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Here is where Furina lies, dripping a carmine puddle of her own guilt and grief, only holding on by the mere pitiful thought that, possibly, she could ever be saved.
This distinctive body of hers that the citizens held most dearly in their hearts, that possessed the memories of her infamous fierce demeanor, now sheared off inch by inch by the marking of her blade. Shattered pieces of her former entity scattered by the sheer sin on her pale flesh, bearing the nauseating realization that she doesn’t even know what she truly is, or why she has any reason to go on.
Life for Furina was never about living from the very beginning. It was a disheartening truth that faced her daily; a fact she was extremely aware of. Seeing as every single night for the past 500 centuries, she sat alone at her pearl vanity, cold and weeping, forced to recite those agonizing, teeth blinding, smiles. And somehow, everything still progressively got worse and worse, no matter how hard she tried. Her efforts seemed to be in vain because now, it was only about surviving.
She had rebranded herself into another; one fit to stand out in a crowd of millions for a role she had never wanted to play. She needed to put forth everything she had already achieved for some sort of relief for her people. And yet, “her” people weren’t even hers from the birth of her mortal self. They were the ones who she had to take care of, despite not being fit to rule. Everything she worked so incredibly hard for was torn down in an instant, and she was humiliated for playing the part she had never even desired to act upon.
Thinking back on it, did she ever really own anything? Was what was excused as hers, only meant for the person on the other side of the mirror?
‘Again.’ It spoke. ‘Rip out all of the unclean until it’s all gone. Do it again.’
“Shut up,” Furina whispered with knitted brows, scratching at her fresh wounds. She shoved a fist to her head, trying to shut the thoughts out.
She‘s placed herself on the viciously freezing floor, bleeding out from the wounds that she had intentionally sliced from her skin. A small pool flooded from her arms with a terrorizing pile of dirty practically pouring out of her veins. A trickle of blood dropped to the floor as she shifted to lay on her side, groaning from the pain in her thighs. It was almost excruciatingly painful, her whole body ached horribly, and the scene looked extremely gruesome.
She turned her head over, looking at the piece of wrinkled up paper fallen by her side. She forced her mutilated arm to reach out towards it, gritting her teeth as she pushed through the pain. Her fingertips grazed it, shoving her body closer to it. Her shaky hands grip the edges as she smooths it out, holding it up to her face. Trying to reread the contents in the dark room, her face is blank as she squints.
It was a note. Her old suicide note, to be precise. It was when she was back there, forcing herself to go through everyday even with zero motivation. She glanced at the old blood stains, to the tears engraved into crinkles, and skimmed the messy cursive that filled the page from top to bottom with writings of goodbyes and words she never got to say. A cruel farewell.
It was the lowest point in her life. In which she forces herself to reread time to time when she wants to kill herself again.
Staring in disgust as she finished reading it, she crinkled it up again, tossing it under her bed. She knows she’ll have to find it once again at a later date.
‘Why did it ever get this bad? How did I let this happen again?’ She pondered, biting at her chapped lips and staring at the wall in front of her as tears automatically drifted to her cheeks.
She continued to think, and think, and think, until those tainting thoughts became so unbearably fucking loud. And therefore, she cut, and she cut, and she cut it all out. She cut out all of the thoughts. She cut out the filth from her insides. She cut out all of her dignity, which somehow still exists, just for some idiotic reason of yearning for something other than the feeling of being alone.
Her brain was vacant. It was numb. She had never felt so dead, despite now being the time where she was the most alive.
And just like that, Furina was just a naive young girl again, who thought that she could make it out of there. A stupid girl, who always had makeup streaming down her face in black streaks, who shoved her fingers down her throat after forcing herself to eat, whose head was set on a scale, and an eternity of pessimism. A girl who was constantly fucking dizzy, her days being set in a never ending cycle, who was never able to wear short sleeves, whose shorts stuck to her scarred thighs uncomfortably. The girl who has completely ruined her body with gashes and slits to the point where she was undeniably destroyed.
It was all so sore, so cold, so lonely. Thus, she slashed until it was numb, until it burned, until she couldn’t even feel.
She accepted it.
She accepted the fact that nobody will love her. She accepted that nobody would ever love a girl who couldn’t even love herself. She accepted it, knowing there was no way that she couldn’t prevent herself from ever getting better. Knowing that she was years too late.
So, what’s a few cuts going to do?
How it all began was a mystery. Perhaps, she had accidentally injured herself while cutting fruit, or maybe she had seen it in a magazine or play. In any way, for her to resort to something so drastic in order to feel something else other than the dread of when everything will end, was utterly despicable. How the present came to be is a matter that will stay an unsolvable puzzle forever, considering not even she knows the answer.
‘Again.’ It rang incessantly inside of her.
She shook her head, desperately trying to ignore it, her face tensed, clenching her fists.
While, of course, her life was considerably good at one point. She had a beautiful lover who put aside her repulsive flaws, working through every little disgusting imperfection that had corrupted her. She was held, she was loved, she was comforted, she was distracted, and she actually felt happy. But, unfortunately and inevitably, nothing stays the same forever.
She pretended. She tricked her lover into thinking everything was okay. She lied, and forced herself to go through every little uncomfortable request from her. She smiled through it; she was an actor after all. Yet she was so fucking exhausted of pretending, but she knew she could never stop. She was in too deep; she had set herself up for failure from the start.
The seats were empty. The theater is dark. Why does she keep acting?
“Nobody can ever find out.” Is what she concluded one night after relapsing. After looking at her grimy, marked up body in her full-length mirror. After sobbing until her eyes were so puffy that she couldn’t even see anything properly. After realizing that she will never be loved the way that she had longed for.
Therefore, Furina has given up.
She distracts herself, never confronting the issue, never doing anything to get help, only denying and denying until it comes back to haunt her only when she wept in the late hours of the night. Other methods to divert her mind could be used as well. Sometimes, she used sex as an outlet; another distraction that only made her feel more like shit after. It all made her feel unclean, filthy, and used up. Her body did not feel like her own; it never did. She ended up just letting anyone do whatever they wanted now, most times being too out of it to even register anything.
She needed to cut it all out.
Cool blood dripped down her small arms, a feeling she knew all too well. She stared lifelessly at her wounded limbs, her vision blurring. Her knife was discarded somewhere under her bed after she couldn’t take any more of the pain.
Vaguely, in a small portion in her mind that she tried so hard to lock away, she remembers Arlecchino asking why there were so many scars on her thighs. She remembers when Arlecchino stopped all of her movements and furrowed her eyebrows after she had taken off Furina’s shorts. When Arlecchino had frowned when Furina blamed the stray cat’s she fed on the street, not believing her story even a bit. When Arlecchino had caressed them, for only a few seconds, before moving on.
That memory was extremely evocative. It was permanently engraved into her to remind her of the time she had disappointed the one she loved most.
Since then, she began to distance herself. She let Arlecchino believe that she was truly fine, and that she didn’t need her help. Like those scars were never there. Like they weren’t stuck on her forever.
She would pretend like everything was normal, yet she only really interacted with Arlecchino when the other initiated it. And for sex. Because no one could find out.
That caused Arlecchino to stop visiting as much.
How very low her life has gotten. Sitting in a puddle of her blood, laying on the floor with thousands of irritated gashes on her figure, not even being able to get up and clean the damned mess she created . She reached out towards the ceiling, cold trickling down from her wrists to her shoulder. She looked down at her once beautiful nightgown, which was soaked from a bright sapphire to darkened ruby. She grimaced at the difference in color.
Her mind was sore, her head aching repeatedly as her brain screamed at her for more. She trembled as she sat up, her arms wobbling in pain. She weakly grabbed hold of the bed frame, forcing her legs to cooperate as she got up. Red spilt from her drowning body, the wounds gasping for air, trying to escape from her. She moved unsteadily as she practically collapsed on the plush chair of her vanity, her body shaking as she tried to breathe properly.
She gazed at her reflection, her nails scraping at her open cuts as she just stared uneasily.
“Mirror-me, mirror-me,” Her voice cracked, and in the back of her head, she knew Focalors was long gone.
“Who am I truly?” Her heterochromic irises bore into her reflection, her hands wiping away the streaks of makeup residue on her face. But it smudged. It refused to disappear.
“I am you,” The enigmatic voice replied in a hushed whisper.
“No!” She cried, slamming her fists on the table, the products on her vanity falling to the floor. “I am you!”
“I’m ruined! You’ve ruined me!” She sobbed hysterically, all the thoughts in her head confusing her. She grabbed at her hair, her eyes blown wide as she tried to control herself. She inhaled aggressively, air punching its way through her body too hard, too fast, and she felt her lungs breaking. She couldn’t even control her own body.
It’s always so fucking hard to just breathe.
She looked up again after attempting to calm herself down, her appearance grim as she furrowed her eyebrows. She released her grip slowly, staring at her arms and how they pressed dark against her light hair. She sobbed harder, watching herself fall apart, knowing that she couldn’t even try to stop it. She felt so confused, so hurt, so angry, so depressed; every single negative emotion overflowing through her as it overstimulates her. Grabbing a few tissues from the table, she put pressure on her arm and soaked them full of her blood.
It seems she had been doing that routinely, and the tissues continued to fill her trash can. Until there was no more space left. She continued to bleed until the whole tissue box was emptied.
She thought she was doing well for once! Because Arlecchino had been caring for her by just stopping by for a day, and while she hadn’t relapsed in months. She fully believed that she would never go back to it. That she would never go back to being disgusting. Never going back to having a filthy body. Never going back to being unloved. Going back to pretending. And yet, she always went back to cutting.
Why?
Because it was the only thing she knew.
(And Arlecchino had abandoned her too.)
On some nights, Furina wonders if she hurt Arlecchino so much that she would cause her to leave. Others, she wonders if it really even matters anymore.
She ended up taking off the nightgown, throwing her favorite dress in the trash. She stared at her revolting skinny arms, her sickeningly thin thighs, her defined ribcage, and began to sob even harder. She couldn’t bear to look at herself uncovered anymore. (She also realized that she would never be able to wear something like that ever again.) She stumbled to her closet, throwing clothes onto the floor in a frenzy, finding clothes that concealed herself.
She trudged back to her vanity. The cold burning in her soul hurt more than anyone could ever imagine. It hurt in her arms, it hurt in her thighs, it hurt in her shoulders, it hurt in her head.
Her heartbeat loudly thumped in her chest, the sound pounding into her eardrums, the loss of blood making her feel woozy. She felt like her ribcage had burst open. She felt like the wounds on her would rip off her skin.
Furina felt like she wasn't even real.
Maybe in her next life, she wouldn’t have to feel this way. Maybe, she should’ve died when she had the chance. She prays to a fallen god for better luck next time.
She curled her sore body on the chair, rocking back and forth, hugging her knees to her chest as she stared at her filthy reflection; a reflection full of scars, tears, and crimson. (And of a girl who could only dream of wanting more.)
There was nothing she could do but stare.
“..Are you as helpless as I am?” She asked the mirror, as if there were actually another person behind it. Like it wasn’t just a fucked-up, unappealing, distortion of herself.
It did not reply.
“I don’t wanna be alone,” She quietly sniffled, wrapping her arms around herself as her chin stabbed into her knee. “I don’t want to hurt anymore.”
It stayed silent.
Here is where Furina lies, her limbs painfully bleeding, her fingernails scraping at irritated wounds, practically dying, while she watches it all happen, in the reflection of her dirty vanity mirror.
—
Arlecchino carded her long fingernails through Furina’s newly washed hair, kissing her forehead gently as they cuddled on Furina’s bed. She held her gently, watching Furina stare blankly at nothingness. The curtains are closed, the lights are off, and it’s silent. They lie together lovingly, intertwined in each other's soft embrace. Yet, there was this unspoken silence between them. Arlecchino didn’t want it, but she didn’t know how to begin.
Arlecchino had arrived the next morning to check up on her love and make her breakfast, and as she walked to her bedroom, she felt nervous. And she had every fucking right to be.
The sight she saw before her when she opened the bedroom door left her feeling shocked and horribly guilty. Furina’s hair was greasy and unkempt, her makeup crusted on her cheeks, she looked far too out of it, awake and exhausted, and, for once, she wore her long sleeved shirt and sweatpants. The blankets did not cover her. These factors were odd, considering Furina usually did take care of her appearance.
Furina seemed to be oblivious to the state of her living conditions, only wincing at Arlecchino’s arrival and questioning her presence when Arlecchino spoke up. She seemed to be dissociating so badly that she didn’t even realize that Arlecchino had entered her home, which only worried her more. She had to physically carry Furina out of bed to force her to shower, before getting randomly shooed out by Furina as soon as she tried to undress her.
However, she tried to excuse it. Perhaps, she was being too protective; maybe Furina just needed her space.
But then, walking up to bring her new clothes, she spotted Furina’s small trash can, which had her favorite nightgown aggressively shoved down the full bin. The trash can stood awkwardly by her vanity, and it was an unusual place for her to place it. She furrowed her eyebrows in concern before turning away from it, knocking on the door and delivering the clothes. (It was more so of the door cracking open the slightest bit, with Furina ripping it out of her hands and then slamming the door shut directly after.)
Arlecchino eventually realized that Furina didn’t even bother to wear the clothes she brought to her.
Arlecchino walked downstairs and proceeded to make her a simple breakfast somehow out of the very small concerning amount of ingredients she owned. Furina wobbled downstairs and drowsily sat at the table, Arlecchino placing the plate in front of her. She rubbed her eyes, using her arm to hide the grimace on her face as aroma hit her nose. Realizing that Arlecchino was waiting for her to try it, she smiled and slowly took a bite. Her fingers quivered with her grip on the fork. She tried not to spit it out as she chewed and swallowed, forcefully grinning at her once again.
It wasn’t that the food was poorly made or anything of the sort, but her mind made her believe that she was going to puke if she were to stomach anything; that she didn’t even deserve the luxury of eating. And in the end, she knew that she would throw it all up again.
Arlecchino watched her intently, staring at her like a hawk, nearly glaring as Furina shoved the food down her throat, trying to get this over with as soon as possible. She thanked her, kissing her on the cheek before announcing she needed to use the restroom. Furina walked away quickly.
(Arlecchino seemed to not have heard the loud gags and obnoxious cries that came from inside of the downstairs bathroom. She only stared at her face in concern after she met her upstairs. She decided not to comment.)
Presently, they cuddled together on the large mattress, which was a pleasant moment that they both collectively enjoyed.
So, why did Arlecchino feel so lonely? Like Furina was purposefully avoiding her advances unless she was the one to initiate?
Of course, she knew that Furina was right there in her arms, and yet they felt distant. Like there was a thick barrier between them; that Furina was hiding something. She always knew Furina to be one to hide her feelings to not be a burden to others (which was a greatly concerning aspect of her character, Arlecchino thought.) There was also evidence of things Furina had been doing which were extremely suspicious.
Arlecchino took a deep breath, running her fingers through her hair before softly speaking. “My love, are you sure you have been well?”
Furina took a few moments to process her words, blinking rapidly before looking up at her with wide eyes and her brows furrowed.
“Yes? Why do you ask?” Furina asked quickly, her voice slightly shaky. “Haha, am I seeming that unwell? I swear I’ve been.. taking better care of myself.”
Arlecchino looked at her with pity. In all truth, Furina looked incredibly worse than a simple “unwell”, it was almost laughable. She looked so sick, so fatigued, so exhausted, and so, so, hurt. Her eyes darted around Furina’s face worriedly, a small crease in her brow.
“Furina, we have discussed this many times before. Do not jeopardize our relationship because of an unreasonable lie. I’m well aware of when you are lying to me,” Arlecchino stared at her, the sides of her mouth curling downwards as she stopped stroking her hair. “You have also been distancing yourself from me.”
Furina’s head went blank. All she could feel was the immense fear building up inside of her.
“…Arle? Just what are you saying?” Inhaling heavily, she turned her head to look up at her, afraid.
“I said that I believe you are lying to me, which puts our relationship at risk. You have also been doing it quite a bit, as of recently. I will not be able to trust you if you continue to lie to me. You have cut yourself off from me, and you’re hiding things from me again. My worries are completely logical. Furina, I care about you.” Her comforting hands left Furina’s hair.
How surprising that Furina had fucked everything up once again.
“What are you even talking about?! How dare you accuse me of lying to you! You’re making a huge deal out of nothing!” She immediately got defensive, her voice booming in anger, crossing her arms as she scoots out from her embrace.
Even Furina was surprised by her own outburst, but it was the only way to leave. She needed to get out of there. Now .
Arlecchino’s eyes narrowed, staring at her as she snarled. “I can clearly see that you’re attempting to be discreet with your true emotions, and that foolish mindset of yours only drives you further to try and deceive me into believing that you don’t require my help. Do not start this now, Furina.”
Why does this hurt so much to hear?
She willed away the lump in her throat.
With her voice growing louder by the second, Furina only continued to feel more emotional. “ Excuse me?! Start what, exactly?! I’m not foolish! And you’re not even making sense !” She started to back away, her small figure shaking as she slid off of the bed. Grimacing at her own selfish behavior, she attempted to escape.
“You’re being difficult for no reason, and very irrational. You aren’t even listening to me,” Arlecchino raised her voice, throwing the covers away from her body as she got up after her.
I’m sorry. Please just leave me already.
“Oh, so I’m the one being difficult now?! Are you serious?! I’m tired of you always saying this shit!” Throwing her hands out in exasperation, she turned around to face her with wide eyes.
“Tired of what, exactly? I’m only trying to help the one I love, Furina. I desire to help you. You’re the one pushing me away,” She stood behind Furina, her fists clenched her fists, glaring at her.
I’m so sorry. I love you.
“I don’t want your help! And I don’t need you either!” Furina screamed, turning her heel aggressively and slamming open the bedroom door. Arlecchino’s expression turned into hurt, and it angered her fury further.
Arlecchino grasped her wrist as a reflex, preventing her from leaving. Pain bloomed in her arm immediately, causing Furina to shriek loudly. Ripping her arm out of her tight grip, she started breathing quickly, looking at her sleeve to see if it would start soaking in blood. Arlecchino’s angry demeanor dropped, now seeming puzzled as she watched her arm cautiously. She glanced up at Furina’s face again, her hand faltering.
“ ..Furina?! What’s going on? Are you hurt?” She then took another step towards her, taking Furina’s arm in her tender hands. Freezing immediately as if she had been caught red-handed, Furina could only watch in horror as Arlecchino rolled up her sleeve.
Furina stared. She stared, and she stared, and she just stared. Her breathing picked up to a dangerous pace. Her ears started to ring. Her body wouldn’t move. Silence was the loudest factor as they both stood still. She felt dizzy and lightheaded. She could only feel as it all came crumbling down.
‘No.. No, this isn’t happening! Nobody should’ve found out. This can’t be true. Is this even real? What’s going on?’ Repeated inside of her.
Her body shook.
Processing the sight before her, Arlecchino’s face morphed into confusion, panic, and pity. Her eyelids fluttered as she slowly looked up at her in surprise, an emotion that didn’t exactly fit her, with her hands still gingerly holding her arm.
Exhaling heavily, Arlecchino took her lover’s arm in both of her hands, bringing it closer to her face. She examined the wounds, finding that most were scabbed, while also not properly taken care of. And, seemingly, self-inflicted. Glancing up at her, Arlecchino scanned her face for an answer to the mysterious wounds.
Yet, Furina stood still. Her gaze still glued to her arm. Hyperventilating.
“Furina— ma chéri. Hey, hey, hey, darling. Look at me,” Arlecchino brought her hands to Furina’s face, holding her cheeks gently as she wiped away a stray tear. Her baby looked lifeless.
Lightly pulling Furina’s head over to look her in the eyes, she slid her hand down her cheek, caressing her, trying to calm her down. She watched Furina look up, now maintaining eye contact. Furina was not in her right mind; she was not present. She could not breathe. Arlecchino took her hand, pressing Furina’s palm to her chest, letting her heartbeat calm her down.
“Shh, it’ll be okay. You’ll be okay,” Hushing her, Arlecchino tried her best to maintain calm as well, her heartbeat at a steady pace. Furina’s eyes tried to move back to her damaged arm, but Arlecchino quickly prevented it. “No, no. Look at me. Don’t look there. Only look at me.”
Furina’s lips wobbled as she inhaled with a quiver, more tears accompanying her pale complexion. A sob escaped her throat. They stared into each other’s eyes for a few moments. Arlecchino placed her other hand on her waist.
Then, Arlecchino pulled her in closely, the hand holding Furina’s sliding up to press Furina’s head into her chest, additionally trying to avoid hurting her. She kissed the top of her head with her eyebrows knit, letting Furina cry into her chest, her body wracking with aggressive cries. She placed her chin on the top of her head and closed her eyes.
“It hurts, Arle..” Furina wailed, gripping onto her shirt tighter. Not only did her body hurt, but her mind, and the thing she needed most right now was her. Arlecchino seemed to get the memo.
“I know, baby. I know,” Arlecchino placed kisses on her head, stroking her hair gently as they rocked side to side. “We’ll get you all cleaned up, darling. It won’t hurt anymore. You’re safe now.”
Arlecchino held her until her arms went numb. Until Furina’s tears were dried out, replaced by drowsiness. Until it felt like it was only them in this dreadful world. Until it seemed like time had ceased to exist.
“..I’m sorry,” Furina whispered, pressing her cheek against Arlecchino’s chest.
“No, don’t you dare apologize,” Arlecchino frowned, caressing her head gently. “There is nothing to apologize for.”
“But, Arle, can’t you see? I’m ruined. I’m disgusting, and filthy, and I’m an idiot,” Furina spoke in a soft voice. “I’m all ugly and scarred.”
“Don’t say that about yourself ever again,” Arlecchino spoke abruptly, but her harsh tone was masking her worry. She tried to soften her voice as she held her closer.
“Furina, you’ll always be my precious girl. You are not ugly, nor disgusting. Ma chéri , everything about you is so incredible. Even your scars. You don’t have to hide them from me. I want to see every part of you.”
Lifting her head with her fingertips, Arlecchino placed a soft peck on her check as she held her delicate face in her palms. “Don’t you see? You’re so beautiful.“
Furina’s heartbeat fluttered at the praise, sniffling as she placed her hands on top of Arlecchino’s. “..You’ll still stay with me? Even after seeing what I’m truly like?”
“Oh, my love.. Of course, I would. Who’s made you feel like I wouldn’t?” She pressed forehead against Furina’s for just a moment, shutting her eyes. “I love you, Furina.”
Whining with a pout, Furina nuzzled her face into Arlecchino’s hands, feeling her thumb caress her cheeks. They stay there for a minute, a bittersweet feeling washing over, relishing in each other's presence. Arlecchino then separated herself, looking her in the eyes lovingly, then proceeding to speak quietly.
“Now, allow me to take care of you. Is that okay?” Arlecchino asked with adoring eyes. Furina hesitantly nodded, feeling herself being lifted from the ground and swiftly taken to the bathroom. The lights flicker on, and she’s suddenly placed on the sink counter. She frowns, patiently waiting for Arlecchino to take the necessary supplies to treat her wounds out of the drawers. She frowns as she looks at the ground, eyelashes fluttering as tears build up, gnawing at her lip.
Arlecchino glances at her in worry as she places the kit of medical supplies beside her lover. She opened it swiftly, before turning her body towards Furina. Placing her arms on either side of Furina, she looks her in the eye as she levels with her. “Darling? Would you please take off your shirt?”
Blinking rapidly, Furina meets her eyes, searching hers for a way out. She realized she wouldn’t be able to hide anymore. Letting out a shaky sigh, she reluctantly slipped the shirt over her head, slowly placing it beside her as she tried to cover her bare chest. Arlecchino’s eyes widened, gazing at each individual wound and scar that she had placed on herself. They went from her shoulders, to her forearms, to her wrists, and to her tightened skin around her ribcage. They had scabbed over, clots of blood hardening over skin. Most didn’t seem extremely deep, but there were a few deeper slashes. Arlecchino quietly hummed in acceptance after a few moments, taking both of her hands and holding it in hers.
She gently placed her lips on the back of each hand, tenderly looking up at her. Furina whimpered as she tried not to weep at the amount of love coursing through her.
“I only need to clean them and bandage them, my dear. Is there anywhere else I need to patch you up?” Arlecchino asked softly, caressing her knuckles with her thumbs. “You can be honest with me. I won’t be mad.”
Furina’s bottom lip wobbled as she nodded, droplets streaking down her red cheeks. Arlecchino waited. She continued to wait for her to reveal them, patiently waiting for her love to be ready. Furina looked down at her thighs, and slid her arms out of Arlecchino’s grasp. She began to take off her pants, slipping them over her feet and putting them next to her, creating a clothing pile. Arlecchino examines them closely, grazing her fingertips against the uninjured skin of her thigh. She inhales deeply, not being able to accept the fact that Furina had been hurting alone all this time.
Arlecchino can’t help but blame herself, feeling herself become emotional at the thought of her love hurting herself. She had been too busy, and too petty from the distance that was put upon them. Furina’s eyes flicker to her injured thighs, then to Arlecchino’s sullen face. She ultimately decides to lift up her arms, using her hands to hold Arlecchino’s face gently. Arlecchino put her hands on top of Furina’s quietly, grieving silently. Her fingers quivering the tiniest bit, she kissed Arlecchino’s forehead, attempting to comfort her.
“It’s not your fault,” Furina murmured, letting out a tiny smile as she stared affectionately at her lover. Arlecchino nodded, pecking the palm of her hand before letting go of her.
She turned on the sink, washing her hands before soaking a towel in the water, then pumping soap on top of it. Clasping onto Furina’s arm, she rinses it underwater. She lets the soap sink into the towel, then gingerly places it on Furina’s arms, dabbing lightly around the wounds. She cleans each limb with precision while trying her best to stay careful, wiping away all the red soaked into her flesh while Furina’s expression stayed bittersweet.
She watches her dress her wounds, flinching whenever she reaches a particularly deep gash. This wasn’t something that Furina was used to; she never patched up her own wounds. She felt oddly.. comforted? Loved? She couldn’t really put her finger on it, but it definitely made her feel cared for. Relaxing in Arlecchino’s hold, she wipes away stray tears.
Arlecchino cautiously applied petroleum jelly on her arms and thighs before quickly wrapping gauze around her limbs. She secures it with a small stripe of tape, looking up at Furina with a small smile. She embraced her immediately. “All done, darling. You did so well.”
Furina giggles, hugging her back tightly. The exhaustion finally fell upon them although it was still morning, and Arlecchino promptly carried Furina back to the comfort of her bed. She lay her down gently, getting in the covers next to her. Whispering sweet praises, Arlecchino brushed her hands through her hair, her large arm enveloping Furina’a small figure. Furina matches Arlecchino deep breaths, feeling Arlecchino chest rumble as she begins to speak quietly.
“Please don’t hurt yourself anymore. Tell me when you feel like you have to, I beg. You are never a burden to me, and I will never hesitate to get you the help you require, my angel.”
Furina nodded, allowing herself to feel loved. She decides to speak. “..I can tell you all the things that make me hurt? Everything? Even if I promise you that I will never be properly ‘okay’?”
“I will take away all of your pain, every little thing that haunts that pretty head of yours. You don’t have to be ‘okay’ for me to love you with everything I have, my dear,” The words spill out of Arlecchino’s mouth automatically. Her reassuring voice seemed like it was only meant for Furina to hear.
“..Okay,” Furina genuinely smiled, all of those dark thoughts washed away in an instant. She closed her eyes, snuggling closer as their legs intertwined. Furina knew they had to discuss her eating habits, self-image, and thoughts, but she was okay with that. She wasn’t afraid anymore. She felt safe, too well tangled up in the warm touch of Arlecchino. They were two damaged people, yet they still tried to heal each other. And that, is love.
Maybe, in the end, Furina will be saved.