Watch the Fire Fill Your Lungs with Smoke for the Last Time [Original S/A]
This is an original piece of fiction, written mostly for character development.
Disclaimer: Title text belongs to 'Let it Bleed' by The Used. All characters belong to me.
Author's Notes: More like, description of the situation; Casey's thinking about a person who's really close to him, and they were like a brother to him, and he told him that he loved him, more than just friends. The boy went off and slept with an 'ex boyfriend', and told Casey about it, and left again. Casey, recovering from an eating disorder and an addiction to self-harm, instinctively went for some pot, but that just made what he really wanted to do make that much more sense, and brought him back to his old habits.
WARNING: Self harm, mild drug use.
Casey stared blankly at the rolled joint in front of him, the only emotion visible on his face lying in the slight downward tilt of his lips, showing a touch of frustration. His eyes, a faint pink color, hinted at tears, ones that were no longer present. But, most dominant now, was frustration.
His lighter was upstairs, tucked away in his bedside table with one of Alexis' old barettes. He hadn't needed to use it for anything but smoking for a while, but now...
He sighed softly, slowly pushing himself out of the kitchen chair he was residing in. He'd been there for nearly an hour, ever since he watched him go. He just let him, too. Didn't even try and stop him, didn't try to ask him to stay, didn't even try and tell him how it made him fucking feel to see him going back to that fucking asshole.
And why would he? It was all his fault to begin with. He should have just kept his mouth shut, then everything would still be alright between them...
The teen made a soft, indignant noise, turning on the kitchen stove, leaning down with the joint between his lips, inhaling deeply as the edge of the rolled paper touched the flame. He winced at the thick smoke that burned down his throat, filling his lungs, turning his head into a swimming mist.
He pulled back, standing at full height and staring down at the open flame before him, letting the smoke out through his lips slowly. He stayed like that for a minute or two, just looking, listening to the faint hiss of the gas that fuelled the fire.
Then, slowly, he extended a slightly trembling hand out before him, far enough so his forearm was bared out above the fire. He let out a tiny whimper, tightening his hand into a tight fist as he watched the skin turn an angry red color, peeling away a little bit at the very surface. Pain shot up his arm, bringing tears to his eyes, tearing a soft, almost-scream from his lips.
His body forced him to jerk his arm away from the flame, crumpling to his knees, cradling his arm to his chest. Casey welcomed the extra pain this action brought on, feeling the fibers of his shirt scrape against the burned, over-sensitive flesh. It was all he could do to not start sobbing, all his emotions mixing with the pain and welling up, spilling over in the form of angry tears.
But, in his mind, he wanted to do it again.
He wanted to hurt.
So, maybe, he wouldn't have to deal with the pain he felt for him....