his eyes drooped, lids drowsing evermore at the ends and blinking softly into black fuzz.  they lingered with the darkness, gently creasing open to let a hot light blind him.  a vague shade of blue weakened itself into his dazed vision, coming and going with each individual blink that pulled him further away from a blessed world of dark.  

all at once, he woke up, eyes wide and cracked red, hot lava breaking across a white gel, stinging stinging stinging until he doused them with skin.  the crust at the corners were scraped away with the same skin, falling and floating somewhere in the air beneath him.  had he really slept long enough for this?  

“ shit…”

this wasn’t the first time.

the moment his elbow shifted, a can knocked itself away, a hollow noise thudding in his drowned ears as it bumped with something else.  how many cans were there?  one, two, three…too many.  they weren’t good for him, and he hated them, acted against them, tried to boycott them; everyone caves, he figured.  everyone was guilty of something, no matter how good.  

goodgoodgoodgood you’re so good, the best!  the good one.  the rest are bad.  scum.

he knows that, he knows better!  he’s smart, the smart one.  

he sighed one of those breathless, worn down puffs that said, “it’s too early (too late?)  for this”.  a few minutes to wake up might’ve been nice, but he didn’t get to call the shots.  he was finished with any reign of control he had over himself; he wanted the gift of control, but he understood that if he didn’t work with the ones he heard, his life would go to waste. he just had to be quiet for once.  

green blinds that hardly blocked the light fluttered at the shivering dawn wind, a mistake.  he had left the window open , sucking the heat out and leaving him in a cold sweat that was uncomfortable and ugly and made him feel like he needed to shower in freezing, purified mountain water to be anywhere close to clean, which was ridiculous.  he was obsessed with hygiene - maybe that was it.

a swig of coca-cola bit his mouth, flat and disgusting but blessed all the same.  his throat was too dry, he thought as he stood himself up.  there had to be a better solution than soda.  a walk in the garden?  a walk in the street, where his inevitable death waited?

good idea!  do it.  go into the street.  die there.  

his feet twitched, yet he stayed.  he almost wanted to.  felt like he had to.  one foot moved, silently across the room as he had been taught before when he was young.  stealth wasn’t his strong suit, but training from the days of old often overtook his personal wishes; just another thing he had to deal with for the time being, he figured.  his arms crossed in internal defiance.  

he waited for the sun to rise as he stood at the window, to bathe him in an air of gentle purity and burning hatred.  hidan only hoped that he could make it that long.