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Hiyori vanishes without a single warning, and it's almost like he didn't exist at all in the first place. Shin only knows that he was real because of the scarf wrapped loosely around his neck– where it rests heavy like a noose.
Shin isn't good with people, and Hiyori was a breath of fresh air, no matter how creepy he could be at times. He'd take Hiyori's prolonged eye-contact over the suffocating silence inside of his apartment. There's nothing to distract him from his mind. No bouts of laughter, No home cooked meals, No teasing remarks about Shin's lack of backbone. ( “You let people walk all over you,” ) It's all gone, and Shin wants to so badly see Hiyori again– feel him, his touch steady over Shin's shoulder.
‘Come back to me–’
Without Hiyori around, he's able to relapse in an old addiction.
Growing up was hard, and Shin would comfort his insecurities with the help of a razor. Dumb cliche habit, he knows– and he should be over teenage melodrama like that, but he's not.
Shin is a coward, and he'll always choose to take the easy way out. He needs an escape from the emotions that are threatening to make him cry– god, is he this upset over Hiyori leaving him? They weren't even together, yet here he is sitting on top of the toilet seat acting like he's been horrifically betrayed by a lover. ( friend, Hiyori was just his friend )
His hand is poised over his left arm with his fingers gripping onto the sides of a blade. That first layer of skin is easy to cut through. Superficial damage– some bullshit that won't even create a scar. Shin might be pathetic, but this one aspect of his life is where he chooses to be daring. He won't stop at little scratches, the kind strangers would pause at and ask, ‘do you have a pet cat?’ He wants to see blood and the insides of his arm, and he'll get to that point of damage and ruin by the end of the night.
People often assume that an act like this is done within a frenzied stare. For some others, it's easier to inflict pain on oneself through a thick fog of delusion– for Shin, he's best at it when he's thinking clearly. His movements are not crazed when he cuts back into his arm. He does it with intention, seeking the nausea-inducing sight of bright yellow fatty tissue. Maybe even bone– Shin is skinny and it would be easy to cut through everything. He could be happy then, razor having etched lines onto his very skeleton.
The razor's end strips through that white layer of flesh. It's accompanied by a burning pain. The skin around the wound begins to gape– and Shin can see into the most inner parts of himself. Blood seeps out from the cut, thick like sludge.
“Get out of my head– Why won't you get out of my fucking head?” Hiyori isn't around to answer the question.
Though, he imagines the other man's response. Shin can almost see him– the twinkle in his teal eyes, smile sharp and his head held at an angle. ‘Shin dear, it sounds like you're obsessed with me.’
He is, and he's angered by the comment– even if it's some part of his mind. The razor makes itself at home against his skin– pressing into his body once more. Too deep– he moves on from that cut to create another one right below it. His hands are made sticky by his blood, wet and at the same time, dry. “Why did you leave? I thought–” I was special to you, “I thought we were friends!”
Shin thinks Hiyori would laugh at him. ‘You’re throwing a tantrum like a little spoiled kid, Shin. Aren't you a grown man? You should act like one.’
“It's your fault! You made me– You made me love you! Why did you have to do that? Why did you make me feel wanted?”
‘You're out of your mind, Shin. I never made you do anything.’ That’s true. Shin fell in love on his own accord, and Hiyori had nothing to do with it– he would sweetly smile, and Shin would be enamoured by it. Only Hiyori's smile, no one else's could ever hope to compare.
“Can you come back? I'm not mad– I could never be mad at you. Come back to me, please, Sou. I need you here.”
Not even the imagined Hiyori responds back to that. He can only hear the sound of his blood dripping onto the bathroom floor–
Pitter patter.
“I'll always love you.”