You let out a soft sigh, letting your head fall onto his shoulder as the both of you sat together on the cold, tiled bathroom floor.

Your boyfriend had a cigarette between the plush of his lips, as he rummaged through his pocket for something. Your eyes were trained on his right arm which was wrapped in bandages. Something in you really wanted to just reach out and hold his hand, but you didn’t. You didn’t dare move a muscle.

He finally found what he was looking for in the pocket of his jacket: a razor blade. Kazuha sets it beside him as he unraveled the bandage tape around his forearm up to his wrist.

With skilled precision, he drags the sharp blade across the thin skin of his wrist. He’s doing it like he’s done it before thousands of times. Like he’s practiced this over and over again until his arm was filled with scars.

His cuts weren’t too deep nor too shallow. They were deep enough for his dark blood to roll down his arm and silently drop onto the floor next to the falling ashes from his cigarette.

You stared at him with an expressionless face. Sometimes you fell like you should say something, do something to stop him from doing this to himself — but you just don’t. You can’t. What were you supposed to say anyway?

“No, Kazuha!! Pretty, pretty please don’t cut yourself!” Or something? That’d be horribly hypocritical of you giving that you do just the same. The only difference is that you don’t cut. Especially not on your wrists. It’s too easy for people to find them out there.

He’s so lucky he wears bandages up his arm all the time, even before he started cutting or dating you. No one suspects a thing.

Your boyfriend continues to silently slit his wrist, not a sound escaping those pretty lips of his. He didn’t even flinch once. Archons, why did he have to be so much better at this than you?

Once he was finished with the cigarette, he took it out of his mouth and handed it to you. You gratefully took it and placed it between your lips as you eagerly rolled up your pant leg.

Grabbing it again, you pressed it against your thigh. God, it burns. But it hurts so good.

There was a burning sensation left but otherwise you felt nothing. You’ve done this multiple times over already, so you’re used to the pain. You even have tons of scars on your legs to prove it.

You stare at the cigarette burn, you really wanted to do it again, but the cigarette was nothing but a bud now. He must be giving it to you when it’s almost done with on purpose…

You never did smoke, yet you burned yourself with cigarette buds. That’s ironic, isn’t it? You must be so lucky to have Kazuha, aren’t you? And you had to admit, you were, but obviously that wasn’t the only reason.

Kazuha’s red irises travel down to your scarred thigh and back up to your face.

Then, he smiles.

It was a weak smile that barely reached his eyes, but it was still there.

You return his smile and place a bandaid on your wound so your pants wouldn’t irritate it and threw the cigarette bud in the trash. Kazuha fully unwrapped the bandage on his hand, giving you a full view of his burnt palm. He’s never told you how it got there and you never knew to ask. You never wanted to ask. You didn’t want to make him uncomfortable when you first started dating by asking that. And now it was a bit too late to ask.

You watched while he wrapped the new, clean bandage tape from the tips of his fingers to his elbow.

You both did this every night like he needed it, like a ritual. From the second he would grab that cigarette box from his drawer you knew what was about to happen.

He said that smoking calms him down, that it makes it easier for him to cut deep like that with his senses dulled. You didn’t mind his smoking.

You knew smoking was bad for your lungs and whatnot, hence why you never tried it. But who were you to stop him? And what else were you supposed to burn yourself with?

He’d light a cigarette and look over at you, you already knew what he was going to say so you followed him into the bathroom without another word.

You both sat with your backs pressed against the door, his blade in one hand and the burning cigarette in the other.

You both usually do everything in silence, but this one day you needed to tell him something. Something that was on your mind.

You opened your mouth to say it, but were quickly silenced when you saw him drop the blade. What is he—

Next thing you knew, he was pulling you in by the shirt collar to kiss him, the cig between his fingers. The kiss was sweet and and gentle, just like him. You could taste the bitterness of the cigarette on his soft lips.

In the heat of the kiss, you could hear him mutter something quietly, almost silently. You could just barely make it out as “I love you.”

You would’ve said it back… but you didn’t.

But you do love Kazuha.

You think you love Kazuha.

Do you love Kazuha?

You have to, right? Otherwise, why are you two still together? It’s not like he’s not making you stay.

“I love you too,” you mutter, not fully meaning your words.

When he pulled away, his eyes were as wide as saucers while he caught his breath. “Y/n, did you… did you just…?”

You nodded, forcing a smile on your face.

He returned you smile and caressed your face gently. He leaned in close to your ear, his lips just barely brushing against your cheek, “I knew you loved me…”

You nodded, doing it without even processing his words completely. You didn’t mean those words, but did he?

Did he truly believe that you loved him?

Come to think of it, you two never exchanged those words before, “I love you.”

“Love” is such a strong word.

You never really thought about if you were in love with Kazuha.

What if you aren’t in love with him? Maybe you could leave… but you’re scared he might do something to himself if you do. He’s never expressed this to you verbally, but every time he cuts himself with such ease like he does every night, it feels like a silent warning, “If you ever try to leave me, I can do something even worse than this.”

And it disturbs you to your core.

Kazuha is so sweet, so kind, and so soft spoken, but you know he’s not mentally okay. Shit, you aren’t either. But he may be even worse than you are.

And if you do leave Kazuha, you’ll have no one. You’ve ghosted your friends since you started dating him, you doubt that they’ll ever trust you again.

So you’re stuck with him.

“Kazuha,” you said, shattering the once suffocating silence.

“Yes, darling?” He asks, he voice slightly raspy like he hasn’t spoken in years.

“Have you ever thought of killing yourself?”

Please say no, you thought hopefully.

Kazuha stares at you silently. First, a look of surprise dawned on his face, it then softened. “Why do you ask?”

“I was just… wondering.”

He looks away from you then smiles, “I do sometimes but… I just thought that was a normal thought everyone had. But I can’t just die right now… because I have you.”

There was a pause.

“But if something happens and you ended up leaving me or something happens to you…” he sighs, “That’s when I would… or at least attempt.”

He looks over at you again, “I just cannot live without you. I’ll literally die if you leave me.”

You face visibly paled.

You didn’t expect him to be so… so blunt about how he felt.

“Did you ask because… because you wanted to—“

“-No! No, of course not! I could never do such a thing…” especially not now after you said all that.

“I wasn’t accusing you, darling, I was just hoping that you wouldn’t say yes.” Grabbing his cigarette, he put it between his lips.

“Because you would never do anything like that to me… Would you, Y/n?”

song: cigarettes out the window — tv girl

this is kinda written lazily and the plot doesn’t really make sense (to me) I just wanted an excuse to write about… sh

CHARACTERS - coffee addicts ⋆.˚ the comedy itself

PROLOGUE - 00#help needed