Gutter Glitter
He was a glutton for punishment.
He knew it every time his eyes opened. Knew it every time he crawled out of bed, on the floor, and into the bathroom to look in the mirror at himself, at the reflection that stared back at him. He leaned heavily against the sink, panting already in desperate fear and anticipation. Why did he crave it? Why did he reduce himself to this?
Because you deserve it, that dark voice whispered in the back of his mind, and he squeezed his eyes tight to try and block it. But it was inside of him, and nothing could protect him. You deserve each and every licking of pain, every touch of agony… and you love it. You want it. That's why you kept me.
"Get out," he rasped, eyes snapping open and staring at the reflection. It stared back at him, smirking, red eyes glinting at him. He stumbled away from the mirror, falling through the door with a cry. "Get away from me!"
But why? You wanted me… you wanted me to stay with you and remind you of how much you deserve to die, deserve to suffer and burn…
He scrambled away from the reflection, tears already trailing down his pale cheeks, his now dull blond hair fluttering all around him as he made a mad dash back to his bed. As if his covers could protect him, as if reality would chase away his welcomed and hated phantom.
I do it because I love it, the voice whispered, and he sobbed as it felt as if it were right next to his ear. He fought to keep his eyes open, but the shadows seemed to take the shape of his fear. He wasn't safe—not here, not anywhere! Because you love it.
"Stay away from me," he whispered, weakly, even as the burning touch seemed to come from within, stroking him with its threatening, painful seduction. He launched himself from his bed, taking the covers with him.
You can't run from me, my little darling, the voice laughed. It echoed in the recesses of his mind, from deep within, the very roots of himself. Completely, utterly contaminated. Anywhere you go, I'll be there. I'll be there to love you, to kill you, in the way you want. It's why you kept me.
"No," he moaned as he floundered around the room on the floor, trying to find some sort of shelter. "No, no, stay away, not again…"
Stupidly, carelessly, he closed his eyes. In the darkness of his mind, in the hidden corners of it, he saw it. The very embodiment of his fears, his guilt, his everything.
Don't fight me, the thing said, red eyes shimmering madly in the darkness, a hand reaching out for him even as he shrunk away. Don't deny me.
Stay away! He screamed back, wordless, useless.
His darkness enveloped him, stripping him utterly of resistance as well as his clothing. Red garments strewn across the black floor of insanity, leaving him naked in the arms of this thing that meant to devour him, to kill him.
So tragically beautiful you are! His sins all encompassed him, choked him in its gentle, searing embrace. It burned, oh gods it burned, and he cried only harder. Yet tears were burned away, sizzling off his face the moment they left his eyes.
Hands he hated, hands he loved, ghosted over his body but only in his mind. He lay prone on the floor, sobbing silently, clutching his blanket while his mind was assaulted by his own mental depravity in the form of his own best friend, crowned with ruby eyes and an insane smile. Fingers raped him, a tongue molested him, eyes pierced him and left him wishing in vain that he would die before he was subjected to this personal hell again.
This is why you kept me, that voice, so cold and loving, penetrated his mind as something else seemed to penetrate his body, but he was all alone on the floor. Because you deserve this, you know you do.
No one deserves this…
Oh, no one but you, my darling.
He wanted to open his eyes, open them and end this vision of despair and agony. If he could open his eyes, he could get away from those cold hands, away from those piercing eyes that knew his soul so well; that inner demon, so eager to eat him bit by bit until he went insane.
I hate you.
Oh, but I love you, my darling, my dearest, my favorite…
He sobbed into the carpet, pain assaulting his entire being, starting from his backside as if he was being physically raped. Yet he clutched his blanket, whispering, begging.
By the time he finally opened his eyes and dragged himself to bed, Zero was hoarse and drained, barely able to manage throwing himself onto the mattress. A ghost of a touch, cold and possessive, swept down his spine and made him shiver, despite the clothing he wore and the blanket he wrapped around himself.
Good night, favorite, the sins, the guilt, the presence he had willing brought into himself whispered. Zero let out a final sob as what felt like a kiss was pressed to his neck, and his defenses and resistances all but crumbled to ashes, leaving his soul bare to the flogging.
"Good night, X," Zero whispered as he curled up into a ball.