ANGST EVERYWHERE UGH WHY.

Anyways.

I don't even know what happened. I guess this is what happens when you listen to Chasing Pavements six times over and over unintentionally. I dunno, people think that song is overrated, but damn, it hits home for me. Kind of took more of the "yes, I will give up" side of the song. I'm sort of iffy about posting this fanfic...

*TRIGGER WARNING: Implied self-harm, suicide, self-loathing

Just saying. Bluh. Enjoy, I guess? This is sort of weird compared to my other fics, so I don't know...


I should just give up.

Rin sat alone in the classroom, running a tired hand through his hair. His body was hunched over homework that was never going to be finished, fingers spinning a mechanical pencil effortlessly up and over the back of his hand.

I'll never make it.

He sighed and leaned on the back of his chair. What good would completing this stupid assignment do if he knew he was never going to be an exorcist? All of his efforts were in vain. Making friends, getting good grades, pleasing family, living up to those near him…

What's the point? It'll never work.

He knew who he was. He knew what they thought of him. He knew. He knew things he wasn't supposed to know. He knew that with only two months left, he was never going to become an exorcist. He knew that the Grigory was thinking of going ahead and executing him early. He knew that Yukio thought he was a lost cause.

He also knew that ignorance was bliss.

But not knowing could be worse. I could still be that guy who's trying to make friends with the people who downright hate him. But I'm not. I know how they feel.

Tears pricked at his eyes. He was really going to die now, wasn't he? He was really going to die before he'd even really lived. He had so much else to do… so much that he could've done with his life if he hadn't neglected his studies. But that didn't matter now. All he had to do was wait. Wait for them to declare his fate.

Even when I try, I don't fucking succeed. So what's the point?

Yes, what was the point? What was the point in going to cram school and training with Shura? What was the point of trying to make everyone happy? What was the point of trying to stay out of their way? What was the point of living anymore? What was the point of existing? What was the point?

Why me? Why did you save me?

He thought back to that night. Why him? He couldn't do anything useful. He wasn't of use. Hell, they could just leave him in the middle of nowhere and everything would be the same. So why did his father save him? Why did he spare him?

No, I can't think like this. If I try, I can make it…

Stop shitting yourself. You can't do this. You know you can't. You don't have a purpose. Your purpose was to die. Your purpose was to waste this body and soul you possess now. You're nothing. Nothing! So stop trying…

His fingers snapped the plastic pencil in half. Tears clung onto his eyelashes, making the room blurry. He ran a hand across his face, wiping away the tears in the process. He didn't want to cry, but moments later, his face felt wet. His head hurt. He wanted to curl up and bawl. Bawl like nothing mattered.

I get in the way. I'm a failure. I'm the second choice. What the hell am I saying?! I'm not even a fucking second choice! I'm the last choice! I'm the one no one wanted! I don't even know if anybody cares. Hell, they probably don't. Nobody does. Nobody gives a shit about you. Just give up. Give up. Give up already! Dammit!

A heart-wrenching sob tore through the air. Noticing how loud it was, he covered his mouth. But tears still ran down his face like raindrops on the surface of a window, never ending, never ceasing until the time was right. He shook with held-back sobs of pain. Emotional pain. Pain that couldn't be cured with medicine. Not even those anti-depression pills worked. He tried them, but they never worked. Never.

I can't go on like this. I'm a burden. I'm a troublemaker. I know who I am. But why is it so hard? Why? Why can't I be that crazy teenager I was at the beginning of the school year? Why did life just fuck itself up?! Why? Why?! Someone tell me why!

He was slouched again, hands pulling his hair out of frustration. He couldn't keep quiet. He wanted to scream. He wanted to scream at the top of his lungs that he wasn't a threat, that he was human, that he had fucking feelings. But the only things that came out were broken, held back sobs.

I'm human. I'm a fucking human! I am not some tool! I am not some piece of shit people can just gamble on! I am not a demon people can use for target practice! I HAVE FUCKING FEELINGS! I CAN FEEL PAIN, I CAN FEEL SORROW, AND I CAN FEEL REMORSE! WHY CAN'T THEY UNDERSTAND?! Why…?!

He was screaming inside. With each sentence he shouted to himself, his sobs grew louder, louder, and louder still. His emotions gave out like an old, rickety dam breaking into a million pieces, finally letting the trapped water flow freely.

I am nothing. I am useless. I am disposable. This is why they treat me this way. I would act against it, throw a one-man protest, but I know it's true. We all do. It's just so hard to fucking accept! I want to be of use. I want to show them that I'm worth something, but I'll never get the chance now. I'll never get to prove my self-worth…

Because I never had any to begin with. It looks like the only thing I can do is make others happy while I wallow in pain. Nobody cares. Nobody tries to comfort me. Nobody tries to even make contact with me. All I have is… myself…

His sharp teeth pinched the inside of his lip, tearing them and drawing blood. He was alone. He had nobody. And nobody would care, so why not do the deed right now? He didn't stand a chance. All he'd wanted was to prove that he wouldn't let his heritage slow him down, to prove that he was human, but that dream was never fulfilled. Why not die by his own hands, and not by Angel's? Why not?

It would be better if you died, you piece of shit. You're nothing. Stop trying. Stop. Just stop! You know you can't do anything useful, so dying would be the next best thing! You're a demon! You're dangerous! You ARE a threat! Stop denying it! You can't! You can't deny anything anymore! You can't deny that you ARE going to die! You can't deny that one bit! So stop. Just stop. Just STOP.

And with that he curled into the desk, a mess of tears and sadness and angst and a whole bunch of other things that Rin Okumura wasn't supposed to be known for. Tears leaked from his eyes and stained the dark wood. His voice sobbed and gasped and cracked with all the pain he'd kept locked deep inside of him.

Do it yourself! It's the only way! Dammit, DO IT NOW! DO IT NOW WHILE THERE'S NO ONE AROUND. DO IT NOW WHILE YOU'RE ALONE, LIKE YOU ALWAYS WERE. JUST DO IT ALREADY! YOU'RE USELESS! DO IT NOW!


"Rin? Rin, please. Oh God, Rin, wake up! For the love of God, wake up! Dammit!"

His hands were stained with blood. Not just blood, his twin's blood. His voice cracked and dripped with desperation as he shook Rin's body, bloody and bruised. The other students were hoarded back by Shura, who watched with tears daring to fall from her eyes. Shiemi was hysterical, crying and crying and crying. Suguro just stood there, shocked, eyes trained on Rin's self-inflicted wounds. And Yukio, oh God, Yukio. Yukio was desperate and lonely and angry and shocked and just, plain sad.

And the tears. Tears streamed down his face like a waterfall, hitting Rin's pale face. He swore never to cry in front of his brother. Never.