Antidepressant Withdrawal (10)

He knew what would happen if he started cutting himself; if he closed his eyes he could see Will and Karen's disappointed faces, Sophie's sad expression when she learned that Aaron was going to stay in a hospital still haunted him, it made him feel sick. He had never seen Lucifer disappointed and was afraid of knowing how it would look directed at him. Nevertheless, he felt angry about how his life depended a lot on others.

He had lied to his doctor, his friends, even a little girl for their benefit while he just kept suffering in silence. He hadn't even been able to finish all his misery from once and all because of others too. They took the decision for him given that they thought it was the best, claiming that their way of thinking was the ideal one; not considering how he would felt about it, how guilty. How every time he saw their faces he would see clearly how they kept blaming themselves for not being able to do something when it wasn't their fault he had given up.

Tears rolled from his eyes as he grabbed the razor firmly. He knew what would happen, he knew that it wouldn't accomplish anything, he knew. He knew. But he was so angry and so disappointed in himself. His head and stomach hurt like hell and he still wanted to throw up. He felt so tired and lonely. His life was just a rollercoaster of emotions Aaron couldn't control anymore, dark thoughts always pondering in his mind.

Aaron took his pants off and looked at the previous marks he had left before on his legs, ugly pink lines that would always be there, a reminder of how he couldn't stop. He traced one scar and scoffed. He couldn't picture anyone wanting to see, wanting to touch. How would someone love him if he didn't even love himself?

Swallowing, he tried to ignore the itch on his skin and how his fingers flexed, wanting to scratch the scars to see if he could open them with just his nails. He just wanted to feel in control for once, to be the one in charge of his life, of his body. And this helped. The lines he could make could be as perfect as he would like, as he would choose. Besides, he was already ugly, why don't add more?

Pressing the edge against his tight, Aaron swallowed. He didn't make a cut, not yet; he simply wanted to press the thin metal on his tight strongly without actually breaking the razor. Just concentrating on the pain, in how his heart pounded faster on his ears as he started to make a perfectly straight line. He wanted to move it, to make the cut bigger and messier, but refrained to do it. Smiling when he finally took the edge away and saw a trail of blood starting to pour; he grabbed some toilet paper with his left hand to stop it, moving it unnecessarily around, wanting to feel more pain, but avoiding to do a visible mark.

It felt good, even if it was just a simple mark done with a dull razor.

He blew a breath and moved his hand away, feeling how weird his teeth felt after having clenched them too tightly. Aaron sighed; his head didn't hurt too much as the other pain took control. There was a hint of hysteria that wanted to escape him as his eyes watered and he started to sob. It was always the same. But he was weak and stupid; he couldn't refrain from grabbing a damn razor from the trash, he wanted to feel good for a few seconds. To feel control as all his rage was concentrated in one point.

Aaron laughed harshly at how pathetic he was, how disgusting.

Who would want to be around with someone as messed up as me? he thought, pressing again the toilet paper roughly against his cut, wishing that it was the razor instead of his fingers. He wanted more, to punch, to press once again and other; wanted to grab the edge and cut more deeply, but this time slash at the skin. More cuts on his tights, one above the other.

He wondered if he could form a perfect circle with that little thing.

Instead, Aaron decided to press his fingernails on his head with his left hand, crying, wanting to dig his nails into his sides, scratch his face and neck. He wanted to pull his hair out.

He didn't. He liked it when Lucifer stroked his hair, after all.

"Why I always do this, Lucifer?" Aaron whispered brokenly to no one, staring at the razor in his hand. He should throw it. He should. But he was a weak, pathetic human.

Hearing the familiar flutter of wings, Aaron tensed, shutting his eyes tight when Lucifer started to kneel in front of him. He tried to concentrate on his respiration, not possessing the courage to look up, afraid to find a disappointed face. His mind was searching for some excuse to leave the room, to go outside and wait until Lucifer had left. When he realized that he didn't need an excuse to give and was ready to stand up, Lucifer touched his elbow.

He opened his eyes when the gentle touch slowly moved towards his hand, stroking the top of Aaron's palm with his fingertips, grabbing the razor and making it disappear. Lucifer interlaced their fingers and pulled them close to kiss them, ignoring how sweaty his palms were. Aaron flinched slightly but finally looked up, seeing the concern written clearly all over his face.

"Aaron─"

"Don't." He stopped him, knowing that it wouldn't matter what Lucifer said, Aaron would think that was out of pity. "Just don't, please."

Aaron turned away when he felt a hand brushing his cheek. Lucifer talked in a language he couldn't understand as he started to embrace him with his wings. Aaron wanted to push Lucifer away but he just clenched his teeth and closed his eyes, because he wanted to be held too, to feel the other's presence, afraid that he would go and leave him if Aaron moved. He didn't want to lose him, though wouldn't surprise him if he did.

Lucifer cleaned the trail of tears on his cheeks with a napkin, letting a small breath of relief when Aaron's lips curled and he leaned tiredly into him. Aaron couldn't remember when his pants had been put in place but he noticed it when he started to hug Lucifer, almost desperately, as if he were a drowning man trying to stay afloat. Lucifer received all of this and even pressed him closer against him, waiting until Aaron had calmed down and the sobs had subsided.

"When my brothers and I were young we used to create things," Lucifer whispered against his hair. "Michael took the feathers the younger angels shed to made stars more brilliant, naming them after the owner. Raphael loved to learn from Earth but still tried to remodel some mountains and rivers, giving them more life and beauty that not even humans could ever destroy."

"Gabriel and I though? We created life." Aaron could hear Lucifer's smile. "Using our Father's work as a model we made our own animals and plants. Michael thought that Father was going to be angry if it was made known what we had done, but we still did it. It was fun. Blasphemy wasn't in our vocabulary yet."

Aaron sighed as he pulled apart, the coolness of Lucifer's wings managing to calm him. He tried to concentrate on the spark of curiosity he felt instead of the tiredness.

"Did God found out?"

Lucifer smiled and Aaron felt his wings lingering a little more before they retreated too. "Eventually, yes. What do you think Australia is for?"

Aaron scoffed tiredly. "So Australia is like an angelical fridge?"

It startled him when Lucifer started playing with their hands again.

"I don't understand that reference."

He smiled as he kept watching Lucifer; his eyes tired from crying.