Work Text:
No one could see them like this. No one could see the weakness. The confusion and pain in wearing someone else’s skin. The marks the feelings left should always remain hidden.
Mizuki was curled up on the floor of their bathroom, letting the tile bruise their skin and the cold embrace them. It was as if making themself as small as possible would make their body cease to exist. Their right hand squeezed a chunk of their stomach hard, trying to ease the aching that echoed deep inside.
The other hand dug their nails into their arm, trying to rid their skin of the ants that crawled beneath it. All throughout their bloodstream, climbing into their stomach, chest, and throat.
The ants. They wanted them gone.
They wanted to pry every last one of them out of their skin forever. Strike themself in the stomach until vomit washed the bugs out through their mouth.
With every thought, the grip of both their hands grew tighter.
The worst part of it was that the feeling could never reach Mizuki’s face. The pounding agony of their brain pulsing against their skull refused to let them cry it out of themself, instead seizing them and forcing them to keep it all within them. The barbed wire around their throat suffocated them, growing tighter and sharper the older to ensure no emotions may escape and no comfort may be found.
Mizuki looked down at themself. As usual, disgusted by what they found. Even more so now that they realized the redness and broken skin around the parts they dug their nails into. As much as they hated it, hurting themself was the only way they knew how to rid them of the ants that nestled within them.
Knowing this, Mizuki slowly twitched themself off the floor and sat on their knees to open the cabinet below the sink. Buried in the back of it was a small pocket knife that Mizuki kept swearing to never use again but kept going back to it and refusing to themself to throw it out.
They carefully unlocked it and stared at the gleam of the silver blade that curved cruelly in their hand. Mizuki released the breath they were holding and cleanly swiped the knife across their forearm. The blood that slathered on the blade and delicately dripped onto the floor was dark, indicating how dehyrated Mizuki was from drinking little water in recent days.
Mizuki carved more crevices into their skin, watching their blood pool in front of their feet and seep into the cracks between the floor tiles. For every stream that flowed out of them, Mizuki imagined the ants shrivelling up from the contact with air without Mizuki’s blood.
It satisfied Mizuki. To suck the insects dry of what they feasted on. To rip their legs that clung to the walls inside and dispose of them. To rid Mizuki’s body of anything they could get out of themself in order to expel the ants.
As more cuts enveloped Mizuki’s skin, a high-pitched ringing could be heard in their ears from the loss of blood. Their heartbeat grew stronger, matching the rhythm of the pounding in their head. They had enough time to kneal over the toilet and throw up the little food they had eaten that day before the blur clouded their vision and they passed out on the bathroom floor.
- The next day –
At the ring of the lunch bell, Rui made his way to the roof to wait for Mizuki as usual. To his mild surprise, she was already there, sitting on a bench and facing the chainlink fence that secured the roof.
“You’re early,” Rui said with a small smile as they sat down beside their friend.
Mizuki did not respond. They were usually quiet and reserved, but Rui could tell something had happened. She wasn’t eating or talking, instead sitting and staring out at the city below with her arms folded over herself. Rui gave them five more minutes before he decided to instigate some form of conversation. “Gonna tell me what’s wrong?”
A sigh, or more of a breath being let go, left Mizuki’s mouth. But not words. They wanted to pull the usual “I’m fine” or “You wouldn’t understand,” but they knew they’d be lying. As would Rui.
Rui would understand better than anyone. Mizuki met him when he identified as nonbinary, but gradually saw him lean toward the masculine side and eventually settle as a transmasc. When Mizuki saw what Rui did, they began to explore their feminine side as well and adopted she/they pronouns. However, she still primarily used they/them to refer to themself because the change was a lot to bear. Rui was there with her through all of it, which is why she felt guilty not being able to tell them the truth.
“It was just… dysphoria,” Mizuki finally let herself say. It was far from just dysphoria. And Rui knew that. The two of them had bonded over how hard their dysphoria hit them, and Mizuki was always there for Rui when he would feel the need to bind too much or while he slept.
Rui knew better than anyone how hard it was to take care of a body that didn’t feel right while balancing the social alienation because of it. (Even though Rui himself couldn’t care less about how people perceived him, it was no doubt lonely before finding Mizuki.) It was impossible to confide in anyone else who had no idea what it was like living in someone else’s skin and never being able to escape the prison of their own flesh.
“Just dysphoria, huh?” the boy mused thoughtfully. Mizuki nodded.
Rui decided not to pry, concluding their friend was not up to talk about it at the moment. Instead, they wrapped their arms around her. Not too tightly, but not gentle in a way that feared Mizuki breaking beneath the embrace as if made of porcelain. It was just warm. Light, and heartfelt.
Even though it did not coax any tears or explanations out of the girl, Rui felt them lean their head against his shoulder and hold themself in his arms tightly, like they had been waiting for that hug for ages. “Thank you,” Mizuki whispered into Rui’s shirt.
“Of course, Mizuki. If you’d like to talk about it any time, I’ll always be here to listen,” Rui assured them as they both pulled apart. Mizuki reacted with the ghost of a smile and the faintest nod they could give.
Rui reached into their bag and pulled out a small metal lunchbox and popped open the lid. Inside was a katsu sandwich cut into two halves, one of which they offered to Mizuki. She tried to decline, but eventually accepted it with Rui insisting she take it.
The rest of lunch drifted through in silence, but replaced the tense and uncomfortable environment with the air leaving a bit of space for hope.