Chapter Text
Asano is a boy of many talents. He can play guitar, sing like an angel, he has perfect grades and he is undoubtedly one of the most beautiful boys in the School, girls were constantly fawning and swooning over his fantastic looks, his smooth voice and 'perfect' personality.
He can cope with many things. He can cope with hate, with jealousy and many over things more.
But what he can't cope with is the people he loves betraying him, mixed feelings and emotions, abuse and weapons, failure, fear, bowing down to others, lies, crushed hopes and dreams, loss of loved ones..
And most of all- his Father.
A strong man, quite emotionless but sly and sneaky. He's brilliant at knowing what's happening, he can push you past your limits, he can stop you and make you think in the middle of no where. He's handsome, a trait his son pulled from him. He is powerful and strong, he can pull through anything and everything. He can cause mass-panic and fear upon anybody and everybody with a single, sharp glance with a deadly look in his eyes. He is very willing to turn his own son into a mind-slave to destroy E-Class in both test, mentally, physically and emotionally. He desires perfection, no matter what. Everything has to be perfect, everyone has to be perfect. He has to always be ontop with anybody he's close to or loves. He rarely displays any emotion except from cruelty. He can control people to do anything and everything he wants. He is hardly a Father.
He abuses the people. He abuses his Son. Physically, emotionally and above all, mentally.
And there's nothing no one could ever do about it if they knew.
Asano lay on his bed, sniffling quietly to himself as he hiccuped as tears trickled down his cheeks and onto the mattress. His entire body felt numb, he couldn't move. He couldn't breathe. He felt as if his entire body was stiff, and the walls, everything, was slowly coming together to form a cube as the floor rose, the walls come in closer and closer towards him and the roof kept coming lower and lower to the bed.
His mind was swimming with thoughts of many different things as he tried to pull himself together, which only resulted in more tears and pain.
His neck hurt the most, he rubbed it as he weakly sat up. Still hiccuping from the tearing that had continued on for at least twenty whole minutes or more. He looked around his room drowsily, trying to rise onto his legs as they shook like rattlesnakes, he stared teary eyed at the floor before deciding to sit down again. The pain was unbearable.
He was sick of being used by people. He didn't want this anymore. He couldn't cope with anymore weight on his shoulders any longer.
Things pile on-top of each other, the weight just dragged on more and more.
The grades.
The pain.
The abuse.
His Father.
This had never happened before. Now, anything is an excuse for his Father to hit him, smack him, mentally torture him until he's one hundred percent sure that's he's useless to the World. That nobody would ever truly love him.
Nobody would ever save him from this hell.
He tried to sooth the harsh, red, purple and blue tinted bite marks scattered and covering his sensitive throat as he tried to calm himself down, push his feelings back.
'Don't be weak, Asano. People still have things harder than you do. You're a burden to the world. No matter whatever you do, you won't be perfect enough for him. You're useless. Pathetic.'
The quiet whispers and voices carried on replaying and replaying in his mind as he tried not to succumb to them again.
He has to be on top with every subject, always. He has to have the perfect attitude, posture, smile and grin whenever needed. He must do as he's told. He must keep his grades up, one question wrong and that could be the end of him. No messing around. You're not allowed real friends. You can't have fun, ever. You must always listen to your Father, he's alright right, never wrong. When he says something, you do it. If you do not obey him, there can be consequences to your actions no matter what. You must listen to each and every class with your ears open, don't daydream. He will know.
He's always watching.
Nothing can ever get past him.
Nothing can ever beat him.
That's why he's not going to dare, ever to stand up to him. He wants to save himself from this hell, he want's to run away and never come back.
But he can't. His body is numb, everywhere it's just pain. His mind is full of thoughts of misery, agony, pain, fear, his only 'true' friends are the onces inside his head whenever he slips up or does anything wrong.
He must always win against E-Class. Why? If not, that would be another beating. Day after day as they drag on, some slower than others. It's sometimes a relief to go to School for him, because Asano knows it's safe there.
Or is it?
What he needs to worry about now most though, is how frequently this is going to happen. This time, his father tuck it too far as Asano touched some wounds which started to bleed from that much incredible pain, his hands and legs were quivering as he pathetically limped towards the bathroom, where he would lock himself away to try and patch himself up.
He washed his face with the tap water and stared down at his feet.
Weak.
He turned the tap off and shook his head, then turned towards the shower and scrubbed himself with soap, getting rid of any hint of smell which seemed out of the ordinary. He continued washing for a long time, taking proper care of his wounds as he gently rubbed them with soap to try and tend and sooth the redness for a second or two.
It didn't work.
He gently stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel neatly around his waist, still sniffling quietly to himself as he shuffled towards a cabinet and reached for some pills to stop the thoughts, stop the pain and just relax for a little while. He gently put the first set of pills into his hands, put them in his mouth and swallowed them down with water as fast as he could so he could move onto the other pills if he desperately needed them.
He gently started rubbing cream, anything and everything he could find to stop the hues of red, blue and purple from appearing on his neck and shoulders. He stared at himself in the mirror for a brief second and stared at his reflection.
Useless.
He started preening himself up as much as he could, drying his hair and brushing it for what seemed like hours. He checked himself- or rather his wounds- in the mirror for at least ten whole minutes before deciding to look back at them in the morning and see if they died down.
Thoughts started slowly coming back to his head, as he shook them off and reached for some sleeping pills in the cabinet before downing them down to accompany the rest of the pills.
He slipped on some clothes shakily in his room before feeling drowsy, and tucked himself into his bed.
Trying to find any comfort whatsoever from the never ending battle of decisions, fear and hard life as it seemed to get worse and worse every passing moment of everyday.
He gently closed his eyes as a few lone tears began to trickle down his face onto the soft pillow below him once more.
And there was nothing he could do about it.