Word Count: 523

Hinata POV (3rd person)

Hinata wheezed weakly, pulling his knees into his chest. His stomach gurgled awfully, still fighting against his harmful habits. The male was determined not to eat however, hardly noticing the piercing pain in his abdomen as much as he had used to. He yelled in frustration as a certain blond invaded his thoughts again. Seeing as his dorm room didn't have a personal bathroom, he had to grab paper towels from the public restroom before he could release his anger and self-hatred. Returning and making sure to lock his door, Hinata stormed to his closet, grabbing a shiny object and pushing up his oversized sleeves. His eyes watered, but he forced the blade across his sickeningly pale skin, relishing in the feeling it gave him. That was feeling itself, as he was dull to all emotions at this point. Only his blade could make him feel anything at all and he needed to let out everything he harbored for Tsukishima: love, regret, anguish, too many things. He was finally distracted from his thoughts as he felt beads of blood form on his arm where new scars were being made. He hadn't counted his slices, but he could tell from the liquid alone that he had cut many more times than he had the last time. In fact, either the room was growing dim or his vision was. Whatever, he thought glumly, it wasn't like I was going to class today anyway. The fuzzy outline soon turned into darkness, leaving Hinata slumped on the floor.

//Time skip//

Hinata groggily reopened his eyes, fighting past the extreme dizziness and urge to vomit. He slowly raked his gaze across the room, noting with distaste that nothing had changed. His friends at university had all abandoned him as soon as he started growing depressed and now nobody was left to care about him. Besides, he had gone and pushed Tsukishima away all on his own. He stood on his wobbly legs, willing them not to give out. Hinata knew he had to, at the very least, clean up the spreading, scarlet mess across the hardwood flooring. He thanked his past self for grabbing the paper towels beforehand, as he could barely cross his diminutive room without stumbling. As he dabbed away the gooey liquid, he stared at the red staining his fingertips from where they met the saturated material. He glanced back down at the ruby stains on the floor, seeing small sections in which a clear, salty mixture joined it. His hand reached up to his cheek, feeling the tears and combining the blood into the streaks along his face. I can't do this anymore; he decided, there's no point. He glanced down at his blade again, a dreadful idea returning to his mind. I should do it, he convinced himself, it's not like anyone would miss such a loser, just like Kankei said. Tsukki will be better off with me gone for good, not reminding him of the mistake he had dated. His pale hands shook, nearly dropping the metallic liberation. For Tsukki, he reminded himself before he raised the blade.