// Best YA Romance in the Romance Fiction Awards 2021//
Thrill Hawthorne, keeping up to his name, lives his life on the edge. Or so people think.
Ignatius Rookwood is the darling son and the sole male heir to a gigantic business corporation. Or so...
Trigger warning : self harm and mentions of suicide.
If anyone is uncomfortable reading this, feel free to DM me, or leave a comment here, and I will give you a gist of the important things that happen in this chapter.
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Drayden. It was always Drayden. Every time and everywhere.
When Thrill was eight years old and Drayden was seven, the latter had caught Thrill by the arm and dragged him to his father.
"He makes horrible omelettes, dad," Drayden had said, scaring Thrill shitless. Before the young boy could start a never-ending string of apologies, Drayden added, "So instead of trying to kill me with bad food, he should come to school with me."
Thrill smashed the bottle against the edge of the bathtub and then slid down to sit on the cold, wet floor.
When he was ten, Drayden had caught Thrill by the arm and placed a small piece of paper in his palm.
"What's this?"
Drayden grinned as if he had just won the Nobel Prize or something. "You're a Hawthorne now, so I thought you'd want a cool name to go with it. I did some research with Miss Lily's help and found this!"
Thrill read the letters scribbled on the paper in neat handwriting, "M-I-T-H-R-I-L. That's a stupid name."
"No, you idiot." Drayden lightly smacked his arm. "It's an awesome name. It means strength. And also light."
Thrill no longer remembered what his name was before Drayden started calling him Mithril. It did not matter.
He picked up a piece of broken glass that lied beside him.
Drayden was the first one in Thrill's pathetic little life who loved him. Drayden was also the first one in Thrill's pathetic little life whom he loved. Only, he was too pathetic to love Drayden the right way.
He gripped the jagged piece of glass tighter, feeling it pierce through the skin.
Thrill had to be the luckiest child on the planet that one of the richest men in the country took him in, and his son called him a brother.
But of course, he had to fuck it all up.
Thrill placed the piece of glass against his arm – watching his wrecked reflection on it – and in one swift motion, he slid it across his skin. He watched the red pour out of his body, felt the pain sear into his mind and it felt... good. It felt good. He needed to feel this - physical pain always seemed easier to deal with than the suffocation that choked on him every waking hour.
Every time he saw him.
Why, just why, did he have to be so messed up?
He cut through his skin again and again and again, until his hands shook so much he could not do that simple task anymore. There was a pool of red around him, in his hands and on his clothes. Tears blurred his sight and his mind grew numb with the pain.
This is what happens when you bring a stray dog into the house.
That was true, and in his heart, Thrill knew it.
All he ever did was bring shame to this family. He was a burden, a filthy dog. Everyone would be better off if he wasn't there.
"Thrill? Where are you?"
He couldn't tell if someone was actually calling him or it was just his mind playing tricks on him.
It didn't matter.
He stared, unblinkingly, at the blood and wondered how much of it he would have to lose to just... end this, once and for all. That would be for the best, really.
"Oh my god, THRILL!!" He could not put a face to the voice, or if it was even real. But the next moment, he felt someone kneel next to him and pry the piece of glass away from his fingers. He did not even know he was still holding on to it.
"What have you done? Why –"
"Quinn?" Thrill's voice was cracked and barely audible.
"Yes, yes, it's me. I'm here."
He threw his arms around her, uncaring of the white-hot pain that followed. He buried his face in her chest and finally broke down into sobs. "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."
"Sshh, it's okay," she whispered, holding him gently but firmly, like she knew that all he ever needed was love.
"H - He's my bro-brother, Quinn," Thrill cried. "I – I – I'm sorry."
"You have nothing to apologise for, Thrill."
"Yes, I do," he screamed, wanting to push Quinn away but she refused to let him go. "I do, Quinn. I do!" He clenched his fists around her shirt and continued to cry.
She held him and said nothing.
Thrill did not know how long they sat there. All he did was scream and cry and apologise, over and over again till it hurt his throat to speak anymore, till it hurt his lungs to cry anymore. Could you have so much hurt that it would eventually drown out the steel claws constantly gnawing at your heart? Could you have so much hurt that it would no longer hurt?
Thrill was exhausted. He wanted the pain to end.
Which was a selfish thought because he was the one who caused all of this in the first place...
If there was anything in the world he could do to end this, he would do it. Anything. Anything to stop hurting.
Anything just to stop disappointing him.
"Please don't – don't tell him," Thrill gasped.
Quinn didn't reply.
"Promise me you w – won't tell Drayden."
Because it was always Drayden. Every time and everywhere.
~~~
A/n
Okay wow, I'm rusty, my writing has gotten worse and I apologise for this chapter as well as my bad writing... (｡ŏ﹏ŏ)
