home? starring ; maoaru, shiori icilubi, akio-røn.
10/03/25

the kitchen smelled like citrus and steel. the cutting board was still damp from dinner preparations, the scent of peeled oranges mixing with the sharp tang of a knife that had been used one too many times. maoaru had always liked this room. it was the only place in the house that felt warm, the only place where the air didn’t feel thick with the weight of his parents’ judgment.

but tonight, that warmth was gone.

he sat on the tiled floor, his back against the cabinets, one hand pressed against the ruin of his face. the other trembled in his lap, fingers twitching uselessly as if his body was still trying to process what had just happened. blood dripped between his fingers, pooling in the creases of his palm. it was warm—warmer than he thought it would be. warmer than he was.

his head felt like it had been split open, like his skull had caved in from the inside out. the place where his right eye had been was nothing but agony—hot, pulsing, unbearable. the pain had no edges, no peak, no relief. it was everywhere. it was endless.

he had screamed when they did it.

at first, he thought they were joking. his father had gripped his chin too tightly, his mother’s hands had been shaking when she raised the knife—but he still thought, for a moment, that this was some horrible, cruel test. that maybe if he begged, if he apologised enough for just being himself, then they would let go. then they would stop.

but then the blade pressed into the soft flesh just below his eye, and he realized—this was not a test.

the first cut was quick, sharp. the second was worse. his mother’s hands weren’t steady, and when she twisted the knife, the pain ripped through him like fire. his father held him still as he thrashed, his body reacting on instinct, his muscles screaming as loudly as his mouth.

and then—pressure. a horrible, unnatural pulling sensation.

something deep inside him snapped.

he felt it go before he understood what had happened. felt the sudden, sickening emptiness where his eye had been, felt the wet warmth trickling down his cheek and into his mouth. the taste of iron and salt, thick and heavy.

and then they let go.

and then they left him there.

maoaru wasn’t sure how long it had been since then. minutes? hours? the pain made it impossible to think. his breaths were shallow, too quick, but he couldn’t slow them down. his hands were sticky with his own blood, the tiles beneath him slick and red. he could feel himself getting colder, like his body was slowly shutting down, piece by piece.

he wanted to move. he needed to move. but when he tried, his arms felt like they weren’t part of him anymore. his legs wouldn’t listen.

a thought flickered through the haze of pain.

Is this how I die?

it wasn’t dramatic. it wasn’t loud. he had always thought death would be something bigger. that if it ever came for him, it would be with a crash, a scream, an explosion of something that meant something.

but this?

this was just… quiet.

just cold tile beneath his back. just the sound of his own breathing, slowing, uneven. just the feeling of his body sinking into something too deep to crawl out of.

his remaining eye fluttered, hazy, unfocused. the ceiling above him blurred. he thought, for a moment, that he could hear someone’s voice. maybe mushimae's. maybe tentten's. but he was just hallucinating. after all, if he hadn't seen what had happened to them earlier, he probably would've fought alot harder to see them again.

everything was slipping.

his body was sinking, drifting into something too dark, too empty.

he wanted to fight it.

but he didn’t.

and as the last bit of warmth left his fingertips, as the darkness curled around him, maoaru realized—he had never even been given a chance to show how much more he was then just his paraphilias.

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Pub: 10 Mar 2025 19:47 UTC

Edit: 11 Mar 2025 11:59 UTC

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