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he’s sick .
“ shit !”
he can hear kamukura and komaeda outside, kissing and laughing. when dinner comes, he’ll have to watch them be together, watch as kamukura draws his chair beside komaeda, staring across at hinata as if it’s an intervention. as if it’s always been them against him,
alone, always fucking alone.
(because komaeda met them at the same time, and who did he choose?
who would anybody have chosen?)
it makes him feel sick.
“shit, that really fucking hurts-!”
he hates them both. he hates how he loves komaeda who could give less of a shit about him because he’s untalented garbage . he hates how his brother…
well, he hates everything about the person who has stayed by his side his entire life,
especially the fact that kamukura probably wouldn’t miss him if he-
“goddammit, this is so fucking stupid !”
it hurts, but it’s habitual. he doesn’t find it comforting, never will-- but it’s something to do when his world becomes static around him. when he can hardly speak, hardly hear, over the agitated thoughts bouncing in his mind. it’s something to do when all he wants is to be in kamukura and komaeda’s arms, because kamukura and him haven’t really hugged ever …
and komaeda, well, komaeda is komaeda. cuddly, affectionate, but empty. hinata can’t change him; hinata can’t try.
and he feels sick.
he vaguely registers someone knocking at the door. he rolls his sleeves down and drops the scissors, and he knows that kamukura probably heard the subtle clattering sound. hinata says nothing, even when he hears komaeda say, “ahah… hinata-kun? you’ve been in there for a while… i’m worried.”
liar.
the door is locked, but kamukura picks it. he opens it without care, standing in front of komaeda, probably trying to keep him from seeing hinata. he does anyway, and he tries to rush forward. “hinata-kun…! you’re bleeding-”
“komaeda,” hinata hears kamukura say. “leave me with hajime.”
hinata can’t hear komaeda’s response. his mind is too filled with clutter. his mind is too sick.
he hears the door lock again, feels the pressure of it, and also feels kamukura rolling up his sleeve. he isn’t surprised. he doesn’t fight as kamukura looks at the slashes even if he’s ashamed (he’s sure his twin is completely free from marks, from imperfections). in a deadpan voice lacking any softness, kamukura asks, “did you clean these?”
“no.”
kamukura’s lips turn downwards for a split second-- by the time hinata looks, it’s back to clinical neutrality. “you could get an infection. it could potentially kill you.”
“i know that,” hinata snaps, irritated that his brother has to take care of him. “it’s fine. whatever.”
kamukura doesn’t listen, standing up to filter through the medicinal cabinet until he finds a first aid kit. he kneels beside hinata again, carefully cleaning his wounds, not relenting even when hinata flinches, cursing in pain. “fuck, that hurt.”
“self harm as a process itself tends to hurt.” he comments evenly.
“go fuck yourself.”
when he’s finished wrapping a bandage around hinata’s arms, he stares at him. hinata isn’t sure if kamukura expects something-- his brother is known for silently waiting for someone to entertain him-- but hinata is exhausted . he also feels sick, sick with envy, sick with desire, sick with his resentment of kamukura and komaeda. he’s always been sick in the head, too, and he’s sure his brother could provide a diagnosis with that instantly.
he could probably even be hinata’s therapist.
the thought makes him laugh sardonically. kamukura isn’t startled by the sudden noise, and stays silent until the laughter quiets to hiccups. then, he speaks. “is there anything else hurting you?”
“a lot of things, actually.” he can’t help but be bitter.
kamukura sighs. “i’m asking about your physical state, not your emotional one.”
“wow, thanks.” hinata mutters. he hates this. he hates everything. he’s sick. “i’m fine. headache, but it’ll go away if i sleep.”
he is going to sleep after this, hopefully for at least 72 hours.
“it would benefit you to eat.”
“i feel sick, izuru.”
“why?”
hinata throws up his arms, his voice raising, “i don’t fucking know! i don’t know, okay? i…” his voice softens. he feels tears appearing in his eyes, but he’ll be damned before he cries in front of his brother. “i don’t know .”
“it is alright to cry, hajime.” kamukura says, and damn him, because that’s enough to make the tears flow. kamukura doesn’t hug him or touch him, he just sits and watches, speaking quietly, “is there something i need to rectify? did i do something?”
“you n-never do anything wrong.” hinata’s voice breaks and he covers his face with his sleeve, sobbing into the fabric. he hates this. he hates kamukura. he hates komaeda. he hates himself. he’s fucking everything up. he’s ruining his brother’s relationship, all because he just wants either of them to give a shit. he’s not equal. he knows that.
he wishes someone could just say it, instead of letting the fact linger like a parasite.
“that is not an answer.” he sighs when hinata doesn’t reply, switching approaches. “i would like for you to feel better, hajime.” kamukura moves his hand to gently lay in hinata’s hair, his crimson eyes softening into something like sympathy. it makes hinata want to hurt something, but it isn’t like he can hurt himself again. not with his brother’s hawk-like gaze, not with the shame of his actions. and it’s impossible to hurt kamukura. “is there anything i can do?”
leave me alone, he wants to scream, but he knows it would be dishonest. “i don’t know.”
kamukura exhales quietly. “would you like me to stay with you, then?”
hinata’s eyes narrow as he smirks morosely. “isn’t komaeda waiting?”
his brother’s eyebrow raises carefully. it’s a subtle shift in his passive face-- hinata hates its perfection. “is komaeda a problem?”
“no.” hinata immediately says. kamukura just looks at him, and he eventually sighs. “i don’t know, izuru. i’m sorry.”
kamukura looks at him, gently moving his hand through his hair. hinata leans into the touch, and he doesn’t react when hinata starts crying again, this time into his brother’s suit. his sobs are ugly and loud, leaving him breathless and more exhausted than he was before. kamukura, after a few minutes, puts another hand on hinata’s back, saying nothing when he cries harder.
he doesn’t even know why he’s crying.
he shuts his brain off when kamukura says, “i will stay as long as you need. i do not want you to be in pain any longer. whatever i must do to help will be done.”
hinata hiccups again, “i’m so fucking sick, izuru.”
kamukura doesn’t reply.