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It hurt.
It hurt when his father hit him. It hurt when he hit him again. His father had hit him a few times—yes, but never like this.
Toya cowered away from his father as he raised his hand, coming in contact with his skin.
It was a quick, sharp motion. Which stung rather badly.
“Are you so fucking stupid that you can’t even understand the simplest things?” his father roared. “Everything I’ve ever done has been for your sake. For your own good, your own future! And here you are, throwing away everything I’ve done for you!”
His father’s ice cold stare was disappointing. It bore straight into Toya, piercing his heart and shattering what little fight he had left in him.
“I’m sorry,” Toya croaked weakly, hands raised in a futile attempt to protect himself. His father reached out and tore his arms away from his face and pulled him forward.
“Boy, you listen here, and you listen good,” Harumichi said. “You stop your stupid rebellion right this instant. You pick up that violin and practice. You put your hands on those keys and practice. You go and play, right this instant.”
You can’t make me. Toya bit his lip, trembling as his body involuntarily rose.
Stop. He walked into the practice room he hadn’t set foot in for ages.
Please. His hands laid themselves on the keys. His father handed him a score, with a single order.
Play.
Toya obeyed. It was fear that drove him to do so. The song came to him naturally. His fingers danced over the pearly white and inky black keys with ease. And yet every note felt wrong.
It felt so utterly wrong.
His father’s stare bore into his back, silently judging everything. Every mistake, every wrong note. Everything he did wrong.
Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Everything felt wrong.
He stayed, and he practiced. He practiced, and he played. Fingers shifting across strings, fingers hopping across keys. Music flowed through his ears. He had heard these pieces thousands of times. They were all masterfully composed— they were works of art. It pained him how everything felt so different from when he first listened to these pieces. He stayed until his father was satisfied.
By then, it was already late at night. Trudging up the stairs to his room, he collapsed onto his bed.
Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.
Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.
Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.
Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.
Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.
Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.
Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.
Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.
Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.
Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.
Everything was disgustingly wrong.
His mind felt weirdly empty. The bruised parts of his body where he had been hit didn’t even hurt. It was silent— it was peaceful. Toya mustered the strength to pull himself off his bed. Sliding open the door to the balcony, he stepped into the cool air.
The stars were pretty tonight. There were no clouds in sight. Simply the moon and stars, alone in their sea of beautiful darkness. He closed the slider and slung his leg over one of the fancy iron railings. Holding on with his hands, he balanced himself as he moved his other leg over the railing.
Toya sat alone in the empty darkness, staring up at the sky. His feet hovered over nothing. He hated heights. Ever since he was young, he had always had a deathly fear of heights.
Toya didn’t feel any fear, looking down beneath him.
If he fell, there would be nothing to catch him. The balcony wasn’t high— perhaps a few feet. Falling wouldn’t have been fatal. Perhaps he’d break a few bones.
If he hit his head, he could die.
He pondered the possibility. It was tempting.
It’d be better. Father wouldn’t have such a disappointment of a child. He wouldn’t be ashamed of me. Mother would be relieved, right? She wouldn’t have to hear any more arguments. My brothers would also be just fine without me. Akito— he has An and Kohane. They’ll take him to the destination of his dream. They’ll make him happy. Far more than I ever could. Tsukasa— he would be sad, Saki too. But that’d be for the better, right? They’ll still be fine without me. Everyone will be just fine. I don’t need to be around— everyone will be just fine.
The freedom of death didn’t seem too bad.
His phone buzzed and lit up, and he instinctively pulled it out of his pocket. The notification was a message from Akito.
Akito: you still up?
Toya: yes
Toya: whats the matter
Akito: sorry for messaging you so late
Toya: its fine
Toya: whats wrong
Akito: …
Akito: you good?
The message made Toya pause. Was he? Deep in his heart, he desperately wanted to tell Akito everything. He desperately wanted to cry in his arms.
Toya: yes im fine
Toya: what made you think something was wrong
Toya had hesitated sending the last message. But he was curious as to how Akito knew something was up.
Akito: your typing gave it away
Akito: no proper punctuation at all
Akito: clearly says somethings up
Toya paused, scrolling back up to his previous messages and reading them. It was true, he realized. His messages weren’t properly punctuated at all. To be honest, he simply hadn’t cared enough to bother.
Akito: I’ll ask again
Akito: you okay? You only ever start typing like me when somethings seriously wrong
Toya realized he didn’t know how he was supposed to answer. He probably sat there for a long time thinking about his next response, since Akito messaged him again.
Akito: toya?
Akito: you still there?
Akito: toya?
Akito: where are you.
Toya reread the last message over and over again. He typed out a response— with proper punctuation this time.
Toya: I’m at home. Why?
Akito: stay where you are. Dont move.
Toya blinked. What?
Toya: Akito, I’m fine.
There was no response. Toya sat on the balcony rail for minutes, staring at his screen. The wind was cold.
“Toya!” A familiar voice called from below. He looked down and saw his partner looking up at him with a panicked expression. “Toya,” he cried.
“Akito,” Toya said, powering off his phone and sliding it back into his pocket. “What are you doing here?”
His partner seemed to almost seethe at his question. “What am I doing? What the hell are you doing?” He stepped closer.
“Akito, please be quiet. My parents might wake up.”
“Like hell I’m gonna be quiet! Toya, get down from there.”
It was then that Toya realized that Akito thought he was going to fall off of the rail. He had considered it—yes, but had gotten distracted by Akito’s messages.
“Don’t worry. I’m just enjoying the stars tonight,” he said as an attempt to calm his partner down.
“You can enjoy the stars on the chair right behind you!” Akito retaliated, voice quivering. “ Please. ”
“It’s moldy,” was the lame excuse that he decided on. “Stop worrying—I won’t fall.”
“ Toya,” Akito tried again. “Please get down from there.”
Why do you care so much?
Akito was crying. There were tears pooling in his eyes, and his entire body trembled. His legs felt weak, and his head felt cloudy. His heart was beating faster than it ever had, and his vision swarmed from the sheer anxiety. Toya startled when he saw.
Look what you’ve done. You’ve hurt Akito now. What are you even doing? Just get down. Just get down. Just get down, and we’ll say goodnight and everything will be alright tomorrow.
Toya stood up. He saw Akito visibly flinch—violently. His eyes widened as he dashed forward, directly underneath Toya.
He thought I was going to jump off. He ran forward to catch me if I did.
Toya stepped over the rail, and back onto the balcony. Akito’s entire being sagged with relief. His limbs felt weak and heavy like a bag of bones.
“ Thank you,” Akito sobbed. His shoulder shook as he cried, tears falling onto the ground where Toya could have fallen. Tears painting the concrete where Toya’s blood could have.
“Akito,” Toya started, before stopping. He wasn’t sure what he should say.
This is your fault. This is your fault. This is your fault. Fix it.
“Akito,” he said more sternly. His partner raised his head. “Akito, I’m fine. It’s late— go home and sleep.”
“Will you go to sleep, too?” Akito croaked.
“If I leave, will I message you again, only to never receive a response? ” went unsaid.
“Yes,” Toya responded. “I will. Promise.”
“Okay,” Akito breathed. “Okay. I’m. I’m gonna trust you on this, okay?”
Toya nodded. “You can trust me.”
“I- if I asked to stay the night, you wouldn’t let me, right?”
Toya desperately wished he could’ve said yes.
He shook his head. “No, sorry. It’s too much of a risk— if my father finds you I-“ he cut off abruptly, unsure of how to continue.
“It’s okay, I understand,” his partner said breathily as he tried to calm his erratic sobs.
“I- I’m gonna. Go then, okay?” Toya nodded.
“See you, Akito.”
He jerkily nodded back. “Y-yeah. Right. See you. I’ll see you, Toya.”
Toya watched as he slowly turned and left towards his own house, often looking back at him. Eventually, he stopped and simply stared.
It took him a while to realize Akito was waiting for him to go back inside. When the realization hit him, he opened the slider and went back into his room. When he looked out the window, he was gone.
After a little while, his phone buzzed again.
Akito: I'm trusting you, okay?
Toya almost laughed as he read the message.
Who’s using proper punctuation now?
Toya: yeah. You can trust me, Akito.
Akito: alright.
Akito: I’m trusting you.