ReitaxRuki - Behind Closed Eyes [3/?]
Title: Behind Closed Eyes - [3/?]
Author: ccgensou
Genre: Angst
Rating: R
Warning: Eating Disorders, Self-Injury, Gore, Language, Violence.
Band: The GazettE
Pairing: Reita/Ruki
Summary: We're all blind.
Comments: I'm not sure. Please read the author's note at the end. Thanks. Okay. *goes to hide*
Previous:
Prologue.
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
~
Silence, you say, will make you strong
Silence, you say, will prove them wrong
But when you’re down and so alone
When you’re screaming, wanting to belong
Just open the door for me
Open your heart for me
Silence, you think, will make you strong
But silence, I say, will prove you wrong
Chapter 3 .
Day one.
He liked the sound of that. Day one.
There had been so many day ones in the past, but this time it would be different. He didn’t know why, or how, but something would be different. Ruki stared into the mirror. It just had to be. Resulting to picking through his closet, Ruki found a loose-fitted, long-sleeved sweatshirt. It did, however, take a little bit of digging to find a pair of pants that he could wear on his morning jog, but at last his fingers gripped around soft, dark-blue sweatpants. That’d do. With a sigh, Ruki pulled the sweatshirt over his head and stepped into the sweatpants, all with an optimistic heart pounding in his chest.
Day one.
-
Day two.
He was wishing the days would go by faster. Day two.
There had been so many messed up day twos in the past, so would this be different? Staggering in his steps, he stubbornly held back the tears as he turned left instead of going right and straight home after his usual laps on the track. More running. More calories burned. Today would be so fucking different. Today, he would not fail. He’d be thin, thinner, thin enough to satisfy even the deepest of hunger. Longer steps. Faster. Soon he was racing down the track, desperate, for something, for reassurance, whimpers escaping his lips as agony tore at his mind and heart. He was exhausted to the point where he was close to collapsing, but he kept on going, kept on running. He would be thin. He would be.
Day two.
-
Day three.
Oh, he liked that number; now all he had to do was keep on going. Day three.
There had been so many day threes when he’d caved into cravings, found himself weak enough to think that, oh, what harm could it do, just one extra bite today, just that one. And two. And three and four and five and suddenly day three wouldn’t sound so flashy anymore. Ruki collapsed into the kitchen chair. He would have to take a shower, but before he could take a shower he needed a drink, but before he could get a drink, he needed to just… sit. Catch his breath. Calm his heart and stop the awful spinning blackness that was revolving around him whenever he moved one single, little inch anywhere. He’d just rest for a while. He’d be fine. Because after all, there wasn’t any time to be lazy.
Day three.
-
It’s getting strange.
If I knew which way is up and which way is down, I would not be sitting here, in Uruha’s kitchen watching him prepare food, mind reeling and twisting, turning. My fingers move over the table, creating a silent melody, but I can’t understand what it is I am playing. Does that make sense? Does anything make sense? In the corner of my eye I can glimpse Uruha pausing, watching me, but I don’t bother looking up. He knows me. More than well does he know me, and I don’t need to tell him the way I am feeling. But the focus of my confusion isn’t as simple, isn’t as clear, and that is why there are few lines said in-between the silence. When I try to reason, try to think of ways to approach the issue at hand, there’s nothing but black, massive nothing. Nothing. And that’s what’s getting me.
This - this part of not knowing, this part of not seeing, this part of you wanting to just crush everything around you and scream, and scream, and scream for an explanation. Why and how and when and where. Is it up, is it down, is it left or is it right, is it me, is it him, is it us or is it nothing at all? Oh, Ruki. With a frustrated groan, I hide my face in my arms, the silent melody coming to an abrupt halt as I rest against the tabletop, against the imaginary piano. In my head I pretend that I can hear the complaining scream of too many sounds forced out all at once. In my head I pretend I’m just out of luck.
"Reita." Uruha’s voice cuts through the silence; a surprisingly gentle blade. I say nothing. My only acknowledgement is burying my head further down into my arms’ waiting darkness, waiting rest and welcoming escape. "Reita", he says again, not giving up on me. "What are you thinking about?" At least he didn’t ask me how I feel, at least he didn’t ask me what is bothering me, at least he isn’t… isn’t… trying to open doors I’d rather keep shut, rather never let go of so I can hold this strangled sense of calm, just for a little while longer.
"What do you think", becomes my only retort; angry words born from mocking frustration. And even though there is a splinter of regret nestling within as I realise how harsh my tone is, it’s alright, I tell myself it’s alright because I have a reason. I do. He just doesn’t know it yet, Uruha just doesn’t know how much everything is draining to me, nowadays. The silence stretches vast between us, creating a greater distance. He’s like a brother to me, but even brothers don’t always think the same. When the only sound has been reduced to the hissing of agitated, boiling water, I raise my head with a frustrated sigh, leaning back as my eyes finally dart up to look at him. He’s calm. Collected, thoughtful as he stares at me so intently that it makes me shift uncomfortably. Honestly, Uruha, I want to tell him. From the way you’re staring you could think I’ve grown a second head.
"What do you want to do about it?" he asks, catches me off guard with a question even I cannot answer. He then adds mercilessly, "And more importantly, what are you going to do about it." Is it unfair of me to hate him for confronting me so? Is it unfair of me to hate him for being able to talk about it so calmly, so carelessly like it’s just leaves falling from a tree, and not our vocalist falling - falling where, exactly? Where is he going to, and can I catch him? I snap out of my stray thoughts when Uruha turns back to the stove, tending to the food.
"Something", I mutter, more to myself than anyone, but the tilt of his head tells me he heard it, too. I scratch absently at the nape of my neck, a frown on my face as I stare out through the window, at the cloudy sky of today. "I guess I just… wish I knew how to help him. So things can go back to normal, you know?"
There is a slight pause, and for a moment it seems that he is hesitating, seems that in the air hovers a question he‘s not sure whether he should ask or not. But then, he gives in, asking; "And… what is normal, to you?" And my frustration must have been clear to read on my face, because with one glance over his shoulder, he continues on, "You don’t understand, Reita. This is normal. You know it, I know it, the whole band knows it. It’s not the first time he’s gotten this withdrawn, because that’s Ruki for you. He’ll come around, you know. Like always. It’s just… one of his phases."
"It’s not", I defend.
"It is."
"This is different!"
His eyes lock with mine, a shadow of a frown on his beautifully shaped face. And I can tell just from the look on his face exactly what he thinks, I can tell from the way he’s watching me that he’s got more to say. But you know what? I don’t want to hear it, I don’t want to listen to him telling me everything will be okay because things always become okay, and I don’t want to have his words creating guilt in me and - and why on earth am I so… blind? "Reita", he says, finally breaking the silence. I only huff and cross my arms over my chest, looking away with a stubborn scowl. He doesn’t give up. Though I wish he would say no more, he speaks up. "Listen, he’ll come around, okay? Just give him space, I’m sure it’s nothing -"
"What do you mean nothing, how can you - ?"
"- and that he’ll be fine -"
"Fine? Fine? He won’t -"
"- if you just give it some time, seriously, he’ll be okay -"
"He’s - not - OKAY!"
Slam.
Stop. Hold on. He stares, I stand rigid. Wait, what? Breaking through the silence is the sound of my chair falling, clattering to the floor behind me, bringing me back to reality. It is with my palms stinging, burning, making me realise that I’ve slammed them down onto the tabletop, that the extent of my reaction is brought to light. With shaky breaths of air rushing into my lungs, I step back, raising my hands from the table, cautiously, carefully as if it’d leap at me if done too carelessly. And then… then I look up, wide-eyed, confused as I come to stare into Uruha’s calculating gaze. It’s not - that is - I‘m… just not ready to face it. And as Uruha and I stare at each other, I realise with a sinking heart that none of us are, even if we want to. That is what gets to me. That is why I sink to the floor, suddenly exhausted, suddenly, well, I don’t know, suddenly so empty.
"Reita", Uruha says, coming to kneel down by my side. "I know. I know he‘s not okay", he admits, and though I feel it should make me angry that he admits this only now, I can only stare down at my hands, resting in my lap, as he adds the part that I don’t want to hear. "But, don’t you realise that we can’t help him if he doesn’t let us?"
-
What was another day?
He didn’t know what to think of it. Frowning, drying his hair with a towel, Ruki stared into the mirror; stared at himself. Change? He looked the same, there wasn’t any change, no progress what-so-fucking-ever. Still…too much. Pausing, lowering the towel, he took a step closer. Well, he liked his hipbones. Tap-it-y-tap-tap; his fingertips drummed against the jutting bone. But right next to sharp bones was offending fat. Face, shoulder, chest, stomach, hip, legs and feet. His head tilted to the side, Ruki stared, stubbornly not looking away. Hatred, that was it, he felt hatred as his hands moves like an uneven spectacle of feather touches mixed with nails digging deeply into the flesh, marking it red. Stretch, pull, pinch. Watch, see, hate.
His heartbeats were resounding in his head, almost as clear as if the building pressure that was making itself known in his chest was a stethoscope, a way to listen to his life. Blinking slowly, Ruki took a deep breath as he found himself reveling in the overwhelming sensation, that feeling of being oversensitive, perfectly in harmony with his body, his needs, a sort of toxic high. Empty, hollow but oh, so empty. Every particle of his skin felt electrified, a gentle, prickling, sensation overload. He felt clear, clean, so addicted, yet oh.
So numb.
-
"Ruki?"
It was a buzzing morning. A buzzing city. So full of life, weren’t they. From way up high you could almost think the people were like ants scurrying along the streets. Small dots with so much strength. He liked that image. To be honest, sometimes he wanted to give up everything to join them. Know what it would be like, to be like them, live a normal life without a camera lens glued to your faces, a microphone putting all your words into evidence that, indeed, he had said whatever nonsense he managed to get out of his mouth this or that time.
"Ruki?"
Yet at the same time Ruki very much believed that living a normal life, even with all its benefits, would be his downfall. This was why he was here, now, wasn’t it. He’d chosen this for a reason. Because people were watching him, and if people were watching him, he could pretend that he was fine, and if people thought, if so only for a moment, that he was fine, then perhaps… he could, too. And pretending can be enough. Whatever people told him, Ruki knew, pretending could be enough when nothing else was left to try.
"Ruki. Stop daydreaming!"
Blinking owlishly, Ruki snapped out of his thought, looking away from the window to his side, being awarded with the sight of a frustrated yet somehow slightly amused bassist staring right at him. Ah. This was… this was Reita, yes, Reita, perfect Reita, oh, what was he doing there in front of him and was there an escape somewhere because Ruki was far from perfect enough for him yet? Squeezing his eyes tightly shut for a split second, he managed to get his senses back and, with a deep inhale came to stand straight, staring evenly, questioningly, into a pair of observing eyes. "Hi, Rei", he got out, hoping for his dear life that there were no outward signs of how peculiarly unclear everything was around him.
"Hi", was the answer - slightly hesitant, slightly wary, slightly like it shouldn’t be said at all. Oh, the confusion. With a soft tone, "You okay?" was the question Reita asked. So generic, it was all so formal. So this was where they had ended up. Well, at least he knew those patterns by heart, but the thing that puzzled him was how Reita raised a hand, as if to touch him - but stopping in the midst. Coming to stand with his arms crossed instead, as if shying away.
"Uh… Uh-huh!" I’m fine, fine, perfectly fine and I don’t care that you can’t even bear to touch me anymore, not really, it’s not like it makes me want to scream or anything. No. Ruki sucked in a deep breath and forced a smile on his lips. Cursed be his childish chirp of a reply. Up-beat little lies wrapped up in shiny façades. That was him. Wasn’t it? He didn’t know anymore, he really didn’t know anything anymore. His insecurity started threatening to become too great to successfully overshadow by his theatre of confidence. C‘mon, Ruki, do something. "H-how are you?"
"I’m okay."
"Oh." Pause. "That’s… that’s good."
"Yeah."
He tried. He really did try, but coherent ideas of conversation abandoned him, all to be lost in the buzzing sea of his mind. He couldn’t quite name it, couldn’t quite say what it was, it just… was. Like the fact that he was alive, he was putting distance between himself, and everything around him. Ruki wanted to initiate a conversation just like the old days, Ruki wanted to be happy, cheerful, talk and laugh with Reita, but he just couldn’t. It took too much energy - energy that he so desperately needed to get through the day, and the next day, and the day after that, until it would all be alright. Would he understand? Would he forgive him? With a glance at Reita’s contemplative face, Ruki shifted his weight nervously from foot to foot as he asked, "So… did you want something, or what?"
There was a quiet moment before the answer came, but when it did it was a bittersweet gift from tantalizing lips. "Um, yes", he said. "Uruha wondered if you want to tag along to a few nightclubs later." Oh. More silence followed, awkward moments with questions in its wake. Ruki frowned to himself. Wait… Was he - that is, should he answer now? Would Reita come along? And… and how much could he drink, because - oh, the calories. Reaching out a hand to quickly grip at the windowsill, he opened his mouth to answer, but choked. A night out. He’d done so well, he’d been a good boy and his world was swaying before him and that translated to something good, because it was equal to - what exactly? It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered, except.
"Are you…" he tried. Swallowing nervously, he cursed his inability to speak properly as he made himself force the words out; "Are you coming, too?"
"No", was the first answer, and in Ruki’s mind the invitation closed its doors before him, because without Reita, it was useless going. Without Reita, the effort just wasn’t worth it. Letting out a heavy sigh, Ruki made to turn to face the window again, but that was when the shy man suddenly spoke up again. "Wait, I’ll… go if you go." Reita paused, and Ruki looked up, observed quietly - curiously, as a blush coloured the bassist’s cheeks. "I meant, no - wait… I mean, do you… I’ll tag along if you want me to?"
It seemed to Ruki that neither of them had expected those words to leave Reita’s lips. It seemed to Ruki that Reita was just as surprised as he was, to present himself as needing of his company as Ruki secretly was demanding his. Don’t say no. He hesitated, thought and calculated, tried to estimate the danger. Don’t. Don’t do what? Say yes, say no, say something don’t just stand there. "Yes." Fuck. "Okay." No.
No, wait, I didn’t mean it, I don’t think I -
Oh, but see the bright smile he was rewarded with.
-
He couldn’t do beautiful things, there was always something wrong with it, something - something cold about it. He’d try and try and, oh, he’d try but to no avail. Was this it? Was this all he could do? Was this - this fucking mess all he could conjure? Growl turning into a whimper, Ruki’s fist closed around offending paper with its ugly, ugly, stupid… ugly lines. Looking up through a blurry vision, he caught his reflection in the full body mirror. Ugly. Ugly lines. Just, through and through, so damn… damn… Ruki inhaled sharply and turned back to the papers spread out on the floor before him, his brows furrowed in concentration. C’mon. You can do it. You can.
Silence.
Ruki swallowed. You… can’t. You can’t do it. Papers, everywhere, papers filled with doodles, papers filled with writings, papers filled with bitter fucking nothings, papers… papers… blank pages, empty voids that he couldn’t fill. He was supposed to be getting ready. He was supposed to be done with this long time ago, many long hours ago, he was supposed to be making himself decent enough to go out with his friends. But he couldn’t even… make it to the shower. The sun was setting outside half-closed curtains, and he found himself just sitting there, staring up from where he was seated at the floor of his bedroom. Would they even care if he didn’t come? Would they even bother trying to get him along? Reaching a hand up to rub his tired eyes, Ruki sighed. He didn’t know what he wanted. He wanted to be alone, yet he wanted them to care.
Then there followed nothingness. Nonsense minutes. Ruki curled up on the floor, head rested on his arm, the other arm flung over his stomach. Fuck, he was hungry. So fucking hungry it hurt. Thousands of strings tied to various parts of his body, various parts of his mind, all joined together at the devil pit of his stomach. Sucking his lower lip between his teeth, chewing thoughtfully, he moved his head slightly to see the time. 8:45PM. Ah, time.
And later. 9:03PM. Ruki cast a glance at the time for the hundredth time. Couldn’t it just move so it could be a new day so he could lose more weight? He needed to. And this way, this way if he stayed home he could stay clear of the devilish alcohol because damn it, that would take him back to square one. Alcohol, Ruki decided, was worse than a binge. He didn’t want to think of what would happen if he’d not be sober. Eyes located the mirror in the corner, and he couldn‘t help but to think of everything he could lose. But he just, you know… wanted to forget. Run away, not care, just lose himself under the influence. A hand reached up to his face, pinching and pulling slightly at his cheeks. Ah, but, now that he thought about it.
How much calories were there in painkillers?
To be continued. ♡
-
Author's note: My heart is racing, writing this. But I think it would be good if I explained why I sometimes take long to update. It's simple, but I'm really nervous, and wouldn't normally say this, but I've realised I might have to. However I can impossibly say it straight out, but let's just say this fictional Ruki and I have some things in common, right, so sometimes it's really difficult for me to focus, and therefore I have times when I can't write even if I would have wanted to. This is another reason this fanfiction might not be very well written. Please do not judge me too harshly. Please don't expect this to be anything good.
Please understand?
That's all.
I love you all.
Peace out.
-
Author: ccgensou
Genre: Angst
Rating: R
Warning: Eating Disorders, Self-Injury, Gore, Language, Violence.
Band: The GazettE
Pairing: Reita/Ruki
Summary: We're all blind.
Comments: I'm not sure. Please read the author's note at the end. Thanks. Okay. *goes to hide*
Previous:
Prologue.
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
~
Silence, you say, will make you strong
Silence, you say, will prove them wrong
But when you’re down and so alone
When you’re screaming, wanting to belong
Just open the door for me
Open your heart for me
Silence, you think, will make you strong
But silence, I say, will prove you wrong
Chapter 3 .
Day one.
He liked the sound of that. Day one.
There had been so many day ones in the past, but this time it would be different. He didn’t know why, or how, but something would be different. Ruki stared into the mirror. It just had to be. Resulting to picking through his closet, Ruki found a loose-fitted, long-sleeved sweatshirt. It did, however, take a little bit of digging to find a pair of pants that he could wear on his morning jog, but at last his fingers gripped around soft, dark-blue sweatpants. That’d do. With a sigh, Ruki pulled the sweatshirt over his head and stepped into the sweatpants, all with an optimistic heart pounding in his chest.
Day one.
-
Day two.
He was wishing the days would go by faster. Day two.
There had been so many messed up day twos in the past, so would this be different? Staggering in his steps, he stubbornly held back the tears as he turned left instead of going right and straight home after his usual laps on the track. More running. More calories burned. Today would be so fucking different. Today, he would not fail. He’d be thin, thinner, thin enough to satisfy even the deepest of hunger. Longer steps. Faster. Soon he was racing down the track, desperate, for something, for reassurance, whimpers escaping his lips as agony tore at his mind and heart. He was exhausted to the point where he was close to collapsing, but he kept on going, kept on running. He would be thin. He would be.
Day two.
-
Day three.
Oh, he liked that number; now all he had to do was keep on going. Day three.
There had been so many day threes when he’d caved into cravings, found himself weak enough to think that, oh, what harm could it do, just one extra bite today, just that one. And two. And three and four and five and suddenly day three wouldn’t sound so flashy anymore. Ruki collapsed into the kitchen chair. He would have to take a shower, but before he could take a shower he needed a drink, but before he could get a drink, he needed to just… sit. Catch his breath. Calm his heart and stop the awful spinning blackness that was revolving around him whenever he moved one single, little inch anywhere. He’d just rest for a while. He’d be fine. Because after all, there wasn’t any time to be lazy.
Day three.
-
It’s getting strange.
If I knew which way is up and which way is down, I would not be sitting here, in Uruha’s kitchen watching him prepare food, mind reeling and twisting, turning. My fingers move over the table, creating a silent melody, but I can’t understand what it is I am playing. Does that make sense? Does anything make sense? In the corner of my eye I can glimpse Uruha pausing, watching me, but I don’t bother looking up. He knows me. More than well does he know me, and I don’t need to tell him the way I am feeling. But the focus of my confusion isn’t as simple, isn’t as clear, and that is why there are few lines said in-between the silence. When I try to reason, try to think of ways to approach the issue at hand, there’s nothing but black, massive nothing. Nothing. And that’s what’s getting me.
This - this part of not knowing, this part of not seeing, this part of you wanting to just crush everything around you and scream, and scream, and scream for an explanation. Why and how and when and where. Is it up, is it down, is it left or is it right, is it me, is it him, is it us or is it nothing at all? Oh, Ruki. With a frustrated groan, I hide my face in my arms, the silent melody coming to an abrupt halt as I rest against the tabletop, against the imaginary piano. In my head I pretend that I can hear the complaining scream of too many sounds forced out all at once. In my head I pretend I’m just out of luck.
"Reita." Uruha’s voice cuts through the silence; a surprisingly gentle blade. I say nothing. My only acknowledgement is burying my head further down into my arms’ waiting darkness, waiting rest and welcoming escape. "Reita", he says again, not giving up on me. "What are you thinking about?" At least he didn’t ask me how I feel, at least he didn’t ask me what is bothering me, at least he isn’t… isn’t… trying to open doors I’d rather keep shut, rather never let go of so I can hold this strangled sense of calm, just for a little while longer.
"What do you think", becomes my only retort; angry words born from mocking frustration. And even though there is a splinter of regret nestling within as I realise how harsh my tone is, it’s alright, I tell myself it’s alright because I have a reason. I do. He just doesn’t know it yet, Uruha just doesn’t know how much everything is draining to me, nowadays. The silence stretches vast between us, creating a greater distance. He’s like a brother to me, but even brothers don’t always think the same. When the only sound has been reduced to the hissing of agitated, boiling water, I raise my head with a frustrated sigh, leaning back as my eyes finally dart up to look at him. He’s calm. Collected, thoughtful as he stares at me so intently that it makes me shift uncomfortably. Honestly, Uruha, I want to tell him. From the way you’re staring you could think I’ve grown a second head.
"What do you want to do about it?" he asks, catches me off guard with a question even I cannot answer. He then adds mercilessly, "And more importantly, what are you going to do about it." Is it unfair of me to hate him for confronting me so? Is it unfair of me to hate him for being able to talk about it so calmly, so carelessly like it’s just leaves falling from a tree, and not our vocalist falling - falling where, exactly? Where is he going to, and can I catch him? I snap out of my stray thoughts when Uruha turns back to the stove, tending to the food.
"Something", I mutter, more to myself than anyone, but the tilt of his head tells me he heard it, too. I scratch absently at the nape of my neck, a frown on my face as I stare out through the window, at the cloudy sky of today. "I guess I just… wish I knew how to help him. So things can go back to normal, you know?"
There is a slight pause, and for a moment it seems that he is hesitating, seems that in the air hovers a question he‘s not sure whether he should ask or not. But then, he gives in, asking; "And… what is normal, to you?" And my frustration must have been clear to read on my face, because with one glance over his shoulder, he continues on, "You don’t understand, Reita. This is normal. You know it, I know it, the whole band knows it. It’s not the first time he’s gotten this withdrawn, because that’s Ruki for you. He’ll come around, you know. Like always. It’s just… one of his phases."
"It’s not", I defend.
"It is."
"This is different!"
His eyes lock with mine, a shadow of a frown on his beautifully shaped face. And I can tell just from the look on his face exactly what he thinks, I can tell from the way he’s watching me that he’s got more to say. But you know what? I don’t want to hear it, I don’t want to listen to him telling me everything will be okay because things always become okay, and I don’t want to have his words creating guilt in me and - and why on earth am I so… blind? "Reita", he says, finally breaking the silence. I only huff and cross my arms over my chest, looking away with a stubborn scowl. He doesn’t give up. Though I wish he would say no more, he speaks up. "Listen, he’ll come around, okay? Just give him space, I’m sure it’s nothing -"
"What do you mean nothing, how can you - ?"
"- and that he’ll be fine -"
"Fine? Fine? He won’t -"
"- if you just give it some time, seriously, he’ll be okay -"
"He’s - not - OKAY!"
Slam.
Stop. Hold on. He stares, I stand rigid. Wait, what? Breaking through the silence is the sound of my chair falling, clattering to the floor behind me, bringing me back to reality. It is with my palms stinging, burning, making me realise that I’ve slammed them down onto the tabletop, that the extent of my reaction is brought to light. With shaky breaths of air rushing into my lungs, I step back, raising my hands from the table, cautiously, carefully as if it’d leap at me if done too carelessly. And then… then I look up, wide-eyed, confused as I come to stare into Uruha’s calculating gaze. It’s not - that is - I‘m… just not ready to face it. And as Uruha and I stare at each other, I realise with a sinking heart that none of us are, even if we want to. That is what gets to me. That is why I sink to the floor, suddenly exhausted, suddenly, well, I don’t know, suddenly so empty.
"Reita", Uruha says, coming to kneel down by my side. "I know. I know he‘s not okay", he admits, and though I feel it should make me angry that he admits this only now, I can only stare down at my hands, resting in my lap, as he adds the part that I don’t want to hear. "But, don’t you realise that we can’t help him if he doesn’t let us?"
-
What was another day?
He didn’t know what to think of it. Frowning, drying his hair with a towel, Ruki stared into the mirror; stared at himself. Change? He looked the same, there wasn’t any change, no progress what-so-fucking-ever. Still…too much. Pausing, lowering the towel, he took a step closer. Well, he liked his hipbones. Tap-it-y-tap-tap; his fingertips drummed against the jutting bone. But right next to sharp bones was offending fat. Face, shoulder, chest, stomach, hip, legs and feet. His head tilted to the side, Ruki stared, stubbornly not looking away. Hatred, that was it, he felt hatred as his hands moves like an uneven spectacle of feather touches mixed with nails digging deeply into the flesh, marking it red. Stretch, pull, pinch. Watch, see, hate.
His heartbeats were resounding in his head, almost as clear as if the building pressure that was making itself known in his chest was a stethoscope, a way to listen to his life. Blinking slowly, Ruki took a deep breath as he found himself reveling in the overwhelming sensation, that feeling of being oversensitive, perfectly in harmony with his body, his needs, a sort of toxic high. Empty, hollow but oh, so empty. Every particle of his skin felt electrified, a gentle, prickling, sensation overload. He felt clear, clean, so addicted, yet oh.
So numb.
-
"Ruki?"
It was a buzzing morning. A buzzing city. So full of life, weren’t they. From way up high you could almost think the people were like ants scurrying along the streets. Small dots with so much strength. He liked that image. To be honest, sometimes he wanted to give up everything to join them. Know what it would be like, to be like them, live a normal life without a camera lens glued to your faces, a microphone putting all your words into evidence that, indeed, he had said whatever nonsense he managed to get out of his mouth this or that time.
"Ruki?"
Yet at the same time Ruki very much believed that living a normal life, even with all its benefits, would be his downfall. This was why he was here, now, wasn’t it. He’d chosen this for a reason. Because people were watching him, and if people were watching him, he could pretend that he was fine, and if people thought, if so only for a moment, that he was fine, then perhaps… he could, too. And pretending can be enough. Whatever people told him, Ruki knew, pretending could be enough when nothing else was left to try.
"Ruki. Stop daydreaming!"
Blinking owlishly, Ruki snapped out of his thought, looking away from the window to his side, being awarded with the sight of a frustrated yet somehow slightly amused bassist staring right at him. Ah. This was… this was Reita, yes, Reita, perfect Reita, oh, what was he doing there in front of him and was there an escape somewhere because Ruki was far from perfect enough for him yet? Squeezing his eyes tightly shut for a split second, he managed to get his senses back and, with a deep inhale came to stand straight, staring evenly, questioningly, into a pair of observing eyes. "Hi, Rei", he got out, hoping for his dear life that there were no outward signs of how peculiarly unclear everything was around him.
"Hi", was the answer - slightly hesitant, slightly wary, slightly like it shouldn’t be said at all. Oh, the confusion. With a soft tone, "You okay?" was the question Reita asked. So generic, it was all so formal. So this was where they had ended up. Well, at least he knew those patterns by heart, but the thing that puzzled him was how Reita raised a hand, as if to touch him - but stopping in the midst. Coming to stand with his arms crossed instead, as if shying away.
"Uh… Uh-huh!" I’m fine, fine, perfectly fine and I don’t care that you can’t even bear to touch me anymore, not really, it’s not like it makes me want to scream or anything. No. Ruki sucked in a deep breath and forced a smile on his lips. Cursed be his childish chirp of a reply. Up-beat little lies wrapped up in shiny façades. That was him. Wasn’t it? He didn’t know anymore, he really didn’t know anything anymore. His insecurity started threatening to become too great to successfully overshadow by his theatre of confidence. C‘mon, Ruki, do something. "H-how are you?"
"I’m okay."
"Oh." Pause. "That’s… that’s good."
"Yeah."
He tried. He really did try, but coherent ideas of conversation abandoned him, all to be lost in the buzzing sea of his mind. He couldn’t quite name it, couldn’t quite say what it was, it just… was. Like the fact that he was alive, he was putting distance between himself, and everything around him. Ruki wanted to initiate a conversation just like the old days, Ruki wanted to be happy, cheerful, talk and laugh with Reita, but he just couldn’t. It took too much energy - energy that he so desperately needed to get through the day, and the next day, and the day after that, until it would all be alright. Would he understand? Would he forgive him? With a glance at Reita’s contemplative face, Ruki shifted his weight nervously from foot to foot as he asked, "So… did you want something, or what?"
There was a quiet moment before the answer came, but when it did it was a bittersweet gift from tantalizing lips. "Um, yes", he said. "Uruha wondered if you want to tag along to a few nightclubs later." Oh. More silence followed, awkward moments with questions in its wake. Ruki frowned to himself. Wait… Was he - that is, should he answer now? Would Reita come along? And… and how much could he drink, because - oh, the calories. Reaching out a hand to quickly grip at the windowsill, he opened his mouth to answer, but choked. A night out. He’d done so well, he’d been a good boy and his world was swaying before him and that translated to something good, because it was equal to - what exactly? It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered, except.
"Are you…" he tried. Swallowing nervously, he cursed his inability to speak properly as he made himself force the words out; "Are you coming, too?"
"No", was the first answer, and in Ruki’s mind the invitation closed its doors before him, because without Reita, it was useless going. Without Reita, the effort just wasn’t worth it. Letting out a heavy sigh, Ruki made to turn to face the window again, but that was when the shy man suddenly spoke up again. "Wait, I’ll… go if you go." Reita paused, and Ruki looked up, observed quietly - curiously, as a blush coloured the bassist’s cheeks. "I meant, no - wait… I mean, do you… I’ll tag along if you want me to?"
It seemed to Ruki that neither of them had expected those words to leave Reita’s lips. It seemed to Ruki that Reita was just as surprised as he was, to present himself as needing of his company as Ruki secretly was demanding his. Don’t say no. He hesitated, thought and calculated, tried to estimate the danger. Don’t. Don’t do what? Say yes, say no, say something don’t just stand there. "Yes." Fuck. "Okay." No.
No, wait, I didn’t mean it, I don’t think I -
Oh, but see the bright smile he was rewarded with.
-
He couldn’t do beautiful things, there was always something wrong with it, something - something cold about it. He’d try and try and, oh, he’d try but to no avail. Was this it? Was this all he could do? Was this - this fucking mess all he could conjure? Growl turning into a whimper, Ruki’s fist closed around offending paper with its ugly, ugly, stupid… ugly lines. Looking up through a blurry vision, he caught his reflection in the full body mirror. Ugly. Ugly lines. Just, through and through, so damn… damn… Ruki inhaled sharply and turned back to the papers spread out on the floor before him, his brows furrowed in concentration. C’mon. You can do it. You can.
Silence.
Ruki swallowed. You… can’t. You can’t do it. Papers, everywhere, papers filled with doodles, papers filled with writings, papers filled with bitter fucking nothings, papers… papers… blank pages, empty voids that he couldn’t fill. He was supposed to be getting ready. He was supposed to be done with this long time ago, many long hours ago, he was supposed to be making himself decent enough to go out with his friends. But he couldn’t even… make it to the shower. The sun was setting outside half-closed curtains, and he found himself just sitting there, staring up from where he was seated at the floor of his bedroom. Would they even care if he didn’t come? Would they even bother trying to get him along? Reaching a hand up to rub his tired eyes, Ruki sighed. He didn’t know what he wanted. He wanted to be alone, yet he wanted them to care.
Then there followed nothingness. Nonsense minutes. Ruki curled up on the floor, head rested on his arm, the other arm flung over his stomach. Fuck, he was hungry. So fucking hungry it hurt. Thousands of strings tied to various parts of his body, various parts of his mind, all joined together at the devil pit of his stomach. Sucking his lower lip between his teeth, chewing thoughtfully, he moved his head slightly to see the time. 8:45PM. Ah, time.
And later. 9:03PM. Ruki cast a glance at the time for the hundredth time. Couldn’t it just move so it could be a new day so he could lose more weight? He needed to. And this way, this way if he stayed home he could stay clear of the devilish alcohol because damn it, that would take him back to square one. Alcohol, Ruki decided, was worse than a binge. He didn’t want to think of what would happen if he’d not be sober. Eyes located the mirror in the corner, and he couldn‘t help but to think of everything he could lose. But he just, you know… wanted to forget. Run away, not care, just lose himself under the influence. A hand reached up to his face, pinching and pulling slightly at his cheeks. Ah, but, now that he thought about it.
How much calories were there in painkillers?
To be continued. ♡
-
Author's note: My heart is racing, writing this. But I think it would be good if I explained why I sometimes take long to update. It's simple, but I'm really nervous, and wouldn't normally say this, but I've realised I might have to. However I can impossibly say it straight out, but let's just say this fictional Ruki and I have some things in common, right, so sometimes it's really difficult for me to focus, and therefore I have times when I can't write even if I would have wanted to. This is another reason this fanfiction might not be very well written. Please do not judge me too harshly. Please don't expect this to be anything good.
Please understand?
That's all.
I love you all.
Peace out.
-