Douma Harem + Douma Oneshots

ʕ•̫͡•ʔI'm fine.ʕ•̫͡•ʔ

A/N: no relationship here, just a bowl of angst soup. Mentions of suicide. Oh yeah, Douma is human here.

I seriously hope you become depressed after reading this. 

He was fine.

Apart from the not sleeping. Aside from the lack of food. Besides the constant loneliness he felt, he was fine.

 Curtains blacked out the sunlight, and bottles were scattered over the floor. Peeling wallpaper adorned the walls of the apartment, an apartment where a boy was laying amidst the trash.

Because that's what he was. A beautiful, but broken, boy.

A child that had grown up to quick. A child that had never felt love, and tried to find it at the bottom of a beer bottle, at the pinprick of the needle.

People like that are the lost ones. The ones that feel incomplete and desperate for something akin to comfort. 

People like that shouldn't be children.

Children shouldn't have to cry every night, and smile every day to hide the cracks in the carefree façade.

But some do. And he was one of the ones that did.

Dear Diary,

I can't breathe anymore. I'm suffocating. It feels like I'm drowning and I can't swim. Let it all end. 

Douma.

Maybe if someone cared, it wouldn't have happened. Maybe if someone talked to him, he would have been fine, like he always said he was. 

Maybe if someone else wanted him to live, the beautiful broken boy wouldn't have swung from the noose in his trashed apartment. 

Dear Diary,

I don't want it anymore. She came today. She told me to smile. Is that what I need to do? Smile?  I thought I smiled enough.

Douma

After he died, he had no funeral. No one knew him. No one ever would. He was buried quietly, without a fuss.

Dear Diary,

I wrote a poem today. I would write it on here, but the page is moving. Why is the page moving? Why is my bottle empty? Why am I still smiling? Why is it raining? Why is sleep so hard to get now? Why is the pill box empty?

Douma

Life moved on. People forgot about the boy on the second floor, they forgot about him. Even his parents forgot him. It was as if he'd never existed.

Dear Diary,

Do you know what a cigarette is? Someone, I think his name was Akaza, gave one to me. I like them. They calm me down. I could do with being calm.

Douma

How would life have been affected had someone known him? Would the beautiful broken boy have still hung himself?

Dear Diary, 

It's been nice knowing you. You're the only who knows my name. Even mother doesn't remember! She called me Taiko today. I hope I'm not forgotten. I hope that someone remembers me. But they won't. It's wishful thinking. Goodbye, diary.

A forgotten man

But he wasn't a man. He'd never grown up to be one. And when he died, he was still a boy, a boy who had been through all the hardships of the world and had no one. 

A beautiful broken boy that swung from a rope one fateful morning, and was buried the next. A forgotten face. A child who'd watched his world fall apart and couldn't do anything.

Goodbye, cruel world.