well, if he was, he didn't show it. He walked steadily toward Ryoma and pulled him into a comforting bear hug.
"Shhh, it's okay." He hushed, calming Ryoma's nerves. The cat-eyed boy softened at his touch. He couldn't help it. His arms gave him a sense of security.
1 DAY
Today, he would fall… right?
Just a month ago, Ryoma was so sure, he wanted this, he really did. But looking back, was it really the right choice?
Jirou had shown him what it meant to be seen, to have someone to talk to, to have someone to hang out with instead of doing extra school work. But most of all, he'd shown him what it meant to be loved, even if it was one-sided. Ryoma couldn't deny the flutter in his heart. All in the space of 3 days.
He didn't know anymore.
In the end, he decided to get up and go to school anyway. He walked into the bathroom to brush his teeth as usual, and his hand automatically reached out to pick up the knife. He flinched and drew his hand away.
"No…" he mumbled to himself. He'd made a promise to Jirou, and he was going to keep it.
At school, Ryoma waved shyly towards his new friends… unfortunately, instead of waving back, they glared and walked up to him.
"You. Because of you. Everyone thinks we're attention seekers to help out the 'loner' kid." One of them snarled.
Ryoma felt the need to run away and curl into a ball. All those feelings suddenly came rushing back at him. The days of bullying, the one spent alone. It had seemed so long ago, but, this was reality. Of course no one actually cared for him.
Blinking back tears, he ran. He ran home and trashed the place. The small house was now a mess, clothes strewn everywhere, food scattered in crumbs on the floor.
He thought he could push past it. He wanted to deny it. But in the end, he was right in the first place.
30 days to fall. And the 30 days… they were now gone.
….
"Hey, where's Ryoma?" Jirou looked around and saw no sign of the small kid.
"I don't know. Who cares? He ran off somewhere anyway. Can't even take a joke." His friends laughed and sapped each-others backs. Seemingly imitating an awkward facial expression.
But Jirou knew that face from anywhere. The awkward boy he learned to love – Ryoma – that was his face when all the bottled up pain became too much to bear.
In an instant. He knew something was wrong.
Ryoma…
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LATER
Ryoma woke up. The house was dark, but for once, it didn't feel empty. He could smell the food cooking from his bedroom, and in an instant he knew it was Jirou.
Getting up, he padded into the dining area and hugged Jirou from behind.
"Thank you…" he mumbled, as the blonde boy turned around.
"It's nothing… if I still have you around." He smiled and leaned toward the emerald haired boy.
Smiling, Ryoma too, leaned and their lips met.
"You're not alone, you're beautiful, and you, you're my sweet hello."
Hi, so this is the end of 'Hello'… I'm sorry, it's a bit rushed, but I can't bring myself to write about how… well someone hurts that bad enough to try committing suicide. I hope you like it… fave and review (: