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Mob was at home alone, not really doing anything. A bit sore from running with the body improvement club, but overall, it was peaceful. Too peaceful. He didn’t like it when it got too peaceful. His parents were out on a business trip, ritsu had gone to shou’s for the evening, and dimple was off doing who knows what (not that he really cared, but he was someone to talk to if nothing else.) The house was all his. He was completely alone, and he didn’t like it one bit. Ever since the incident with Ritsu and his powers when they were kids, Shigeo grew a dislike for silence or absence of company. Thoughts would creep into his head that he didn’t like, he knew for the most part that they weren’t true, but that didn’t make them hurt any less. His brain would always start going on about the people he’s hurt, who will be next, and ironically, thoughts like these are exactly what cause the explosions. With each thought, the percentage goes up. He’s at his desk trying to study at this point, anything to get his mind off being alone, but as predicted, it doesn’t do much. He’s still thinking. Images of ritsu’s limp body, of Reigen bleeding out, Teruki’s kind smile slowly fading as he loses consciousness flashing through his head, and like clockwork the percentage starts to rise.
62%
71%
84%
All he wants is for this to stop, yet he can’t stop thinking about it. Water. Maybe water would help. His knees get weaker with each step as he pads across the hall to the bathroom, bad vibes hot on his heels and a fresh wave of nausea sweeping over him as his feet finally make contact with the cool tiles neatly slotted in place on the floor. He shuts the door a bit more forcefully than intended and locks it. No one is home, but it makes him feel better knowing that no one could walk in on him like this nonetheless, chances are chances after all, no matter how slim. As he slumps against the wooden door, he becomes hyper aware of his breathing as it echoes off of the pristine white walls carefully lining the room. He’s hyperventilating. When did that happen? Wait, why is he in here again? Right. Water. He slowly begins to stand, using the door as back support and the ledge of the counter to perch his hand as he hoists himself up. He sees his reflection as he turns the handles to the faucet. Ugh, Pathetic. He hadn’t even noticed the obvious tears in his eyes until his eyes landed on the wretched thing, and now they were beginning to fall as he stared deeper into his own clouded ruby eyes in the freshly cleaned mirror. The lights flicker.
99%
No. No no no no no. Not now. Not here. He can’t be alone. Not like this.
He looks around, there has to be something, anything that can help him calm down. He tears his eyes away from his reflection. The faucet is still on. He adjusts the water to cold and splashes a few waves of it onto his delicate features, making sure to pay extra attention to his red rimmed eyes and tear stained cheeks. It seems to help a bit, his breathing is slowing down, but as he’s turning the handles again to shut off the water, he catches his reflection once more. He looks a little less pathetic now, with the water running down his face it’s much less obvious he’d been crying, but he caught his eyes again. Arguably his most striking feature, and probably his own personal least favorite. They only ever got that red when he was at or near 100%. God he hated that color. As much as Teruki tells him how lovely the deep shade of crimson in his eyes is, and as much as he appreciates it, he can’t ever seem to change his opinion about them. A reminder. A reminder of all the people he’s hurt red like their blood, all the damage he’s done, all the awful things he’s caused, just by feeling. He hates it, so much in fact, that a large crack resounds through the small room. This snaps him out of his trance of self hatred. He meets eyes with his reflection once more, except this time, it’s distorted. He’s cracked the mirror. He feels the sensation of hot tears on his cheeks once more as his back hits the wall. It happened again. In a single moment of lost control, he’s already screwed something up. He stares at the distorted image of himself over the cracks, and instead of calming him down, his brain supplies him with, “what if that had been Teruki? Or Ritsu? How many times will you have to hurt the people you love before they realize you’re a hazard and finally throw you away?”
100%
No. No. Not if he could help it. His eyes land on the first drawer in front of him and he flings it open, gripping the handle like a lifeline. His now ruby red eyes land on the razor, and before he can even stop to think about what he’s doing, the porcelain of the sink is painted red with his own blood.
99%
The scent of iron fills the air as he slices another deep gash in the underside of his thin wrist.
97%
The sound is similar to that of cutting into a peach, perhaps almost comforting under different circumstances.
92%
Were his hands shaking this much before? Maybe he should switch wrists.
89%
The cool sensation of the blade against his skin mixed with the stinging pain of the cuts was almost nice at this point. It certainly beat the feeling of reaching 100% earlier.
86%
It was starting to really sting now, but it was okay, he deserved it after all. He made Teruki and ritsu feel like this, now he’s simply paying the price of his own misdeeds. This was all his fault.
80%
CLANG
The razor escapes the grip of his quivering fingers with an accompanying sound as it crashes to the now red stained surface of the sink, mini waterfalls of blood cascading down his fingers like sand in an hourglass. His wrists are burning now and so are his cheeks, but at this point he’s too exhausted to care, once again turning the handle on the faucet to cold. The red rivers are slowly washed away by the slow stream of clean water cascading freely from the smooth head of the tap, the pinkish mixture swirling about the drain before disappearing through the grates. Shigeo takes a deep breath in and holds it there as he thrusts out his left arm, suspending his mangled wrist under the steady stream. A sharp sting traveled down the appendage, and despite this, he held his arm in place. The cool of the liquid soon helped to calm the angry burning in his arm as it slowly seeped into the freshly created carvings in the previously smooth skin of his forearm. Once the numbness had set in completely, Shigeo repeats the process with his right wrist, using his freshly numb left one to dig for something to clean the wound with as he played Reigen’s and his mother’s words over in his head, lecturing him about it getting infected. He finds a bottle of hydrogen peroxide and hovers his hand over the sink once more, slowly pouring it over the thick gashes. White bubbles rise from the cuts as the stinging sensation returns, and he once more runs his open wounds under the stream of the sink after approximately thirty seconds of letting it fizz over the fresh cuts. And once more, he repeats the process with the other wrist. The only thing he needed now was bandages and a hoodie, because God knows ritsu would freak out if he saw them. Quickly wrapping up his injuries, he tucks the roll of bandages back into the first aid drawer and trudges back to his room. Shigeo quietly shuts the door to his bedroom and looks over to the digital alarm clock perched beside his bed.
10:57pm
Oh no.
Ritsu was supposed to be back at 11pm, and Ritsu was never one to be late. In fact, usually he was early.
Creeeeeeeaaak...
The sound of the front door opening rang through the house. Speak of the devil. Mob runs to his closet and practically scrambles to get the clothing over his head before ritsu can show up in his doorway to greet him.
“Nii-san!”
Ritsu’s voice echoes through the hallway as Shigeo tugs the sleeves down over his bandages. Just as ritsu manages to get his door open, Mob turns to face him. He manages a scratchy sentence, hoping ritsu wouldn’t notice his swollen cheeks or the subtle hoarseness to his voice. “Welcome back, Ritsu. Did you have fun at suzuki’s?”
“Yeah, I did. Are you okay? You look pale, and your voice is scratchy.” He should’ve known he would pick up on it immediately. After all, ritsu had always been the smart and observant one. “Just a bit tired is all. I’m fine, Ritsu.” He didn’t look convinced in the least, but thankfully let it go this time. He must’ve been exhausted as well, and on this particular occasion, Shigeo was thankful for it. “Well, I’m pretty tired myself, you know how Shou is. So I’ll see you tomorrow, Nii-san. Goodnight.” Ritsu says, tone soft, concern evident through his forced smile. A hopefully not too obvious sigh of relief falls from Shigeos lips as he pads over to his brother to pat his head and wish him goodnight. It hurt to lift his arm.