past is in the past, right?

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do you?
and will you?
That's my question, but will you ever answer?
You won't.
You will never embrace me with your welcoming words, nor will you listen to me.

Will you ever love me like you loved yourself?

-

Warning, the following content you will be reading will contain these contents below.
Please read carefully to avoid triggers.

- Gore
- Graphic Artwork
- Abuse
- Drug usage
- Drug usage without consent
- Blood
- Gagging
- Brief suicide mention

If these topics make you uncomfortable, uneasy, or trigger you in any way, please remove/refrain yourself from reading any further.
Your mental health matters more than a book.

Enjoy : • )

Shout out to my friend @missingparrots on Twitter for helping me with artwork! Please go follow it and read TAEIG ! His work is honestly fantastic, and would mean a lot if you showed some love.

-

They stood swaying in the kitchen. Sleep practically weighing down their eye lids, threatening to close. Yet they stood awake, stirring a spoon in a repeating circular motion, liquid whirling around in the glass mug. With the thickness of the drink, it latched onto the spoon like mud. Thick yet smooth.
They felt their entire body weigh down onto the floor. Their bare feet cold from the tiles. Yet felt numb. Besides the feeling of their arm, the staticky blades overwhelming and drowning their entire forearm in spiky pain.
They dropped the spoon onto the counter and held the cup in between their palms. Slowly moving their legs, and walked out of the kitchen.
Everything was silent. As quiet as a mouse, they walked up the stairs, boards creaking underneath their steps. Their mind was utterly empty, fuzzy. A empty canvas, with yet a single brush to stroke its colors onto, had not a single drop of paint. All was still.
Balloon stood in-front of a door. Eyes glaring into the wooden frames, they lifted a fist and knocked.
And waited.
Whilst they waited, they could hear slight grumbling, and the turning of sheets being moved off the bed and onto the floor with a thud, along with foot steps that seemed to drag.
The door knob turned and clicked, door slightly opening ajar before the brown eyes met with Balloon's cold, yet bright red Ruby eyes. Nickel stood, slightly taken back at the sudden appearance of that said Balloon and began to close the door — the door jolted open, looking down, noticing Balloon's foot lodged in between the door and stepped back, blinking in slight confusion.

" Balloon - it's.. 2 in the fucking morning.. what do you want ? " The boy, with gray hair and dirty blond roots asked, glaring at the person before them that stood with a glass.
Balloon just stared in silence, lips shut tightly against each other. Before uttering,

" I'm sorry.. for. Yesterday. " Balloon smiled, fingers dancing along the glass, tapping it.

" .. What? " Nickel furrowed his brows in disbelief, " Balloon — "

" No no, don't say anything. I'm so sorry for how I've treated you Nickel. I should've listened to your advice, but - I didn't. And.. " Balloon hesitated, chewing on the bottom of their lip.
" You were right - about everything! You.. opened my eyes.. and.. I wanted to know if. Maybe this could be the start of something ? " Balloon moved a glass to Nickel.
" A special recipe, take it as you will. " Nickel stared in astonishment. Staring down at the glass and sighed. A hand slowly reaching out and grabbed the glass, looking at the substance in the drink.

" .. Balloon. I'm flattered. But why now? Everyone is practically knocked out cold.. " Nickel grumbled.

" Oh— well, I wanted to show you something. Something I think you need to see. "

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