Putting Pen To Paper - Naegami Story

Eyeteeth Arc - 5: sink into me

Treasured,

I woke up early this morning thinking of you. Usually, you are held safely in my arms in our bed, (what a phrase), and I can kiss your eyelids until they open for me. Without you, I hug the pillow that still has the remnant of your honeydew. The sun rose, but didn't brush over your brown hair, and I missed the way it would paint it gold. When I rose, the floor whined in protest that you hadn't yet touched it. Inconveniences befell me everywhere. The medicine cabinet insisted on swinging open no matter how many times I shut it, hitting my forehead as I spat toothpaste into the sink. The drawers tried to hold shut, catching on the wood holding them. The shirt I had pressed and ironed and had put on the hanger had fallen to a rumpled heap on the floor. My glasses had a fingerprint smeared on them. Carrying on without you is intimidating to me, a person who is rarely intimidated. I gulp and shudder and react strangely to things that remind me of you. I do not consider myself a strange person, but I have had awful luck with appearing put together recently. Without you, my charm, nothing is good and whole. I hear curtains being drawn, metal rings scraping against the rod, and I turn, expecting to see you there, chin held in hand, eyes surveying the world outside the window. The views from our windows now must be wildly different. So I burn my eyes and stare into the sun in order to know that there is one thing we still share in common, that we can both be touched by while apart. I begin to utter your name so often, and I hesitate while passing your office door. I went inside the other day. You must have rummaged through it before departing, or you hadn't cleaned up after the last time I had visited. Seeing the distressed office worsened my worry when trying to find you the other day.

I looked in the mirror today and stared at my scar. I often forget that it is there. I ran my finger over it, tickling my lips which were surprisingly sensitive to my touch. I assume they've gotten so used to your kisses. I touched the mark on my skin and blushed and felt you closer to me. The day you blessed me with this mark was bleak but also relieving, because after so long of vomiting and feeling ready to decompose, you were alive. Alive and with an intense look on your eye, a knife in your hand that soon dragged through me. I think of it and am pleased you were the one to do it to me. No one else in the world could have given me such handsome scars. The memory seems like it should be horrifying, I suppose, and I think for you that it might be. We've been avoiding this subject I think. The memory keeps me warm. Knowing you were there, that you are strong, your arms swinging to and fro, that curve of your brow and the anger on your face. I must sound mad, but really the memory captivates me. I felt no fear, and still I feel no fear looking back. I get exhilarated in a perverse way. I look at my palm and see your mark there. In my reflection I see the length of the scar on my shoulder and trace it, shivering. I look at it and think of your teeth sinking into it, leaving it purple and bruised. Skin breaking sometimes, blood welling and you tasting it. I've wondered why you like to bite it, and I wonder if you hate it, I wonder if you are taking out your anger on it. And dear, I hate the idea of that, because I like this scar, and I enjoy what you've done to it. Don't think me sick, but it is a certain arousal knowing you've done something permanently to my body. I hope you like it as much as I do, else this entire thing is embarrassing. I can't help but be enamored with everything you do to me.

Missing you is like missing oxygen, it should be everywhere around me but it is so debilitating that it is lacking. I can only hope you're able to cope with this better than I am.

Flustered, embarrassed, and longing for you,

Byakuya

a/n: thanks for reading 😭😭 i'm kinda embarrassed but at this point...losing my mind.