BROKEN THINGS

14

Rahul wasn't a stranger to pain. Physical. Mental. Or emotional. He wasn't a stranger to pain but despite his ... habits, he didn't actually love pain. Of any kind. He hated that his body was throbbing all over. That he couldn't breath too deep. That his jaw hurt to even open, he hadn't been able to eat much despite his stomach's grumbles. That his brain was not working at a usual pace. He was getting dizzy and sleepy. And he still had a lot of work to do, so he couldn't just give into his body's tantrums, and he hated that.

He hated that he kept getting flashes of irrational fear. He hated how he hadn't defended himself from Greg. He hated how pathetic it felt to have his loved ones look at him like he was fragile. About to break. He wasn't. He wanted to scream that at them. But his mind kept whispering that they were right. He was weak. His mind was going too fast but somehow not fast enough. Speaking too much to him but nothing of importance. He felt irritable, he wanted to snap at everyone to back off. But he couldn't because it hurt how much he missed having them this close. And how much he wanted it to stick.

Neither did he like the pain that he inflicted on himself. It wasn't really love for it that made him do it again and again. Especially when it was leaving a physical reminder of his weakness. It wasn't euphoric for him to cut himself.

But it was relieving. And he loved that. He loved to feel his actual pain drain out with his blood. Leaving him emptied. Blissfully, emptied. His mind would stop whispering nonstop. His heart would stop aching. Even his body would take a pause, no matter it's condition; though he had never had broken ribs before, he was curious if it still would take a break now. Everything would just stop. Freeze in time and place. Leaving him weightless. Finally back in control of himself. He loved that control.

Which was why as he sat amongst his teammates, trying really hard to follow the conversation, he really missed the trusty weight of his switchblade in his pocket. It was lying around somewhere in his kitbag. He kept zoning out, though the discussion was extremely important, just to think about the feel of it against his skin. To break this hazy spinning thing his mind was doing.

"Bhaiya?"

Rahul turned his head towards the kid. Mahi was still in the room, mostly to recieve clear instructions on what he could say to the others and what he shouldn't. The debate which the other three were engaged in was based on how much would be wise and necessary to reveal. Mahi was looking at him a little trepidly.

"Can I do something for you?" he asked softly. Nervously. He hadn't ever seen the boy cry but this was the closest he had ever seen him to shaky. Unnerved. In desperate need of a hug. In desperate need to do something useful. Being useful was a comfort to the kid. Rahul could relate.

Well. Two birds. One stone.

He carefully lifted his arm, mindful of his chest's groan, beckoning the boy ever. Mahi leaned close and Rahul put an arm around him, rubbing his shoulder. The best he could do at the moment. He could see Sachin glance curiously towards them before turning back to his conversation. Then he whispered in his ears.

"Can you get my kitbag here?"

Mahi looked mildly confused at his request and nodded, leaving to fetch it.

Sourav yelled after him, "Do not tell anyone anything if you meet them!"

Sachin turned to Rahul curiously, "What did you send him out for?"

"Kid needed something to do. Told him to fetch my kitbag," Rahul shrugged.

"What for?"

"No reason," Rahul sat up a little straighter, changing the topic, "What were we talking about again?"

Anil answered him, "What all we need to prepare for when you press charges against Chappel," he then went on listing all the possibilities but Rahul was stuck in one place. When... he pressed charges?

"You don't need to worry about that," he leaned back on the pillow nonchalantly. Well, he hadn't missed anything important then.

"I am not pressing charges,".