Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction ❯ The Reason ❯ The Reason ( Chapter 1 )
[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]
Don't own Yu-Gi-Oh, although I do own a shrine to Haga on my bedroom wall, 'cause I'm obsessively in love with him, and especially shrimpshipping (the pairing of Haga and Ryuzaki). Warnings: Angst, Shounen-Ai. This is currently a one-shot, but I thought about adding a second chapter explaining what happened a year ago to start Haga's behavior, and it would include a lemon. If any of you out there want me to do the second chapter, just let me know and I'll add it. This was inspired by an English assignment - Character Development: Does your character have any self-destructive habits?
Chapter 1: The Reason
There was a reason he always wore the long-sleeved green shirt with the beetle printed on it. Not becauase it was his favorite, although it was. Not because he thought it looked cute, although it did match his hair. Not because it matched his shoes either. Haga smiled at the mostly blank paper with his Creative Writing assignment written neatly across the top. "Character Development: What do your character's belongings say about him/her? Pick one and elaborate." He trailed his fingers across the soft material, bringing them to rest on the top button. He sighed happily as he removed the familiar piece of clothing; Ryuzaki wouldn't be home for another hour. He had time to play without worrying about his roommate's reaction. Folding the shirt and laying it on the couch beside him, he stared lovingly at the scars running in careful patterns across his arms and chest. He had an hour to work on his design - it wasn't long, but he pulled the box of razors and lighter from the pocket of his shorts anyway. He had placed small squares of duct tape on the corners of each blade left in the small cardboard container in order to protect his fingers when he heated them. Haga began to hum a NightWish tune as he held one of the metal tools inside a high orange flame.
Satisfied with the haphazard sterilization, he dragged the razor in a straight line across the inside of his left arm near the crook of his elbow. He winced at the pain caused by the burning and slicing of his pale skin. Adrenaline washed over him in slow, pleasurable waves, blocking out the worst of the pain. Haga repeated the action three times before taking a piece of gauze soaked with alcohol and wiping away the blood that steadily ran down his arm. He grinned again, admiring the accuracy of the cuts as he turned the blade and started back, completing a nine-squared grid. This time he allowed the blood to flow freely and remove the contamination from his lithe body. He laid back against the couch, riding the adrenaline high and smug in the knowledge that one more part of his physical self was purified. Humming joyfully to himself with his eyes closed, Haga missed the sound of the door opening as Ryuzaki arrived home.
The long-haired brunette only sighed before taking his lover into his arms and gazing into now-open green eyes. He said softly, "Not this again, Haga, I thought you'd found some other way to handle these strange thoughts of yours..." His eyes traveled slowly over the pale form, noting several new grids since he'd last seen Haga without his trademark green shirt. Apparently he wasn't spending enough time with his lover or he wouldn't have been able to lie so easily. Ryuzaki brushed turqouise bangs back and kissed Haga tenderly, pulling the first-aid box from underneath the sofa. There were several first-aid boxes in every room of the tiny apartment just in case Haga ever took the cutting too far. Not that he ever had - he wasn't suicidal, and his cuts were precise, exacted almost obsessively. It didn't take long to clean and bandage the injuries - he'd gotten quite a bit of practice over the last year, and it was only one grid this time. Haga rested against the brunette, picking up his assignment and writing a few sentences in his careful, obsessively neat handwriting. Ryuzaki took the paper when he'd finished, curious as to what had set him off this time, but not understanding the answer.
"There was a reason why the frail, small teen always wore the same outfit, regardless of the weather. Not because his lover had told him for the first time that he loved him while he was wearing that same faded shirt. Not because the shirt defined the only things he still cared about. But the reason didn't matter, because no one saw the boy anymore; They looked right through him."
Chapter 1: The Reason
There was a reason he always wore the long-sleeved green shirt with the beetle printed on it. Not becauase it was his favorite, although it was. Not because he thought it looked cute, although it did match his hair. Not because it matched his shoes either. Haga smiled at the mostly blank paper with his Creative Writing assignment written neatly across the top. "Character Development: What do your character's belongings say about him/her? Pick one and elaborate." He trailed his fingers across the soft material, bringing them to rest on the top button. He sighed happily as he removed the familiar piece of clothing; Ryuzaki wouldn't be home for another hour. He had time to play without worrying about his roommate's reaction. Folding the shirt and laying it on the couch beside him, he stared lovingly at the scars running in careful patterns across his arms and chest. He had an hour to work on his design - it wasn't long, but he pulled the box of razors and lighter from the pocket of his shorts anyway. He had placed small squares of duct tape on the corners of each blade left in the small cardboard container in order to protect his fingers when he heated them. Haga began to hum a NightWish tune as he held one of the metal tools inside a high orange flame.
Satisfied with the haphazard sterilization, he dragged the razor in a straight line across the inside of his left arm near the crook of his elbow. He winced at the pain caused by the burning and slicing of his pale skin. Adrenaline washed over him in slow, pleasurable waves, blocking out the worst of the pain. Haga repeated the action three times before taking a piece of gauze soaked with alcohol and wiping away the blood that steadily ran down his arm. He grinned again, admiring the accuracy of the cuts as he turned the blade and started back, completing a nine-squared grid. This time he allowed the blood to flow freely and remove the contamination from his lithe body. He laid back against the couch, riding the adrenaline high and smug in the knowledge that one more part of his physical self was purified. Humming joyfully to himself with his eyes closed, Haga missed the sound of the door opening as Ryuzaki arrived home.
The long-haired brunette only sighed before taking his lover into his arms and gazing into now-open green eyes. He said softly, "Not this again, Haga, I thought you'd found some other way to handle these strange thoughts of yours..." His eyes traveled slowly over the pale form, noting several new grids since he'd last seen Haga without his trademark green shirt. Apparently he wasn't spending enough time with his lover or he wouldn't have been able to lie so easily. Ryuzaki brushed turqouise bangs back and kissed Haga tenderly, pulling the first-aid box from underneath the sofa. There were several first-aid boxes in every room of the tiny apartment just in case Haga ever took the cutting too far. Not that he ever had - he wasn't suicidal, and his cuts were precise, exacted almost obsessively. It didn't take long to clean and bandage the injuries - he'd gotten quite a bit of practice over the last year, and it was only one grid this time. Haga rested against the brunette, picking up his assignment and writing a few sentences in his careful, obsessively neat handwriting. Ryuzaki took the paper when he'd finished, curious as to what had set him off this time, but not understanding the answer.
"There was a reason why the frail, small teen always wore the same outfit, regardless of the weather. Not because his lover had told him for the first time that he loved him while he was wearing that same faded shirt. Not because the shirt defined the only things he still cared about. But the reason didn't matter, because no one saw the boy anymore; They looked right through him."