Chasing visions of our futures

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N/A: TRIGGER WARNING FOR SELF HARM
also, this chapter is pretty trashy so sorry

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•Chapter Eleven

p a i n

It started at his feet, slowly crept up his legs, and laid itself in the pit of his stomach where it unfurled and wrapped it's thorny self around his heart, constricting his once steady heartbeat. It moved upwards, latching onto his insides and squeezed his throat. It wove it's way up to his brain and let itself rest, it's thorns turning his head to goop.

He choked on the few breaths he tried to suck in, struggled to make his heart beat again, internally cried out at the pain covering his brain. The thoughts in his head were held in place by the pain's harsh thorns, the force crushing his throat made it harder for him to calm himself and instead did the opposite. The grasp on his heart gave him the feeling of a never-ending heart attack.

p a i n

It took over his body, made him aware of its existence and had more control over him than he did. It told when to feel, how to feel, but never told him why he should feel. You're going to feel like this forever. Miserable. It made him so damn miserable. But why?

p a i n

It numbed him, kept him locked up from the rest of the world, pushed everyone he ever cared about away from him. It took things from him. Told him those things weren't real. Things like happiness and love.

Bandaids. They're bandaids; temporarily patching up a wound in your life that's always been there. Bandaids don't last forever, they'll fall off eventually and you'll fall apart all over again.

Pain reminded him of the thing he'll never have again.
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Somehow he ended up at home, or at least he thought he ended up at home. He wasn't sure how or when Riot led him there; they could've been there for a while for all he knew. The familiar layout of the house and smell of nature, scents like lavender and fresh rain, helped reassurance him that he was indeed at home.

"Hello?" he called out down the hallway. No answer. Relief flooded over him like a wave and for the first time, he was pleased to know that he would have the house to himself for a while. It was one of those rare nights where his moms were either stuck at work or hanging out with their friends. Upon checking his phone, the most recent texts from them informed him that they decided to go have a couple of drinks and if he wanted, he could invite his friends over to stay the night so he wasn't stuck at home alone. The final text told him that there were leftovers in the kitchen.

Riot ran, tugging the harness out of Kirishima's grasp and disappeared down the hallway towards the kitchen. He fell into a crouch, fingers running through his messy and sweaty hair as he spoke quietly to himself.

"You're strong, you're the strongest you've ever been. You can get through this, you will get through this," he whispered with shut eyes. He was capable of getting through it, with and without the help of others.

Telling himself that didn't work when it should have. Nothing felt real. He got the sensation that he was floating through life, not living the best he could and was missing so much compared to everyone else. Freedom. He was missing the freedom he briefly experienced before what terrible vision he had left disappeared. The lack of normality, of freedom, was burning him slowly and he didn't know how to make it stop before it turned him to ash. He wanted to see the world and all its vivid colours, he wanted to watch a movie with his friends and not give them the burden of having to describe all the events going on. He wanted to know what it's like to be behind the wheel of a car and to ride a bike without someone with him. Or to simply enjoy a run down the sidewalk during the summer time.

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