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There lingered a sound of heavy breathing in the air.
One that seemed too far away to be thoroughly ascertainable. And yet, it couldn't be neglected the way Mikey would have liked to – its familiarity too apparent to be overlooked.
The rain pouring down on them bestowed its elegance upon the moment, bathing the scenery in a mood that Mikey probably would have mirrored if it wasn't for his emptiness. Contrarily to the boy in front of him, who externalized so many confusing sentiments that he felt his soul being devoured further as he attempted to lose himself all the more.
He couldn't afford anything else.
He had listened to these impressions for a while now. The rapid panting was performed arduously, leaving the boy in front of him gasping as he choked on the unspoken words that filled his chest with remorse. Mikey watched the blood dripping down his face as it fell to the ground where it wouldn't depart his perception, and somehow the deep red was more striking than anything he had encountered so far.
The melody composed by all the sounds coming from the boy seemed malevolent because it endangered everything they had once built together – a bond Mikey had perceived as natural, seeing as it did not require exertion to be created.
Back then, his dark impulses had known nothing to retort to their forming friendship, keeping their mouths shut whenever he was honored with yet another smile. This had only been possible because it happened with someone like him.
A person like him knew to arouse fascination in others through minor things, a pinning impression that one aspired to investigate further – the first impression simply too little to be satiating.
In Mikey's case, he had encountered something far more significant – another chance to righten the wrong, for the boy he had met reminded him of his elder brother, Shinichiro. The face of the latter didn't want to quit haunting him ever since he had come across the blonde. Over time, however, the boy had managed to worm himself into a different part of his heart, occupied a space that wasn't meant for a brother, and Mikey knew to fear that. Hence, he had consigned his soul to the abyss of his emptiness, as condign punishment for its betrayal. Why would it work against him?
Hanagaki Takemichi used to beam at him with his broad grin that seemed to know no sorrow. It brightened up whatever wrong was nigh, stealing his every ache by being close to him and presenting a new perspective.
Today, Mikey learned that the boy's unwavering exuberance had never been the truth, seeing as the broken smile adhered to his split lips as if its shards were only sticking to him because of the wounds they had caused. A squandered picture of his past that used to spend him solace whenever the world around him froze but had abandoned him in the cruelest of coldness right after.
It was today that Mikey apprehended how exhausted the Hanagaki was. And he hated it because the boy was supposed to be the tougher one.
He hated him and his determination (after all, this only brought him to an end). He loathed the blond locks, which blew about in the wind since the gel was no longer strong enough to keep it in the desired place (as well as the traces of blood that surreptitiously mixed into its tips, shrieking tauntingly at Mikey). Mikey detested everything the Hanagaki symbolized, for he merely epitomized what has never been granted to him – a life full of bliss, a life with his friends.
In the end, however, Mikey abhorred himself the most because he was not blind to the pain imbuing his counterpart, and he did not even have to scrutinize his own hands to know who had done this to him.
It's fatuous when you consider Mikey was prone to vowing death to anyone who dared to lay a hand on the Hanagaki (or to take him away from him – which no one had even to attempt since the boy had left on his own)...
What had happened to his condemnation – his punishment?
Mikey necessitated it...
Where has the hateful look gone to he was supposed to receive due to the atrocities he had committed? He examined the face of the Hanagaki but found nothing.
He turned his head to the left and the right – in any direction, yet the answers he reached out for played a game of hide-and-seek to which Mikey had lost from the very beginning.
He had to take care of it himself, he concluded. Thus, he began.
"I've told you, didn't I? Yet here we are, the last men standing, and you even struggle to prevent your legs from giving in," Mikey's voice shouted – a sound he had long been incapable of, his lungs simply too dry to retort anything and his sentiments to meaningless to be expressed – but here he was. Too many words echoed through his skull so that he would have needed to roar to remove its burden from his circulation altogether.
"Takemitchy, with you, Toman will finally be gone."
This time, his words were quieter, hushed under the strain of his aching heart, but he ignored it – where has it been when he needed it? It was too late for it now.
Mikey wanted to resume, throwing reproaches at the Hanagaki until he fell over, only to finally observe an expression of aversion on the picturesque face of his former friend because Takemichi was the only one whose opinion mattered, and Mikey needed his confirmation. He had to hearken to his words that stated what a monster he really was – only Takemichi, no one else.
"Heh. Do you think it's that easy?" Mikey knew that, in the past, he would have flinched at the forever unexpected resolve of the Hanagaki, but nothing stirred in him these days as long as it weren't the words he required to move on.
"What?" (Go on, provide me with a reason to destroy you, but hurry up, for I can't stand your sight.)
His facial expression remained nonchalant; it wouldn't change, albeit anger or repugnance befell him – Mikey needed to last in his slumber painted by lies that made him forget what reality denoted. It was easier that way; it made him believe in the picture of the invincible Mikey that he ought to be since it was the only persona he knew of – the only one capable of destroying the Hanagaki.
"Do you seriously believe you could end it just like that?"
What the hell was he talking about? Of course, it was that simple… if it weren't for the fact that Mikey did need that tiny confirmation of how forlorn he truly was. But other than that, it was way too unproblematic.
"You are weaker than me," a lie, and they both knew that. The Hanagaki had always been stronger than him; he was his hero after all – "What do you mean?"
Mikey drowned the suffocated voice of the minor child who listened to every word that left the Hanagaki's mouth, staring hopefully into the sky as if there was a future awaiting them. Unfortunately, it seemed to have forgotten that all the shooting stars had already passed, omitting the two of them.
"Even if I am gone, there will always be one person left. And that person had already promised to fight for their friends till the very end, to create a new era for delinquents with Toman as its prime example," the voice of the Hanagaki quavered. Yet Mikey knew it wasn't because of the fear of the monster that stood in front of him but rather the many injuries the boy had sustained.
Mikey clenched his teeth; he could not maintain his apathy this time.
"What the hell are you talking about?" Again, he wanted to add something, expose what he had become, weave accusations that by no means enthused his interior but still seemed hurtful enough to induce the boy to forsake him. However, the blonde had other things in mind.
"Manjiro!"
He twitched. It was faint, hardly conspicuous, but it quaked any barrier he thought he had erected inside.
"Hah?"
The Hanagaki looked him right in the eye. The clear blue they once radiated was soaked in the grief Mikey had banished from his reality.
Takemichi had to disappear.
He hated him, hated the way the boy caused the feelings that had been lost on the Sano to rage inside his body once more, waking everything he had arduously numbed to fulfill the purpose of the hoax.
"Sano Manjiro. You remember him?"
Sano Manjiro?
Mikey didn't want to remember him. This boy had a family, people who looked up to him – this person owned the heart of Takemichi, kept his hopeful gaze upon himself, constantly focused on the clear blue that he missed so much.
Mikey despised him.
"I do. I remember him. And you know what? I fucking miss him! He told me how strong I am with a body as weak as mine. He walked in front of all of us with a soul as shattered and broken as his, crying quietly to himself whenever he had to let go of yet another friend."
Mikey felt his face hurt due to the rigidity it demanded to promise himself and his countenance to the emptiness. His mouth almost trembled due to the pressure weighing on it as he pursed his lips.
The Hanagaki took a step in his direction, closed the distance a little more as if his words weren't lucid enough, and Mikey felt the encumbrance on his chest as he curbed his heart – it had no place in his life after betraying him that greatly.
"You're right, Mikey. This person is stronger than me. But you aren't him."
Mikey raised his chin; finally, they had arrived where he had always needed them both to be. Takemichi would now tell him what he necessitated to hear, depriving his world of the last spark of hope, sealing it in torment forevermore so that it would compensate for what the monster he was had instigated. Takemichi would ram the dagger into his chest that he had handed to him after their first encounter to attribute his vulnerability to the other.
The Hanagaki didn't seem to realize that it wasn't Mikey who would end it – he would be the one dealing with the coupdegrâce so that Mikey could complete his transformation.
(The Sano should have known better.)
"Yet I just know he's somewhere inside of you, waiting to be discovered, hiding beneath the debris of his broken soul, the remnants of what you had forsaken, locked up behind your so-called dark impulses." The blonde smiled weakly, his gaze lowered, and Mikey felt a hint of panic permeating him as he could not interpret without the facial expression of the other whether he mocked him or spoke out of conviction. Even telling which of the two options would frighten him more seemed impossible for whatever reason.
"But you know what? I can see you, Manjiro."
Mikey tore open his eyes. The blue of the ocean captured his appearance, seemingly staring directly into his soul – what did he see there?
The trembling of his body upset him way too much, and he felt himself simmering with furious ire, which bore no resemblance to the cruelty of his emptiness, yet both sentiments merely knew how to destroy.
"And I am here to keep my promise! I will save you!" The smile of the boy in front of him expanded, thus, making Mikey inhale irately.
His lips quivered, juddering with the feelings he believed he had buried, yet they danced a performance depicting his inner turmoil as if they had betrayed him as much as his imprudent heart.
One emotion, however, was striking – it overpowered every other and tamed the emptiness with which his shell had previously been filled, making him scream from the bottom of his throat; –
It was his anger, erupted by all the agony he had omitted. Still, it undeniably had control over him ever since.
Mikey experienced fury, but who this was in fact aimed at remained unknown – he vented it on any creature near him anyway.
"What are you talking about?! Can't you see this? "A finger protruded without being instructed to do so by his brain, but it wasn't grueling to locate something suitable – after all, lifelessness and obliteration was a constant companion of Mikey's and greased itself onto everything he came into contact with.
"These are your friends, idiot! And this is my work! Don't underestimate my urge to destroy!" (Open your eyes at last; don't focus on my face anymore – it's not worthy of anyone. Abandon me, hate me, give up on me! Just do something!)
The Hanagaki shook his head in an attempt that was too hasty to suggest that the boy remained intrepid. He perceived what Mikey saw – did he finally understand?
Mikey's lips deformed into what was supposed to imitate a grin but depicted mere madness, which he had exclusively in stock.
"You were standing in the background. You weren't the one punching them!" The Hanagaki's eyes were misty, not accepting the remnants of truth Mikey was capable of preserving.
Was he trying to deny everything? Well, Mikey would play along.
His supposed grin intensified, dipping his facial expression into his disgust for himself, but it was hidden, pressed down under the madness that allowed him to continue breathing.
"Hah! Precisely! Because I don't even deem you guys worthy of my time. I merely enjoyed watching you all being tormented. That's what I am, Takemitchy," the name etched into his skin like acid, too contemptuously had he dared to voice it, but Mikey didn't stop there – not when the boy didn't give him what he needed lastly. He collected the words he was confident of the impact they had on the other – how much they would hurt him – and spat them into the angel's face whose mere sight equally pained him. (He silenced his qualms with the prospect of never having to hurt him afterward, neglecting the consequences it would bear) "This is what has become of your precious Manjiro!"
Mikey waited. The shock in the eyes of the Hanagaki was profound – the dagger with which he ought to injure him was rammed deep into the boy's ribs. If not, he would probably never notice it, and Mikey perceived the injuries he had sustained himself during the act. But instead of despising them, as he did with everything else in the world, he greeted them warmly, seeing as it would be the last thing Takemichi bestowed upon him. Perhaps it was greedy of him to cling to these feelings, but maybe the Hanagaki was right when he said that there was still a part of the boy he so despised somewhere among the multitudes of lies and emptiness. And he may have found a lever with which he triggered things in him that seemed too foreign after all these years, but Mikey discarded this thought since the boy would finally suffocate together with the love he felt for Takemichi.
He waited, anticipated, and expected, yet Takemichi just stared at him, and somehow this made things even worse. When he was about to verbalize something that he believed would ultimately bring him salvation, the Hanagaki's tears began soaking his cheeks, and the boy opened his mouth.
"You say that, but why do you cry then?"
Mikey was appalled. Despite the short-circuit, his mouth flew open to provide his body with oxygen and somehow keep him alive. Still, he doubted it would do anything because his suddenly screeching heart tortured him with the amount of pain engulfing him. His chest contracted, and Mikey guided a hand to his face – gingerly, seeing as his being pledged to break at the slightest touch that was faulty performed.
It was damp. His cheeks took on the same hideous wetness that ought to be solely granted to the people that merited to grieve, and Mikey was not included in said group. His sentiments did not deserve any attention. His grief had no meaning, for it was self-inflicted. He deprived himself of everything and wasn't entitled to earn any recognition or reaction from his body for the misery he was going through.
Mikey's hand trembled – nay, his entire body – and he clutched his shirt to catch whatever was about to fall out of his chest.
"It's me who's the crybaby, Manjiro. You've always been my hero. So why do you cry?" Takemichi's voice hummed a melody that overtly displayed his grief.
But why would he grieve? He was gazing at Mikey – there was nothing to mourn here. If anything, he could regret not having discerned the monster in him sooner and now lamented his foolishness.
Why would he take a step towards him, though?
"I'm sorry, you know. I'm sorry for letting you go through all that the entire time..."
He was sorry? Why? What is it? Mikey was fine. The pain in his chest was not allowed to find a reaction in anyone – it was up to both of them to hush it up, consequently robbing it of its actual existence because the Sano was not to be saved.
However, Takemichi did not seem to make out his screams, refusing to comply with his demands, and he stepped, yet again, a little closer. Mikey could feel the other's breath on his cheek. The moisture that was not allowed to be present became warm and embraced him with the kindness of heart that Takemichi always had at hand.
Mikey loathed it.
Why him?
"Hence, let me take over for once! Let me be the hero – the avenger for your forlorn tears," But he had always been his hero – that has been his problem from the beginning! "I beg you, Manjiro, this is our last resort!"
The outstretched hand that was offered to him seemed inviting, and Mikey despised himself for the mere presumption that his own would be entitled to accept it.
So why did it hurt all the more to have him so close, to inhale his scent, comprehending he would never be his?
Mikey felt his tears well up in his eyes – a vicious circle that could not be interrupted today even though nothing was left in him. The anger had passed; all that unceasingly scared away his emptiness was the pain and fear that upset his inner turmoil.
He wanted to gasp, but there wasn't enough air there – what if he deprived Takemichi of his'?
He wanted to scream, but he lost his every word – he couldn't interrupt Michi's voice.
He wanted to go out and smash everything he could hit, but he lacked the strength – what if he destroyed their bond?
what would happen if he was too slow?
But again, the Hanagaki didn't seem to take cognizance of it –
"Come home at last – we've been waiting for you."
This was enough to divest Mikey of the strength that somehow kept him on his feet. Only did he realize now how exhausted he was. His muscles ached, craved for the warmth his counterpart radiated, and Mikey trembled at the revelation of his vincibility.
Takemichi did indeed possess the dagger that uncovered his vulnerability. Still, instead of destroying his soul, he pierced any tunnels and blockages that separated their hearts, baring what Mikey had so desperately tried to hide.
Takemichi found him – Sano Manjiro.
"Takemitchy?" inquired his broken voice, and Mikey was terrified of the forlornness he detected in it. Everything about it seemed so extraterrestrial of the person he had assumed to be.
Takemichi followed him to his knees, wrapped his arms around his quaking body, and began picking up the pieces that had shattered into the thousands of shards when Mikey broke, giving rise to Manjiro's existence once again as he was finally released.
He felt the pulse in his veins as it tried to oxygenate his heart faster as well as more aggressively, and his heartbeat caused a strange feeling in him – which only now did he realize – he had missed for a long time.
His heart didn't beat solely to ensure his survival – it thumped for him and Takemichi.
"You're not just your dark impulses, Manjiro; you are so much more than that. I cannot promise you it will be fine again – that wouldn't be fair since I have no idea what atrocities will be waiting for us. However, having you by my side – I know it will make things better, hold them together until we have the opportunity to let them heal wholly. "
Manjiro tried to follow his words, but the volume of his wheezing and the many sobs that perfected his sorrow robbed him of his sense of hearing – not entirely though, seeing as his heart knew to understand Takemichi's every word, come what may.
"I hope the same can apply for you. I'll try. I will never accept anything else, believe me. "
Manjiro scraped up the remainder of his strength to fasten the grip of his two arms, which were desperately seeking after Takemichi's warmth, to narrow their personal space so that the other could understand; –
Fathom that Manjiro had always believed in him (that's why he bequeathed him everything.). Comprehend that Takemichi didn't have to be more than he was because even now, his splendor surpassed anything Manjiro was entitled to.
Takemichi was supposed to understand that he had become his world, and that was something he couldn't bear to forego – his pathetic embrace expressing everything his voice was not capable of.
"I will save you. And you will save me – I'm sure of that!"
Manjiro let the last impulse of rejection subside, concentrating entirely on the warmth that filled him again after years of icy storms – shared by Takemichi, his Takemitchy, and he confided in him, although his fears advised him on something else.
"I will wait for you then," he whispered in tears that were no longer just his own, for Takemichi held him in his arms, mingled their tears in a jumble that made his sniffles seem less deviant, and Manjiro robbed closer to his angel.
That was home. He had forgotten how good it felt there.