It was too late the moment you were born, weak and flawed. Death had laid its stamp on you, impressing an invisible brand on your heart.
This child is mine.
You grew up sickly, you grew up weak. Your parents kept you safe in bed, kept your meals regulated and a nurse on call. All you had to do was press the buzzer and she would come help you out of bed to the toilet or to the window seat if you wanted to look at the world that was too much for you.
Your parents make your home a fortress but no lock has ever baffled Death.
When Miyahara takes you on a bike ride, your chest explodes. Agony spikes through your every cell and you fall into a black oblivion that crushes your chest and sends stars in front of your eyes. You see the universe and how invisible you are, how you are too small to be even a speck in it.
You see your eventual fate and you decide that riding will be what you do from now on. You will push yourself until your body gives out. You will drive yourself to your own death.
Your parents built the castle to keep Death out, not to keep you in, and you escape easily.
*
Riding has the opposite effect to what you intended. Your body grows stronger and your heart learns to cope. You chase that sensation of dying, the knife-edge of pain slashing into your chest, but you can only catch it sometimes.
It’s easiest on the mountains, when your whole body labors to defy gravity, when your muscles are overworked and you’re panting with dehydration. You’re so light-headed sometimes that it feels like you’re flying, heading for those stars you see when you shut your eyes.
It’s easiest but it’s not reliable. You find another way.
*
It hurts. Of course it hurts. It hurts so sharply and so fiercely that you catch your breath against the sting of it, head tilting back so you can suck in greedy gasps of precious air. It hurts and it hurts and it hurts and it’s so wonderful.
Your body adjusts to this too. You have to start cutting deeper.
*
“I’ve stopped,” you tell your boyfriend and add conscientiously in your mind ‘cutting my arms’. Onoda’s a good boyfriend. He won’t ever push for more than you’re comfortable with. If you say you’re uncomfortable being naked around him, that you don’t want him touching you down there, he’ll respect it.
He’ll never know you changed from your arms to your thighs so that when you ride, it would hurt with every pump of your muscles.
FILL: Team Prince of Tennis, M
Fandom: Yowamushi Pedal
Major Tags: tags omitted
Other Tags: tags omitted
Original Work: here by
Word Count: 455
Descriptive self-harm & blood & suicidal ideation, please heed that warning.
***
It was too late the moment you were born, weak and flawed. Death had laid its stamp on you, impressing an invisible brand on your heart.
This child is mine.
You grew up sickly, you grew up weak. Your parents kept you safe in bed, kept your meals regulated and a nurse on call. All you had to do was press the buzzer and she would come help you out of bed to the toilet or to the window seat if you wanted to look at the world that was too much for you.
Your parents make your home a fortress but no lock has ever baffled Death.
When Miyahara takes you on a bike ride, your chest explodes. Agony spikes through your every cell and you fall into a black oblivion that crushes your chest and sends stars in front of your eyes. You see the universe and how invisible you are, how you are too small to be even a speck in it.
You see your eventual fate and you decide that riding will be what you do from now on. You will push yourself until your body gives out. You will drive yourself to your own death.
Your parents built the castle to keep Death out, not to keep you in, and you escape easily.
*
Riding has the opposite effect to what you intended. Your body grows stronger and your heart learns to cope. You chase that sensation of dying, the knife-edge of pain slashing into your chest, but you can only catch it sometimes.
It’s easiest on the mountains, when your whole body labors to defy gravity, when your muscles are overworked and you’re panting with dehydration. You’re so light-headed sometimes that it feels like you’re flying, heading for those stars you see when you shut your eyes.
It’s easiest but it’s not reliable. You find another way.
*
It hurts. Of course it hurts. It hurts so sharply and so fiercely that you catch your breath against the sting of it, head tilting back so you can suck in greedy gasps of precious air. It hurts and it hurts and it hurts and it’s so wonderful.
Your body adjusts to this too. You have to start cutting deeper.
*
“I’ve stopped,” you tell your boyfriend and add conscientiously in your mind ‘cutting my arms’. Onoda’s a good boyfriend. He won’t ever push for more than you’re comfortable with. If you say you’re uncomfortable being naked around him, that you don’t want him touching you down there, he’ll respect it.
He’ll never know you changed from your arms to your thighs so that when you ride, it would hurt with every pump of your muscles.