Jas No, not studying for the exam: writing Zemyx that is more productive. * W *
Title: bleed it out
Fandom: Kingdom Hearts
Torque: Zexion / Demyx Prompt
: 027. parents.
Rating: R , I suppose. Dunno if there disrupts the blood, I think it's ok. xD
"Psychology is not an exact science: on the contrary, according to some opinions, would not even have the right to be called such, since the fundamental flaw of the requirement to be. It is not possible to conduct experiments on a human mind works, because the medicine has not yet arrived at such a level of omniscience: psychology is a set of assumptions, theories, metaphors that scientists have used to label certain human behaviors. Psychology is not tangible, because no two brains work the same, same way because it is impossible to formulate universal laws that amount without preserving the uniqueness of the individual who is so much to settle. Psychology is not rational, because the studies on brain mechanisms of the animals, or even the men themselves, not sufficient to explain all action: some modes of action are not understood, and theories based on mental illness or traumatic experiences are bruises only castles in the air.
Self-injury, therefore, is not a psychological disorder: it is not irrational, it is not a situation of subordination, is not necessarily caused by a previous shock. Indeed, it is the opposite: self-injury and control is a complex of superiority, is power. Self-injury is to have the opportunity to decide their own future, to find a balance between life and death, to have the most complete mastery of their life processes: one is a science. Not a question of fit of madness, or crisis of depression is the result of meticulous calculations and a mathematical precision, medical expertise and chemical reactions. Where to cut, how much pressure to slide the blade on the skin, how long to wait because the wound heals, how to slow down blood clotting, and even with that intensity respond to the neurotransmitters, not is madness, is the pursuit of knowledge to finally have something that you can be fully holders.
is escape from reality, but also mediating between body and mind is absolute megalomania. "
According to psychology professor, writing was the best way to clear your mind, according to him, was nothing more than a waste of time. He filled notebooks and personal notebooks in five years of high school, and had learned that, in this way, the frustration did not go away at all: indeed, all those thoughts of the medley served only to make his language more selective than already was, earning criticism from critical professors, who thought his approach to matters too pedantic.
The main problem was that although the human mind fascinates him beyond measure, his office had left him not a little disappointed: no certainties, no solid foundations, no nothing. Changing school speech was totally out: his parents are already complaining about only because of its existence, such a request would have been a real suicide - not that there had never thought about, much to the transfer request as suicide.
In any case, it would not have served a lot: no matter really interested him, and then attend a school or the other would have made no difference. At the very least, the expectations of student performance were not pretentious, and this certainly could not complain: the highest marks without the slightest mental effort was not a thing to everyone, and this was selfishly proud; be complimented on its own, however, was not enough at all. Neither the father is too busy to spend the night out in search of a girl from a little bump in price, yes and no coming home twice a month, or the mother too drunk even to recognize it would never have dreamed of giving him a pat on the shoulder or be happy for him: the only way of salvation to feel welcomed, even if only for a tiny moment, it was hidden under the bed, in a wooden box that his parents had gave almost thirteen years before.
"Zexyyyy! "A tearful voice made her way down the corridor until you come to his ears, making him turn up their nose to hear the odious and now abused nickname.
A few seconds later, the owner of the voice was jumping around, the footsteps of his improbable ballet moved by what looked like a mixture of excitement and anxiety. Demyx was the person closest to the definition of friend that Zexion had ever had: nevertheless, he preferred to call it a acquaintance against whom he had a limit of endurance too high. They had known for more than five years, and no one could explain how their relationship would last for so long, given the incompatibility gene.
To cite a few examples, Zexion barely touched and sixty meters in height, Demyx exceeded a few centimeters above the six feet and the hair were the first of a pale color, which looked like an almost opaque indigo, styled so dull and disorganized to the point where the fringe covering half his face almost entirely, while the other seemed to reflect its own light, blond as wheat and combed hair in a mullet that could be described as a typical '80s rock star, with lots of gel on top to ensure that assume the effect of anti-gravity . Eyes the lowest had a dark shade of blue so dark as to seem dull, as the highest were clear, very clear, a blue-green darted left and right continuously. Not to mention that if Zexion's objective is to quickly get out of high school trying to forge friendships not possible, Demyx was known from about 90% of the students and had not the slightest intention of having to even think that sooner or then the free ride and fame would be over. In short, they lived for years and light years apart.
"What is it? "Zexion muttered, once sure that the other was close enough to feel that he should not distract attention from the books stored in the cabinet, the apparent search only knew what the sky.
"disaster is a disaster! "You reach the blond, shaking and waving a wad of paper from which pieces of paper kept falling. "I have no idea what to ask for verification in the Gainsborough! "
'Proof from chapter six to nine," snorted the lowest closing the cabinet and marching toward the class.
"Zexyy not do that! "Demyx ran after him, rummaging in the interim between the stack of notes and looking for those matching chapters. "Give me a hand, I'll never learn everything for the third hour! At least tell me who he was-Eibl Eibl-EIBS-Heck, the guy's chapter seven! "
'Studying Eibl-Eibesfeldt you do not need to take enough," said Zexion presumptuous, coming into class. "Maybe it would be useful to study the past, instead of going to your idiotissimi feasts. "
" Ouch, "hissed the other, imitating offended and whining to do with an arrow. "Your coldness hurt me, Zexy! "
" Eibl-Eibesfeldt is the founder of human ethology, and most of his study focuses on the innate human behavior, hence also his theory about aggression, "the mechanical and indifferent tone of voice he paused a few seconds after Zexion had taken place. "You sit down, or should I explain all four chapters while you stare like an idiot? "His
was pure and simple selfishness, was repeated to himself as he explained the lesson to another. was only a matter of proving that he knew more of him was not his intention to do a favor Demyx.
Returning home after a day of school was never an exciting experience: two cases were, or would be able to get to your room without being noticed, or would make eye of his mother, lying on the couch and fix some absurd soap opera, and having to undergo any kind of insult for various reasons. Reaching the room was surprisingly an easier than expected, since the mother seemed really too busy to whine, handkerchief in hand, for the premature death of one of the protagonists: the funny thing was that if only he had looked at a second round, he really had a reason to cry, without needing to take refuge in television.
throwing the strap on the bed, dropped on the desk chair with a sigh: the role of class in Gainsborough were always terribly simple, and was convinced that even an idiot like Demyx would be able, once again, to snatch a pass. Not that it mattered to him, indeed, to tell the truth terribly irritated him the way to make the blond, who praised whenever her grade point average exceeds the half past six, when the only reason his grades were so low was that he preferred to pursue the philosophy fancazzismo life rather than even think of opening a book. But these were not his business for nothing. So instead of having to study methods to problems of others, would have done better to deal with serious matters, such as one of the stupid psychological research which was delivered within three weeks if he wanted to earn at least a decent rating in the assessment of year-end: Ironically, it was a psychology of materials which had the least whisk to earn his nine, for heaven's sake, the votes of the checks were high, as well as those of questions, but the Gainsborough claimed that participates in those silly games on mutual trust, which was not his forte at all, and thus to have to raise the vote had always been forced to bring insights that, in the end, were not even correct and probably only serves as a stop-gates.
year had nothing to lose, so I might as well collect all the notes and say what they really thought: picking up loose papers on your desk, reorganized the last things he had written. Name in a corner, he began to write in beautiful handwriting: psychology is not an exact science .
"Pray," he began pacando, locking the front door and exiting the driveway. "What are you doing here? "
'move to get you, no? "Smiled the radiant blonde who was placed in front, with one eye while trying to see someone from behind the windows. It had never entered the house of Zexion, nor had he met the parents: he was curious, terribly curious, but had never done anything to force the other to invite him to his house, knowing that would never give in or to their wiles, nor-dog eyes. "My brother left me the bike would be a shame not to take advantage! "The lowest
glanced at half parked in the driveway, visibly annoyed. "Oh no, I do not climb on that thing. "
" Oh yes there salts, princess! "Demyx laughed, passing the helmet. "Do not make a fuss, I do not care if you will ruin the bunch! "
A few steps away from the bike, however, did not respond and, reluctantly, put on his helmet, taking the notes under his arm, which did not escape the gaze of the other meddlers, who wasted no time asking what they were.
'my business, I suppose, "Zexion muttered, rising awkwardly behind Demyx.
" The search for year-end, right? "Asked the blonde, setting in motion. "On what this year? "
" Nothing in particular, "was forced to wince when, on the contraption, Demyx is flung himself at full speed on the road. "Slow down, idiot, slow down! "
" Seriously? I just started! "Cried another, laughing. "Hold tight, Zexy! "And
Zexion did not need to repeat twice, folded his arms in the life of the highest, and shook so much that even the strong wrists hurt him. But the case certainly was not the breakneck speed at which they were going.
"You. Sei. A complete. Moron. "Zexion hissed, once inside the car: we just missed that you kneel on the ground to kiss the tarmac.
"Do not say bad things, Zexy," said the blond, turning the keys between your fingers. "You're just afraid of a little 'speed. "
" Take a curve at 45 miles per hour and dribble a little old lady that surpasses the stripes not is a bit 'speed , Demyx, is an attack. "Muttered taking off his helmet and throwing.
"Sure, sure," he replied nonchalantly, waving his hand. "What we are looking at the first hour? "
'Physical Education," muttered Zexion, stopping at the intersection of the corridor. "So, I leave. "
" But you can not desert today! "Demyx complained, trying to pull him by the sleeve of the sweater.
"I have a medical certificate, can I and how," he said apathetic, escape the grip of the other.
"What will never be so serious! "Whined again, proving particularly tough. In five years of high school, he had never seen the gym even once, and certainly was not the fact of seeing him jumping another lesson to change his life: he had probably just woken up a little 'nosy as usual.
Affairs mine, "Zexion said curtly, giving him abruptly away and going to the library. "Who are you to decide what is serious and what is not? "
" Zexy? Wait, did you hurt?! "He shouted after the blond, but got no response.
return home that day, had taken a massive dose of self-control: Demyx had continued to insist to offer you a ride on his evil half, and he had to spend at least half an hour to deny the offer. The blond was literally dying with curiosity to enter his house, and it was obvious: it made him nervous beyond belief, because he had not the slightest intention of doing so closer to his home more than he already did. The weirdest thing was that in a couple of months, passed the examinations, neither of them would definitely see again, so why this indiscretion against his phantom was tick right now?
does not help things at all into the house and be greeted by his mother drunk who had launched free on a series of insults that were constantly late, do not ever interested in household chores, and this house is not a hotel , when in fact the only response to that statement was that the house was not really a hotel, it seemed much more a mental health center. In the end, the best way to get out of it clean was not paying attention, because the few times he had the nerve to answer it had caught a beer bottle that had been shattered, respectively, the first time on the arm, and second head.
He slammed the bedroom door, and receiving locked for security: a stupid gesture, given that hardly anyone would come looking for him. He had seen almost numbed by so much was upset, and sat at the foot of the bed without much grace, feeling blindly under the mattress, looking for that box that after a couple of seconds, had been found. He opened it without thinking twice, and not just pulled out what he wanted, he threw it on the ground, making their way onto the floor much of what it contained. He pulled up the sleeve of her sweater, twisting the fingers of his right hand the knife: his eyes, the vision was cathartic, to say the least. Rows on rows that run through the arm, some red, others white enough to be confused with the pale skin, all drawn with meticulous precision: there were dozens, hundreds maybe it was an exaggeration, but reminded all, without any exception. It was not the work of a madman, was the work of a scientist: there was nothing to chance, because everything had its place, both in space and time. This time was not different from the others, was only a matter of resuming control of himself, his right hand was trembling, but not agitation, but by the desire to regain her composure. In a gesture calculated, the blade passed over the skin, pushing, not hurt at all. It was a liberation, it was good for the nerves: dropping the knife, he found himself contemplating the blood clot that was gathering on the cut and then from there scroll down in the palm of your hand. It was a lot, not enough to make him pass out, but enough to make him feel light-headed: it was simply p erfetto .
And then the phone began to ring, ruining everything. The left ring, two, three, four times, hoping to stop, but when the sound became too annoying to bear, grabbed the cordless thrown on the pillow of the bed with your other hand and it was decided to respond.
"Hello? "Murmured calmly, feeling even lighter than it actually was.
"Zexy? "Came the excited reply on the other side, who managed to make him immediately return blood to the brain and, simultaneously, to make him freeze. The questions that were running in mind were many, but one that had the first priority was what the hell you want from me now?: Demyx not ever called him at home, in fact, was not even sure of having ever said what his phone number.
"What is it? "He asked impatiently, in a moment of forgetting all the calm he needed to regain.
"Um," there was a pause, as if the guy at the other end of the receiver did not know exactly what to say. Probably had not even considered the idea that he would now respond. "How are you? "
" I'm ... " ... to come and kill you with my hands, dickhead , would be the right answer, right now. Instead his eyes fell on the drops of blood that had stained the floor and what was beginning to congeal on the wrist. "Very well. "
"OK," muttered Demyx nervous, and was so predictable that you could imagine him standing in the hallway in front of the mobile phone, while twisting the phone cord in her hands. "... I just wanted to apologize for today. I did not want to push too hard, or anything else. It was just to do you a favor. "
" If I need a favor, I ask you, Demyx. " Even if it did not happen even in a million years , he added mentally.
"Yes, well, then, 'muttered the confused blond, certainly not expecting such a reply. "I just wanted to tell you that for me today,"
not had time to finish the sentence, Zexion who had hung up. And he was nervous again.
When we say that the weeds never die , could not help but think Zexion ironic, hearing footsteps running dangerously close to its trajectory.
"Zeeexy! "Demyx yelled at him half a meter away, confirming his hypothesis.
"Tell me," answered the direct question, which concerned had not even remotely look like coins.
"Last fall, the line is ..."
"I know," I hung up I .
"I tried to call but gave always busy ..."
"Ah yes," I staccato il filo del telefono . « Amica di mia madre, l’ha tenuta attaccata alla cornetta per ore. »
« E poi avevi il cellulare spento… »
« Colpa mia, » che caso, l’avevo giusto spento . « Batteria scarica. »
« Comunque sia, » riprese Demyx col suo tono raggiante. « Mi dispiace per ieri, ti sei offeso per qualcosa che ho detto? »
« Avrei dovuto? » ribatté l’altro, apatico al punto da sembrare quasi arrogante.
« Sì— cioè, no— insomma, non so, » balbettò perplesso il biondo. « Scusa comunque! »
« Non c’è di ch— » did not have time to finish the sentence, which Demyx, perky back, he had trapped in one of his silly hugs, the result of many lessons and play time idiots psychology. "Demyx, low-cut, I'm dying of heat. "
" Not to be pushy or anything, "said the blonde, looking strangely intelligent. "But it's May, there are twenty-eight degrees, maybe if you get up long sleeves is not likely to seep into a shapeless puddle on the floor. "
" Demyx, "the response was calm, so calm as to be intimidating. "I'm the last five weeks of school, five years have you hate, maybe if you get up from the box and stop not meddle risks that you're rushing down the stairs. "
" Hey, "the blond muttered, almost offended, their hands raised in surrender. "It was a suggestion, sorry," it looked puzzled. "Are you sure you're okay? "
" No I'm not good, "she said, her back to him. "I suffocate you like never before, how can I feel good? "
not speak for the rest of the lessons, and Zexion it was quite relieved.
Demyx was the classic guy who could not hold a grudge: argue with people, sometimes passed to the hands, but once finished the debate was the first to go and apologize. It was a typical teenager who had gone to high school with the idea of being the friend of all and, somehow, he had succeeded: he had his head in the clouds, not interested in being popular (of course, he liked to be, but it was certainly the aim of his life, that), and it was terribly naive. But was not stupid, even if the air dizzy and stupid smile seemed to testify to the contrary: the idiocy of cliché blonde also applied to males, and he was no exception. He had a long tongue and sometimes too snug on certain situations, but he did it for doing good, not idiotic.
knew that Zexion never spoke, he knew that wriggling the privacy argument as if it were leprosy, and he knew he was, at times, since too insistent against it: the problem was that he could also have an obsession for the carpet, and it always had, for five years to that part. If it was love at first sight, the classic high school crush, or simple interest, I do not knew, and had little more than a month to find out.
He had never raised the issue, the important thing was to remain friends, though perhaps it was a one-way relationship, but realize that probably in three months he would no longer even knew who he was disturbed him: see Zexion engaged in consulting brochure on university faculties of town half way across the world made him nervous, and had thought that make or-break , even if the option of severing relations definitely did not like at all, and, after the last three days, the situation increasingly concerned about the cracks .
After a day had been not a single neuron that did not think the rispostacce the morning, and when he tried to apologize just finished classes, Zexion was splashed out of the classroom with a shot that would have never thought to see him do. But luck was on his side, for once, and as soon as he realized that the other had left the notebook on the bench, he had almost thought I heard a choir of angels singing the hallelujah. Not have it repeated twice, and had grabbed the seventh heaven, was released from class quietly, mentally rehearsing the route to his house, having time to lose, having to wait for the person concerned did at least have time to get home and began leafing through the notes, just to give you a quick look; c 'was certainly some law saying that the notes were not bound by the school directly. The
look fast at the end had become more than a half hour sitting on a bench to read and reread pages upon pages of what seemed like a university thesis: indeed, more than a term paper, a speech that was almost discredited two every three sentences, the reliability of psychology. will search for end of the year, was the most sensible answer to which came, without understanding what it really wants us to Zexion with sheets and sheets of deepening sull'autolesionismo. That was a request too indiscreet for him, and probably would never have an answer.
arrived outside the house of the boy, the thing that surprised him most was to hear the screams of a woman who seemed to himself babble nonsense, followed by the sound of something falling to the ground: it was not the right time to intervene, but when he realized, had already rung the bell, and had also felt the sensation of someone walking towards the door. If Demyx thought the noise was enough to impress, had immediately change his mind to open the door when the door was none other than Zexion.
"What is it? "Muttered annoyed, squared.
"You ..." the blond whispered, almost shocked, staring at his right eye. The tuft of hair that usually covers half the face was moved behind the ear, and between breaths Demyx found himself thinking it was the first time in five years that saw both eyes simultaneously. "You're bleeding," he concluded with a whisper, pointing to his eyebrow.
"I know," he said, regardless. "Anything else? "
" I've forgotten to school, "he stammered Demyx, handing him the notebook. "... What have you done? "He added at the end, hesitant.
"I stumbled," said casually, taking his papers.
"stumbled," he repeated incredulously.
"And I bumped into a corner," he concluded, Zexion, before changing the subject. "Did you read? "
" I should have? "Asked the blond, slightly tilting her head to one side, trying to sound conceited.
"No, you should not have. "
" So I have not read, "Demyx replied simply, almost guilty. "Why do not you tell the truth for once? "
" Why is not your affair, "Zexion snapped, his hand ready on the handle and decided to slam the door in his face.
"There is no charge, you know? I could try to give you a but-"
" No, "interrupted the lowest. "I do not need a hand, Demyx, because you know what? It's all beautifully well. "
" Okay, sorry, "the blond murmured. "See you at school. "
" I'm afraid so, "Zexion muttered, slamming the door, the nervousness to the skies.
Never Give Up On The Things That Make You Smile , said some genius once. to Never Give Up things that make you smile : he could not tell if he had done or not. Had been a week since that day, and, of course, they had met at school, but Zexion seemed he had removed from the list of people who lived on planet Earth, and he did not know if dovergli say something, since the response that would come would surely have been a mind your own business: he was worried died of concern, but he felt guilty for having stuck his nose into things that really did not concern him. And if such a thought had crossed even for a second the mind of the blond, meant that the situation was critical: the molested, beat him, rape, had call the CIA, FBI, NASA, give him a bodyguard? She was beginning to rave, and this was worrying.
As if everything else had not already been enough to aggravate all is the fact that they were two days that Zexion did not seem willing to come to school: what happened? Was ill, he had changed schools, had locked in the cellar, had died ? He had not the faintest idea.
had sent him a dozen messages, called him countless times at home or on the phone, and left, respectively, five messages on the answering of phone and ten on the phone. As expected, no response. He had not had the courage to to stay in his house while returning from school, and mentally it was giving the idiot.
Why, why, why, why, why? was the only thing that kept repeating in his head, like a broken record. Why could not he like all his friends who were always silly goose for a jolly night stand? Because he was always thinking about how they felt about the others? Because he had to import the only fucking person who does not even spun smear? Why was losing time to listen to the talk of Gainsborough axioms of communication even when he did not understand what he was saying? Why had not yet entered into force Zexion's house and had not punched on the nose shouting that shit, he was a person and wanted to be treated with a minimum of dignity?
The answer to all questions, almost certainly, it was because he was an idiot.
That would certainly go down in history as the worst night of his life Friday: Friday was undoubtedly the best day of the week, not only because it heralded two days of complete rest, but also because his leaving for the their weekend business conferences and training courses, and he, having the house completely available, usually transformed into the headquarters of some party. That evening, was lying on the couch staring at some empty spot on the invisible wall in the living room is completely incapable of doing anything else: it was Friday, and Zexion did not come to school on Tuesday. He could not tell if he stopped thinking about it, or whether they had stopped to think about the rest of the world so much and think of him as not even notice.
heard the latest CD, Skillet, and kept the volume so high that, initially, was not even sure I heard a knock at the door when he realized that if I was dreaming, got up from the sofa and went unwillingly to open the door, John and Korey Cooper who began to duet in the background.
You like to me with scars on your wrist, you tell me this will be the last night feeling like this.
I Just Came To saygoodbye, Did not want you to see me cry, I'm fine:
But I know it's a lie.
not had much luck in terms of a door, he found himself thinking, while all I really wanted to do was snap the door and open it again a minute later, just to make sure that you are dreaming, something in his head, But he knew not dreaming anything.
Before him, there was Zexion, standing, atrium, wearing a shabby pair of sneakers, jeans equally battered, and a black t-shirt with short sleeves so as to seem faded gray: and, if we simply il fatto di trovarsi Zexion sotto casa sua, oltretutto con dei vestiti che non gli coprivano più del 95% del corpo, sarebbe bastato a farlo impallidire, era niente in confronto al resto. Lo sguardo di Demyx si fissò sul suo braccio sinistro, dove era convinto che, l’ultima volta che lo aveva visto, ci fosse, attaccato al gomito, anche un avambraccio: e, probabilmente, c’era ancora, soltanto che era tutto talmente impiastrato di rosso da essere irriconoscibile.
« OMMIODDIO! » strillò il biondo, in preda al panico. « Zexion, che è successo?! »
« Non urlare, imbecille, » mormorò lui, barcollante. « Sto bene. Dem, mi gira la testa… »
Fece barely have time to finish the sentence that he lacked the balance of everything, and heaven only knew how to grab Demyx had done on the fly without fainting in turn. They were just two things happened: the white t-shirt of the Plain White T's was quickly soaked in red and had become ready for the trash bin, and Zexion had called Dem And he did not know which one was the most serious .
Just open your eyes turned a company harder than expected: it was already hard just to breathe, and the first thing he noticed when he tried to look around all he saw was blurry, as if it were covered by some transparent patina . Maybe it was dead, maybe it was crazy: maybe it was both.
was uncomfortable, but not change position or stand up, or simply to sit, the options were: no longer felt the left side of the body, arm and leg bandaged because awkwardly because something was leaning on. Some look tarnished later, he realized that something was the head of blond, sitting beside the bed, he had used as a pillow.
"Tell me you're not dead, tell me you're not dead," he continued to mumble in his sleep, his voice whining as to seem almost a chant.
just shook his leg, trying to wake him to take it off and off, and for the first time in his life he felt a knot tighten the stomach: guilt, relief, resignation, compassion, was it? He was not able to say it.
The blond muttered something, first stretching and then sitting down, calmly shooting when he noticed that a couple - yes, they were again two , trinkets to himself with a strange dose of joy - of dark eyes staring at him.
"ZEXY! He shouted with all the breath in his body, squeezing him and fiondandoglisi strong enough to make him short of breath.
"Ouch," whispered the other in pain, in a faint voice.
"Sorry," Demyx pulled away immediately, on the one hand raised, but on the other to the brink of tears.
"What have you done? "He added, trying to calm down and untie the knot that had formed in his throat that was anything but avoid him want to cry. "You're stumbling, you have not bumped into anything. What you have done? "
" You saw them, no? It was a rhetorical question, to which the blonde still felt obliged to nod with a nod. Of course I've seen that thought bitterly, it was impossible not to notice them: he had his arm fully, and God only knew how many he had anywhere else.
"What have you done? " Demyx repeated the question, trying to control the tone of voice, but was still more agitated than before.
"It's science, Demyx," Zexion said calmly, convinced the tone, but not enough support to be able to afford to look in his eyes as he spoke. "There is perfected through the experiments. I miscalculated. "
" Why? "Asked the blonde, hysterical, while his eyes were so filled with tears that now began to fall uncontrollably on the sheet.
"Too much heparin and too deep, I suppose. I had given that-"
" Not that! Yelled indignantly. "For those ? "
"Did you read the notes, Demyx," Zexion said quietly, looking like the most natural thing in the world, in his eyes. "Chemical reactions and electrical processes: it is self-control. It works by anti-stress. "
" Anti-stress? Anti-stress? "Said the blond, astonished. "Nail biting is anti-stress, cut his wrists is attempted suicide. "
" I do not know if what you do. Currently, I have never seriously thought of dying. "Lie.
"And what have threatened to do last night? "Demyx asked, his voice rising. "If I had not come here now to those who take your fuckin 'notes, the morgue doctor? "
" If I had not needed, above all, should not have come here, "Zexion muttered, noting the obvious. How could mean bad things like this without blinking an eye? "I'm going, it is not my intention to disturb too long. "
" You just do not you go anywhere! Yelled the other, pointing the finger. "Why do not you understand that if I say something, I could help? "
" Do you think this is what I seek: help? He asked, irritated. "You you do not understand, Demyx, and did not understand anything, because your mother does not is never so drunk that you do not even remember his son, and your father comes home every two weeks just to tell than we have enjoyed to fuck with a fucking twenty that do not even know the name and to tell you to leave Home is the only right thing he has done in his life? "
" And you find that open their arms to be a solution? It seems to me a call for help and good-Buo '
"I groped for psyche, Aquarius," Zexion interrupted. What was now called also for the family name? "I do not think I ever said it was a solution, and I know better than you that it is not. If you really seek help, understanding, or compassion, I will not do any kind of problems to come to school with her arms in plain sight, do not you think? Obviously, if I do, it means that there is a reason. "
" What is it? "Demyx snapped, his nerves on edge. "Shit, Zexion, tell me what it is because I have a hard time finding one! "
" Self. "He repeated. "I never listen when I talk: I want to decide what the hell I do with my life, I want to decide myself what I think is right to do, I decide I-'
The rest of the sentence died in his throat because he was interrupted by a loud snap: Demyx looked at him, bruising his face while wearing his good hand on his cheek that was quickly reddening, a hissing Ouch in a low voice and staring as if he had gone crazy.
"It hurts , Zexion? "Asked the blonde, so full of anger that seemed uscirgli smoke from his ears. "Strange, was not an anti-stress ? "
" It's ... different, "Zexion muttered. "This is idiotic. "
" It's no different, "said Demyx. "What did I do wrong, you get hurt you, what changes? The neurons react the same, identical way. "
" Stop, "his voice had changed, were sharp, brushing almost a panic. "Stop. "
" No, do not stop! "Snapped the blond. "Have you ever thought that the world does not revolve around you? Have you ever thought that people have feelings? Did he ever even touched on the idea that there is someone who cares about fucking for you? "
" I never asked anyone to do so, you should not do it even you. "
" The problem is just that, deficient, "he shouted, exasperated. "I can not do it! You seem so strange? "
" Yes, "Zexion muttered, unable to find a better response.
"So maybe the idiot I am," sighed The blond, standing up. "Call me when you want to leave. I'll take you to the door. "
you ever got to that point in life where all your beliefs fall, and you feel the world falling apart? Zexion we had just arrived, and would rather kill himself instantly, rather than admit it out loud. It had taken years to build his mysterious science, and twenty minutes were enough to drop it in doubt, and it was the fault of the man who was probably the only person who really cared about him: in short, not even himself was so much at heart.
down the stairs, she found herself thinking at home because of Demyx was perpetually on the stereo.
You know it tears me up inside to see the feelings That you hide, hide inside
That empty bottle.
I wish you saw how great You Were, I wish you saw what life Was worth,
You Would not Have to hide your problems.
But the biggest question was, what kind of music obvious moral and listened Demyx? Not that it was bad, for goodness sake, indeed, it was also quite catchy, and hear someone whistling in the background that there was not even bad. Having fallen
what seemed an endless number of stairs - they seemed unaware of why so many, perhaps because he had no desire to return home, perhaps because he did not want to cross again The blond, probably ready for another lecture - came to the kitchen door, where Demyx seemed busy to attend to some strange affair as it moved to the music, and just leaned my head, just as much that would allow him to make a dry and concise sentence and then slink off without further dovergli annoyed.
"De-" she stopped again before starting the sentence, while the other took up singing the chorus.
Run away, run away,
But That will not make it any better.
Run away, run away,
and make tomorrow harder to live Than today.
to himself, had to admit that Demyx sang quite well: she had a beautiful voice. He had a beautiful voice. No wonder he was always the first to come forward to the shows of the year-end, and the next day was always on everyone's lips. He had always asked to go to see him, and he had always said no. It was a shame, not be gone. He began to wonder what would have happened if he had been a "normal" person, and that thought made him uneasy, because he never had any doubt that what they did was right or not, and had only five minutes to know that he could at least feel at peace with himself. Maybe go out with Demyx to do the stupid in the malls would make him feel good anyway. The brain had melted, that nonsense was he thinking?
You say you're looking for happiness, But, When it comes, you run away from it,
you tell yourself you do not deserve it.
There's not much more that i can do, you know the rest is up to you:
until you love yourself, you'll never change.
It was not possible, yet the song seemed to take the piss. He had planned, or had simply put a song at random? The situation was so surreal that he would not know how to answer. Frustration, a lot: it was the only feeling that filled his head, and, whether consciously or not, he slammed his head on the door jamb, in the hope maybe that will break a hole in the head and the anger evaporates.
"Zexion? "The blond called him, turning his head toward him. "What hell are you doing? "
" I go home, "he muttered hastily, moving away from the door.
"I'll walk to the door? "That dumb question, the door was ten feet away, which he needs to go with him?
'Um,' ok, what harm was ? Any fool could be kind to the limits of decency, should not be something so difficult. "Take me home? "
" Excuse me? "Demyx asked in disbelief, convinced that his ears had disconnected for a moment.
"take me home? "He repeated, nervous. Ok, forget it, it was more difficult than he thought.
With a smile on your face so wide that Zexion could not help but wonder how such a thing were humanly possible, the blond did not pray and dragged him to the exit.
Walking down the driveway, Zexion thought of the perfect grade point average ruined when the Gainsborough would have realized that he had not brought any real stupid, and frankly did not care .
"It's our first date? "Demyx asked hopefully, taking him by the arm.
"Forget it! " he replied, laughing, pushing him away. He felt stupid, and incredibly relieved to be: he was satisfied, and the chemical reactions between neurotransmitters and substances strange names idiots had nothing to do precisely nothing.
Self-injury, therefore, is not a psychological disorder: it is not irrational, it is not a situation of subordination, is not necessarily caused by a previous shock. Indeed, it is the opposite: self-injury and control is a complex of superiority, is power. Self-injury is to have the opportunity to decide their own future, to find a balance between life and death, to have the most complete mastery of their life processes: one is a science. Not a question of fit of madness, or crisis of depression is the result of meticulous calculations and a mathematical precision, medical expertise and chemical reactions. Where to cut, how much pressure to slide the blade on the skin, how long to wait because the wound heals, how to slow down blood clotting, and even with that intensity respond to the neurotransmitters, not is madness, is the pursuit of knowledge to finally have something that you can be fully holders.
is escape from reality, but also mediating between body and mind is absolute megalomania. "
According to psychology professor, writing was the best way to clear your mind, according to him, was nothing more than a waste of time. He filled notebooks and personal notebooks in five years of high school, and had learned that, in this way, the frustration did not go away at all: indeed, all those thoughts of the medley served only to make his language more selective than already was, earning criticism from critical professors, who thought his approach to matters too pedantic.
The main problem was that although the human mind fascinates him beyond measure, his office had left him not a little disappointed: no certainties, no solid foundations, no nothing. Changing school speech was totally out: his parents are already complaining about only because of its existence, such a request would have been a real suicide - not that there had never thought about, much to the transfer request as suicide.
In any case, it would not have served a lot: no matter really interested him, and then attend a school or the other would have made no difference. At the very least, the expectations of student performance were not pretentious, and this certainly could not complain: the highest marks without the slightest mental effort was not a thing to everyone, and this was selfishly proud; be complimented on its own, however, was not enough at all. Neither the father is too busy to spend the night out in search of a girl from a little bump in price, yes and no coming home twice a month, or the mother too drunk even to recognize it would never have dreamed of giving him a pat on the shoulder or be happy for him: the only way of salvation to feel welcomed, even if only for a tiny moment, it was hidden under the bed, in a wooden box that his parents had gave almost thirteen years before.
"Zexyyyy! "A tearful voice made her way down the corridor until you come to his ears, making him turn up their nose to hear the odious and now abused nickname.
A few seconds later, the owner of the voice was jumping around, the footsteps of his improbable ballet moved by what looked like a mixture of excitement and anxiety. Demyx was the person closest to the definition of friend that Zexion had ever had: nevertheless, he preferred to call it a acquaintance against whom he had a limit of endurance too high. They had known for more than five years, and no one could explain how their relationship would last for so long, given the incompatibility gene.
To cite a few examples, Zexion barely touched and sixty meters in height, Demyx exceeded a few centimeters above the six feet and the hair were the first of a pale color, which looked like an almost opaque indigo, styled so dull and disorganized to the point where the fringe covering half his face almost entirely, while the other seemed to reflect its own light, blond as wheat and combed hair in a mullet that could be described as a typical '80s rock star, with lots of gel on top to ensure that assume the effect of anti-gravity . Eyes the lowest had a dark shade of blue so dark as to seem dull, as the highest were clear, very clear, a blue-green darted left and right continuously. Not to mention that if Zexion's objective is to quickly get out of high school trying to forge friendships not possible, Demyx was known from about 90% of the students and had not the slightest intention of having to even think that sooner or then the free ride and fame would be over. In short, they lived for years and light years apart.
"What is it? "Zexion muttered, once sure that the other was close enough to feel that he should not distract attention from the books stored in the cabinet, the apparent search only knew what the sky.
"disaster is a disaster! "You reach the blond, shaking and waving a wad of paper from which pieces of paper kept falling. "I have no idea what to ask for verification in the Gainsborough! "
'Proof from chapter six to nine," snorted the lowest closing the cabinet and marching toward the class.
"Zexyy not do that! "Demyx ran after him, rummaging in the interim between the stack of notes and looking for those matching chapters. "Give me a hand, I'll never learn everything for the third hour! At least tell me who he was-Eibl Eibl-EIBS-Heck, the guy's chapter seven! "
'Studying Eibl-Eibesfeldt you do not need to take enough," said Zexion presumptuous, coming into class. "Maybe it would be useful to study the past, instead of going to your idiotissimi feasts. "
" Ouch, "hissed the other, imitating offended and whining to do with an arrow. "Your coldness hurt me, Zexy! "
" Eibl-Eibesfeldt is the founder of human ethology, and most of his study focuses on the innate human behavior, hence also his theory about aggression, "the mechanical and indifferent tone of voice he paused a few seconds after Zexion had taken place. "You sit down, or should I explain all four chapters while you stare like an idiot? "His
was pure and simple selfishness, was repeated to himself as he explained the lesson to another. was only a matter of proving that he knew more of him was not his intention to do a favor Demyx.
Returning home after a day of school was never an exciting experience: two cases were, or would be able to get to your room without being noticed, or would make eye of his mother, lying on the couch and fix some absurd soap opera, and having to undergo any kind of insult for various reasons. Reaching the room was surprisingly an easier than expected, since the mother seemed really too busy to whine, handkerchief in hand, for the premature death of one of the protagonists: the funny thing was that if only he had looked at a second round, he really had a reason to cry, without needing to take refuge in television.
throwing the strap on the bed, dropped on the desk chair with a sigh: the role of class in Gainsborough were always terribly simple, and was convinced that even an idiot like Demyx would be able, once again, to snatch a pass. Not that it mattered to him, indeed, to tell the truth terribly irritated him the way to make the blond, who praised whenever her grade point average exceeds the half past six, when the only reason his grades were so low was that he preferred to pursue the philosophy fancazzismo life rather than even think of opening a book. But these were not his business for nothing. So instead of having to study methods to problems of others, would have done better to deal with serious matters, such as one of the stupid psychological research which was delivered within three weeks if he wanted to earn at least a decent rating in the assessment of year-end: Ironically, it was a psychology of materials which had the least whisk to earn his nine, for heaven's sake, the votes of the checks were high, as well as those of questions, but the Gainsborough claimed that participates in those silly games on mutual trust, which was not his forte at all, and thus to have to raise the vote had always been forced to bring insights that, in the end, were not even correct and probably only serves as a stop-gates.
year had nothing to lose, so I might as well collect all the notes and say what they really thought: picking up loose papers on your desk, reorganized the last things he had written. Name in a corner, he began to write in beautiful handwriting: psychology is not an exact science .
"Pray," he began pacando, locking the front door and exiting the driveway. "What are you doing here? "
'move to get you, no? "Smiled the radiant blonde who was placed in front, with one eye while trying to see someone from behind the windows. It had never entered the house of Zexion, nor had he met the parents: he was curious, terribly curious, but had never done anything to force the other to invite him to his house, knowing that would never give in or to their wiles, nor-dog eyes. "My brother left me the bike would be a shame not to take advantage! "The lowest
glanced at half parked in the driveway, visibly annoyed. "Oh no, I do not climb on that thing. "
" Oh yes there salts, princess! "Demyx laughed, passing the helmet. "Do not make a fuss, I do not care if you will ruin the bunch! "
A few steps away from the bike, however, did not respond and, reluctantly, put on his helmet, taking the notes under his arm, which did not escape the gaze of the other meddlers, who wasted no time asking what they were.
'my business, I suppose, "Zexion muttered, rising awkwardly behind Demyx.
" The search for year-end, right? "Asked the blonde, setting in motion. "On what this year? "
" Nothing in particular, "was forced to wince when, on the contraption, Demyx is flung himself at full speed on the road. "Slow down, idiot, slow down! "
" Seriously? I just started! "Cried another, laughing. "Hold tight, Zexy! "And
Zexion did not need to repeat twice, folded his arms in the life of the highest, and shook so much that even the strong wrists hurt him. But the case certainly was not the breakneck speed at which they were going.
"You. Sei. A complete. Moron. "Zexion hissed, once inside the car: we just missed that you kneel on the ground to kiss the tarmac.
"Do not say bad things, Zexy," said the blond, turning the keys between your fingers. "You're just afraid of a little 'speed. "
" Take a curve at 45 miles per hour and dribble a little old lady that surpasses the stripes not is a bit 'speed , Demyx, is an attack. "Muttered taking off his helmet and throwing.
"Sure, sure," he replied nonchalantly, waving his hand. "What we are looking at the first hour? "
'Physical Education," muttered Zexion, stopping at the intersection of the corridor. "So, I leave. "
" But you can not desert today! "Demyx complained, trying to pull him by the sleeve of the sweater.
"I have a medical certificate, can I and how," he said apathetic, escape the grip of the other.
"What will never be so serious! "Whined again, proving particularly tough. In five years of high school, he had never seen the gym even once, and certainly was not the fact of seeing him jumping another lesson to change his life: he had probably just woken up a little 'nosy as usual.
Affairs mine, "Zexion said curtly, giving him abruptly away and going to the library. "Who are you to decide what is serious and what is not? "
" Zexy? Wait, did you hurt?! "He shouted after the blond, but got no response.
return home that day, had taken a massive dose of self-control: Demyx had continued to insist to offer you a ride on his evil half, and he had to spend at least half an hour to deny the offer. The blond was literally dying with curiosity to enter his house, and it was obvious: it made him nervous beyond belief, because he had not the slightest intention of doing so closer to his home more than he already did. The weirdest thing was that in a couple of months, passed the examinations, neither of them would definitely see again, so why this indiscretion against his phantom was tick right now?
does not help things at all into the house and be greeted by his mother drunk who had launched free on a series of insults that were constantly late, do not ever interested in household chores, and this house is not a hotel , when in fact the only response to that statement was that the house was not really a hotel, it seemed much more a mental health center. In the end, the best way to get out of it clean was not paying attention, because the few times he had the nerve to answer it had caught a beer bottle that had been shattered, respectively, the first time on the arm, and second head.
He slammed the bedroom door, and receiving locked for security: a stupid gesture, given that hardly anyone would come looking for him. He had seen almost numbed by so much was upset, and sat at the foot of the bed without much grace, feeling blindly under the mattress, looking for that box that after a couple of seconds, had been found. He opened it without thinking twice, and not just pulled out what he wanted, he threw it on the ground, making their way onto the floor much of what it contained. He pulled up the sleeve of her sweater, twisting the fingers of his right hand the knife: his eyes, the vision was cathartic, to say the least. Rows on rows that run through the arm, some red, others white enough to be confused with the pale skin, all drawn with meticulous precision: there were dozens, hundreds maybe it was an exaggeration, but reminded all, without any exception. It was not the work of a madman, was the work of a scientist: there was nothing to chance, because everything had its place, both in space and time. This time was not different from the others, was only a matter of resuming control of himself, his right hand was trembling, but not agitation, but by the desire to regain her composure. In a gesture calculated, the blade passed over the skin, pushing, not hurt at all. It was a liberation, it was good for the nerves: dropping the knife, he found himself contemplating the blood clot that was gathering on the cut and then from there scroll down in the palm of your hand. It was a lot, not enough to make him pass out, but enough to make him feel light-headed: it was simply p erfetto .
And then the phone began to ring, ruining everything. The left ring, two, three, four times, hoping to stop, but when the sound became too annoying to bear, grabbed the cordless thrown on the pillow of the bed with your other hand and it was decided to respond.
"Hello? "Murmured calmly, feeling even lighter than it actually was.
"Zexy? "Came the excited reply on the other side, who managed to make him immediately return blood to the brain and, simultaneously, to make him freeze. The questions that were running in mind were many, but one that had the first priority was what the hell you want from me now?: Demyx not ever called him at home, in fact, was not even sure of having ever said what his phone number.
"What is it? "He asked impatiently, in a moment of forgetting all the calm he needed to regain.
"Um," there was a pause, as if the guy at the other end of the receiver did not know exactly what to say. Probably had not even considered the idea that he would now respond. "How are you? "
" I'm ... " ... to come and kill you with my hands, dickhead , would be the right answer, right now. Instead his eyes fell on the drops of blood that had stained the floor and what was beginning to congeal on the wrist. "Very well. "
"OK," muttered Demyx nervous, and was so predictable that you could imagine him standing in the hallway in front of the mobile phone, while twisting the phone cord in her hands. "... I just wanted to apologize for today. I did not want to push too hard, or anything else. It was just to do you a favor. "
" If I need a favor, I ask you, Demyx. " Even if it did not happen even in a million years , he added mentally.
"Yes, well, then, 'muttered the confused blond, certainly not expecting such a reply. "I just wanted to tell you that for me today,"
not had time to finish the sentence, Zexion who had hung up. And he was nervous again.
When we say that the weeds never die , could not help but think Zexion ironic, hearing footsteps running dangerously close to its trajectory.
"Zeeexy! "Demyx yelled at him half a meter away, confirming his hypothesis.
"Tell me," answered the direct question, which concerned had not even remotely look like coins.
"Last fall, the line is ..."
"I know," I hung up I .
"I tried to call but gave always busy ..."
"Ah yes," I staccato il filo del telefono . « Amica di mia madre, l’ha tenuta attaccata alla cornetta per ore. »
« E poi avevi il cellulare spento… »
« Colpa mia, » che caso, l’avevo giusto spento . « Batteria scarica. »
« Comunque sia, » riprese Demyx col suo tono raggiante. « Mi dispiace per ieri, ti sei offeso per qualcosa che ho detto? »
« Avrei dovuto? » ribatté l’altro, apatico al punto da sembrare quasi arrogante.
« Sì— cioè, no— insomma, non so, » balbettò perplesso il biondo. « Scusa comunque! »
« Non c’è di ch— » did not have time to finish the sentence, which Demyx, perky back, he had trapped in one of his silly hugs, the result of many lessons and play time idiots psychology. "Demyx, low-cut, I'm dying of heat. "
" Not to be pushy or anything, "said the blonde, looking strangely intelligent. "But it's May, there are twenty-eight degrees, maybe if you get up long sleeves is not likely to seep into a shapeless puddle on the floor. "
" Demyx, "the response was calm, so calm as to be intimidating. "I'm the last five weeks of school, five years have you hate, maybe if you get up from the box and stop not meddle risks that you're rushing down the stairs. "
" Hey, "the blond muttered, almost offended, their hands raised in surrender. "It was a suggestion, sorry," it looked puzzled. "Are you sure you're okay? "
" No I'm not good, "she said, her back to him. "I suffocate you like never before, how can I feel good? "
not speak for the rest of the lessons, and Zexion it was quite relieved.
Demyx was the classic guy who could not hold a grudge: argue with people, sometimes passed to the hands, but once finished the debate was the first to go and apologize. It was a typical teenager who had gone to high school with the idea of being the friend of all and, somehow, he had succeeded: he had his head in the clouds, not interested in being popular (of course, he liked to be, but it was certainly the aim of his life, that), and it was terribly naive. But was not stupid, even if the air dizzy and stupid smile seemed to testify to the contrary: the idiocy of cliché blonde also applied to males, and he was no exception. He had a long tongue and sometimes too snug on certain situations, but he did it for doing good, not idiotic.
knew that Zexion never spoke, he knew that wriggling the privacy argument as if it were leprosy, and he knew he was, at times, since too insistent against it: the problem was that he could also have an obsession for the carpet, and it always had, for five years to that part. If it was love at first sight, the classic high school crush, or simple interest, I do not knew, and had little more than a month to find out.
He had never raised the issue, the important thing was to remain friends, though perhaps it was a one-way relationship, but realize that probably in three months he would no longer even knew who he was disturbed him: see Zexion engaged in consulting brochure on university faculties of town half way across the world made him nervous, and had thought that make or-break , even if the option of severing relations definitely did not like at all, and, after the last three days, the situation increasingly concerned about the cracks .
After a day had been not a single neuron that did not think the rispostacce the morning, and when he tried to apologize just finished classes, Zexion was splashed out of the classroom with a shot that would have never thought to see him do. But luck was on his side, for once, and as soon as he realized that the other had left the notebook on the bench, he had almost thought I heard a choir of angels singing the hallelujah. Not have it repeated twice, and had grabbed the seventh heaven, was released from class quietly, mentally rehearsing the route to his house, having time to lose, having to wait for the person concerned did at least have time to get home and began leafing through the notes, just to give you a quick look; c 'was certainly some law saying that the notes were not bound by the school directly. The
look fast at the end had become more than a half hour sitting on a bench to read and reread pages upon pages of what seemed like a university thesis: indeed, more than a term paper, a speech that was almost discredited two every three sentences, the reliability of psychology. will search for end of the year, was the most sensible answer to which came, without understanding what it really wants us to Zexion with sheets and sheets of deepening sull'autolesionismo. That was a request too indiscreet for him, and probably would never have an answer.
arrived outside the house of the boy, the thing that surprised him most was to hear the screams of a woman who seemed to himself babble nonsense, followed by the sound of something falling to the ground: it was not the right time to intervene, but when he realized, had already rung the bell, and had also felt the sensation of someone walking towards the door. If Demyx thought the noise was enough to impress, had immediately change his mind to open the door when the door was none other than Zexion.
"What is it? "Muttered annoyed, squared.
"You ..." the blond whispered, almost shocked, staring at his right eye. The tuft of hair that usually covers half the face was moved behind the ear, and between breaths Demyx found himself thinking it was the first time in five years that saw both eyes simultaneously. "You're bleeding," he concluded with a whisper, pointing to his eyebrow.
"I know," he said, regardless. "Anything else? "
" I've forgotten to school, "he stammered Demyx, handing him the notebook. "... What have you done? "He added at the end, hesitant.
"I stumbled," said casually, taking his papers.
"stumbled," he repeated incredulously.
"And I bumped into a corner," he concluded, Zexion, before changing the subject. "Did you read? "
" I should have? "Asked the blond, slightly tilting her head to one side, trying to sound conceited.
"No, you should not have. "
" So I have not read, "Demyx replied simply, almost guilty. "Why do not you tell the truth for once? "
" Why is not your affair, "Zexion snapped, his hand ready on the handle and decided to slam the door in his face.
"There is no charge, you know? I could try to give you a but-"
" No, "interrupted the lowest. "I do not need a hand, Demyx, because you know what? It's all beautifully well. "
" Okay, sorry, "the blond murmured. "See you at school. "
" I'm afraid so, "Zexion muttered, slamming the door, the nervousness to the skies.
Never Give Up On The Things That Make You Smile , said some genius once. to Never Give Up things that make you smile : he could not tell if he had done or not. Had been a week since that day, and, of course, they had met at school, but Zexion seemed he had removed from the list of people who lived on planet Earth, and he did not know if dovergli say something, since the response that would come would surely have been a mind your own business: he was worried died of concern, but he felt guilty for having stuck his nose into things that really did not concern him. And if such a thought had crossed even for a second the mind of the blond, meant that the situation was critical: the molested, beat him, rape, had call the CIA, FBI, NASA, give him a bodyguard? She was beginning to rave, and this was worrying.
As if everything else had not already been enough to aggravate all is the fact that they were two days that Zexion did not seem willing to come to school: what happened? Was ill, he had changed schools, had locked in the cellar, had died ? He had not the faintest idea.
had sent him a dozen messages, called him countless times at home or on the phone, and left, respectively, five messages on the answering of phone and ten on the phone. As expected, no response. He had not had the courage to to stay in his house while returning from school, and mentally it was giving the idiot.
Why, why, why, why, why? was the only thing that kept repeating in his head, like a broken record. Why could not he like all his friends who were always silly goose for a jolly night stand? Because he was always thinking about how they felt about the others? Because he had to import the only fucking person who does not even spun smear? Why was losing time to listen to the talk of Gainsborough axioms of communication even when he did not understand what he was saying? Why had not yet entered into force Zexion's house and had not punched on the nose shouting that shit, he was a person and wanted to be treated with a minimum of dignity?
The answer to all questions, almost certainly, it was because he was an idiot.
That would certainly go down in history as the worst night of his life Friday: Friday was undoubtedly the best day of the week, not only because it heralded two days of complete rest, but also because his leaving for the their weekend business conferences and training courses, and he, having the house completely available, usually transformed into the headquarters of some party. That evening, was lying on the couch staring at some empty spot on the invisible wall in the living room is completely incapable of doing anything else: it was Friday, and Zexion did not come to school on Tuesday. He could not tell if he stopped thinking about it, or whether they had stopped to think about the rest of the world so much and think of him as not even notice.
heard the latest CD, Skillet, and kept the volume so high that, initially, was not even sure I heard a knock at the door when he realized that if I was dreaming, got up from the sofa and went unwillingly to open the door, John and Korey Cooper who began to duet in the background.
You like to me with scars on your wrist, you tell me this will be the last night feeling like this.
I Just Came To saygoodbye, Did not want you to see me cry, I'm fine:
But I know it's a lie.
not had much luck in terms of a door, he found himself thinking, while all I really wanted to do was snap the door and open it again a minute later, just to make sure that you are dreaming, something in his head, But he knew not dreaming anything.
Before him, there was Zexion, standing, atrium, wearing a shabby pair of sneakers, jeans equally battered, and a black t-shirt with short sleeves so as to seem faded gray: and, if we simply il fatto di trovarsi Zexion sotto casa sua, oltretutto con dei vestiti che non gli coprivano più del 95% del corpo, sarebbe bastato a farlo impallidire, era niente in confronto al resto. Lo sguardo di Demyx si fissò sul suo braccio sinistro, dove era convinto che, l’ultima volta che lo aveva visto, ci fosse, attaccato al gomito, anche un avambraccio: e, probabilmente, c’era ancora, soltanto che era tutto talmente impiastrato di rosso da essere irriconoscibile.
« OMMIODDIO! » strillò il biondo, in preda al panico. « Zexion, che è successo?! »
« Non urlare, imbecille, » mormorò lui, barcollante. « Sto bene. Dem, mi gira la testa… »
Fece barely have time to finish the sentence that he lacked the balance of everything, and heaven only knew how to grab Demyx had done on the fly without fainting in turn. They were just two things happened: the white t-shirt of the Plain White T's was quickly soaked in red and had become ready for the trash bin, and Zexion had called Dem And he did not know which one was the most serious .
Just open your eyes turned a company harder than expected: it was already hard just to breathe, and the first thing he noticed when he tried to look around all he saw was blurry, as if it were covered by some transparent patina . Maybe it was dead, maybe it was crazy: maybe it was both.
was uncomfortable, but not change position or stand up, or simply to sit, the options were: no longer felt the left side of the body, arm and leg bandaged because awkwardly because something was leaning on. Some look tarnished later, he realized that something was the head of blond, sitting beside the bed, he had used as a pillow.
"Tell me you're not dead, tell me you're not dead," he continued to mumble in his sleep, his voice whining as to seem almost a chant.
just shook his leg, trying to wake him to take it off and off, and for the first time in his life he felt a knot tighten the stomach: guilt, relief, resignation, compassion, was it? He was not able to say it.
The blond muttered something, first stretching and then sitting down, calmly shooting when he noticed that a couple - yes, they were again two , trinkets to himself with a strange dose of joy - of dark eyes staring at him.
"ZEXY! He shouted with all the breath in his body, squeezing him and fiondandoglisi strong enough to make him short of breath.
"Ouch," whispered the other in pain, in a faint voice.
"Sorry," Demyx pulled away immediately, on the one hand raised, but on the other to the brink of tears.
"What have you done? "He added, trying to calm down and untie the knot that had formed in his throat that was anything but avoid him want to cry. "You're stumbling, you have not bumped into anything. What you have done? "
" You saw them, no? It was a rhetorical question, to which the blonde still felt obliged to nod with a nod. Of course I've seen that thought bitterly, it was impossible not to notice them: he had his arm fully, and God only knew how many he had anywhere else.
"What have you done? " Demyx repeated the question, trying to control the tone of voice, but was still more agitated than before.
"It's science, Demyx," Zexion said calmly, convinced the tone, but not enough support to be able to afford to look in his eyes as he spoke. "There is perfected through the experiments. I miscalculated. "
" Why? "Asked the blonde, hysterical, while his eyes were so filled with tears that now began to fall uncontrollably on the sheet.
"Too much heparin and too deep, I suppose. I had given that-"
" Not that! Yelled indignantly. "For those ? "
"Did you read the notes, Demyx," Zexion said quietly, looking like the most natural thing in the world, in his eyes. "Chemical reactions and electrical processes: it is self-control. It works by anti-stress. "
" Anti-stress? Anti-stress? "Said the blond, astonished. "Nail biting is anti-stress, cut his wrists is attempted suicide. "
" I do not know if what you do. Currently, I have never seriously thought of dying. "Lie.
"And what have threatened to do last night? "Demyx asked, his voice rising. "If I had not come here now to those who take your fuckin 'notes, the morgue doctor? "
" If I had not needed, above all, should not have come here, "Zexion muttered, noting the obvious. How could mean bad things like this without blinking an eye? "I'm going, it is not my intention to disturb too long. "
" You just do not you go anywhere! Yelled the other, pointing the finger. "Why do not you understand that if I say something, I could help? "
" Do you think this is what I seek: help? He asked, irritated. "You you do not understand, Demyx, and did not understand anything, because your mother does not is never so drunk that you do not even remember his son, and your father comes home every two weeks just to tell than we have enjoyed to fuck with a fucking twenty that do not even know the name and to tell you to leave Home is the only right thing he has done in his life? "
" And you find that open their arms to be a solution? It seems to me a call for help and good-Buo '
"I groped for psyche, Aquarius," Zexion interrupted. What was now called also for the family name? "I do not think I ever said it was a solution, and I know better than you that it is not. If you really seek help, understanding, or compassion, I will not do any kind of problems to come to school with her arms in plain sight, do not you think? Obviously, if I do, it means that there is a reason. "
" What is it? "Demyx snapped, his nerves on edge. "Shit, Zexion, tell me what it is because I have a hard time finding one! "
" Self. "He repeated. "I never listen when I talk: I want to decide what the hell I do with my life, I want to decide myself what I think is right to do, I decide I-'
The rest of the sentence died in his throat because he was interrupted by a loud snap: Demyx looked at him, bruising his face while wearing his good hand on his cheek that was quickly reddening, a hissing Ouch in a low voice and staring as if he had gone crazy.
"It hurts , Zexion? "Asked the blonde, so full of anger that seemed uscirgli smoke from his ears. "Strange, was not an anti-stress ? "
" It's ... different, "Zexion muttered. "This is idiotic. "
" It's no different, "said Demyx. "What did I do wrong, you get hurt you, what changes? The neurons react the same, identical way. "
" Stop, "his voice had changed, were sharp, brushing almost a panic. "Stop. "
" No, do not stop! "Snapped the blond. "Have you ever thought that the world does not revolve around you? Have you ever thought that people have feelings? Did he ever even touched on the idea that there is someone who cares about fucking for you? "
" I never asked anyone to do so, you should not do it even you. "
" The problem is just that, deficient, "he shouted, exasperated. "I can not do it! You seem so strange? "
" Yes, "Zexion muttered, unable to find a better response.
"So maybe the idiot I am," sighed The blond, standing up. "Call me when you want to leave. I'll take you to the door. "
you ever got to that point in life where all your beliefs fall, and you feel the world falling apart? Zexion we had just arrived, and would rather kill himself instantly, rather than admit it out loud. It had taken years to build his mysterious science, and twenty minutes were enough to drop it in doubt, and it was the fault of the man who was probably the only person who really cared about him: in short, not even himself was so much at heart.
down the stairs, she found herself thinking at home because of Demyx was perpetually on the stereo.
You know it tears me up inside to see the feelings That you hide, hide inside
That empty bottle.
I wish you saw how great You Were, I wish you saw what life Was worth,
You Would not Have to hide your problems.
But the biggest question was, what kind of music obvious moral and listened Demyx? Not that it was bad, for goodness sake, indeed, it was also quite catchy, and hear someone whistling in the background that there was not even bad. Having fallen
what seemed an endless number of stairs - they seemed unaware of why so many, perhaps because he had no desire to return home, perhaps because he did not want to cross again The blond, probably ready for another lecture - came to the kitchen door, where Demyx seemed busy to attend to some strange affair as it moved to the music, and just leaned my head, just as much that would allow him to make a dry and concise sentence and then slink off without further dovergli annoyed.
"De-" she stopped again before starting the sentence, while the other took up singing the chorus.
Run away, run away,
But That will not make it any better.
Run away, run away,
and make tomorrow harder to live Than today.
to himself, had to admit that Demyx sang quite well: she had a beautiful voice. He had a beautiful voice. No wonder he was always the first to come forward to the shows of the year-end, and the next day was always on everyone's lips. He had always asked to go to see him, and he had always said no. It was a shame, not be gone. He began to wonder what would have happened if he had been a "normal" person, and that thought made him uneasy, because he never had any doubt that what they did was right or not, and had only five minutes to know that he could at least feel at peace with himself. Maybe go out with Demyx to do the stupid in the malls would make him feel good anyway. The brain had melted, that nonsense was he thinking?
You say you're looking for happiness, But, When it comes, you run away from it,
you tell yourself you do not deserve it.
There's not much more that i can do, you know the rest is up to you:
until you love yourself, you'll never change.
It was not possible, yet the song seemed to take the piss. He had planned, or had simply put a song at random? The situation was so surreal that he would not know how to answer. Frustration, a lot: it was the only feeling that filled his head, and, whether consciously or not, he slammed his head on the door jamb, in the hope maybe that will break a hole in the head and the anger evaporates.
"Zexion? "The blond called him, turning his head toward him. "What hell are you doing? "
" I go home, "he muttered hastily, moving away from the door.
"I'll walk to the door? "That dumb question, the door was ten feet away, which he needs to go with him?
'Um,' ok, what harm was ? Any fool could be kind to the limits of decency, should not be something so difficult. "Take me home? "
" Excuse me? "Demyx asked in disbelief, convinced that his ears had disconnected for a moment.
"take me home? "He repeated, nervous. Ok, forget it, it was more difficult than he thought.
With a smile on your face so wide that Zexion could not help but wonder how such a thing were humanly possible, the blond did not pray and dragged him to the exit.
Walking down the driveway, Zexion thought of the perfect grade point average ruined when the Gainsborough would have realized that he had not brought any real stupid, and frankly did not care .
"It's our first date? "Demyx asked hopefully, taking him by the arm.
"Forget it! " he replied, laughing, pushing him away. He felt stupid, and incredibly relieved to be: he was satisfied, and the chemical reactions between neurotransmitters and substances strange names idiots had nothing to do precisely nothing.
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