Pessimistic [Completed]

16

Hey, got this chapter done fast. Just a forewarning for Sxlf Hxrm, and just angst in general. Next few chapters are just going to be incredibly angsty in general :/ Anyways, have fun crying or something :)

The door swung shut behind Pico. He wiped his face, just in case he looked like he'd been crying. His face felt slightly stiff. The air conditioning felt cold on his sweaty skin. He just wanted to get in his bed and never wake up.

Nene was in the kitchen, a worried expression as she paced around on the phone. She glanced at him, sighing. "Nevermind, hes fine." She hung up and set the phone down. "Where the fuck were you?"

"Doesn't matter."

"Doesn't- Doesnt matter? You ran out of the house at morning, don't come back till summer sundown, and that's all you've got to say?" Nene exclaimed. "Keith and I were worried sick! I was going to call to the police to look for you!"

"Its nothing."

"Are you serious with this shit?! Keith needed you here for him when he came back, but you decided to run off for no reason! He's going through something, and you weren't there for him!"

I'm going through something too, Pico thought to himself. He didn't care about anything right now though.

A door opened above them and Keith came downstairs, his dull blue hair in a mess and his cheeks wet.

He run up to Pico and hugged him, shoving his face in his shoulder.

Pico stood there awkwardly, not returning the hug.

Keith said something muffled, gripping Pico's sweatshirt.

He looked up at Pico, fresh tears flooding his eyes. It hurt Pico to see him like this.

"What's wrong?" Pico mumbled, barely able to form the words.

Keith sniffled. "She broke up with me." He held Pico tighter. "I didn't think it would hurt this much."

"You kinda had it coming though."

Keith let go of him in suprise stepping back. "W-what?"

"You were cheating on her, you can't say she'd be okay with that."

"So you're just going to tell me I deserve this?"

"Thats not what I meant." Pico put his hands up in front of him, trying to calm him down.

"What did you mean then?"

"I- she doesn't matter though, I'm-"

"She wasn't your girlfriend, this isn't about you! Don't tell me she wasn't important!"

"Well am I not important to you?!"

"This isn't about you!"

"Why should I care then?!"

"Because you're my boyfriend! You're supposed to be there for me!"

"When I said I loved you, I never thought I'd have to help you get over another girl!"

"YOU'RE THE ONE WHO ASKED ME OUT!"

"NO, I DIDN'T! NENE FORCED ME TOO! I WASN'T READY FOR ANYTHING!"

"WHY DID YOU SAY ANYTHING THEN?! IF YOU WERENT READY, WHY BOTHER SAYJNG ANYTHING ABOUT IT TO ANYONE?!"

"I THOUGHT I'D BE BETTER OFF IF I DIDN'T WAIT, BUT APPARENTLY I WAS WRONG! YOU'RE RIGHT, I SHOULDN'T HAVE SAID ANYTHING. I SHOULDN'T HAVE FOLLOWED YOU, I SHOULDNT HAVE HELPED YOU, I SHOULDN'T HAVE TALKED TO YOU, I SHOULD HAVE LEFT YOU THERE SO YOU FIXED YOUR BULLSHIT YOURSELF, BECAUSE HOW THE FUCK AM I SUPPOSED TO HELP OTHER PEOPLE WHEN I CAN BARELY TAKE CARE OF MYSELF?!" He wasn't even thinking anymore.

Keith stared at him, not even bothering to fight back tears. "Pico, I can't with you. I'm just done. You obviously arent ready to care about someone."

"What?" Picos voice cracked.

"I'm b-"

"Breaking up with me. I know. I guess I didn't realize I was that bad that you would hate me."

"I don't h-"

"Spare me your pity." Pico walked past him, practically pushing him to the floor.

He ran upstairs into his room, slamming the door so hard he could have sworn he heard the door crack.

He couldn't believe he had said those things.

Of course Keith would hate him, who wouldn't? He would. He did.

He was supposed to comfort him, not complain about him.

He really should have ran away when he had the chance.

He rubbed his head, wincing. He was just glad nobody noticed the bruise.
If only he had cracked his skull open. He could have died, and never said those things.

He pulled up his sleeve, staring at his wrist. He had an idea.

He went into his closet, remembering the box of old art supplies under the chairs.

He pulled it out into the open to see what there was, hoping for something specific.

It was mostly notebooks and pencils, which he pulled out and set aside. A box of crayons, some markers, a pair of scissors.

He found a pencil box with some card making tools, including what he was looking for.

He pulled out the exacto knife before putting everything else back and shoving the box back into the closet.

He pushed the little button up, and it clicked softly. The tip was a little dusty, so he wiped it off on his shirt.

He hesitated a moment, before pressing the point against his arm, scratching it a few times over until it finally bled.

He pulled the edge along the line, making it longer.

He deserved this. His blood was meant to be spilt. He was doing a good thing.

He did this again, tracing more lines on his arm.

This was redemption.

He wiped the bloody blade on his arm before clicking it closed.

He needed to sleep for now. Maybe this was all a dream. A lucid dream. A lucid nightmare.

He could wake up tommorow, and none of this would have happened.

This couldn't have happened, could it?