With a sigh, Karamatsu readjusted his grip on his mirror. He was almost sick of his face, but forced himself to keep looking. After all, it was the face of his brothers as well. He should love it.
And he tried.
But after this same routine for years, he was wearing down.
It wasn't a sudden crescendo. More of a drawn out note you don't notice is getting louder until it's blaring in your ears.
He wanted to die.
He told himself, every day, 'this is my face. This is their face. It should be loved'. But noticing the slight differences only amplified in his mind how that didn't ring true. He was no longer them, and they were no longer him.
And he was the unlovable one. Even to himself.
He wanted, so desperately, for someone to love him, anyone. He'd even openly accept abuse so long as he could hear those words.
'I love you.'
When had he last heard them? It must've been at least a decade ago. In youth, the brothers would say it to each other all the time. Usually before bed, or if they were temporarily parting ways.
He knew they all still said it to each other sometimes, but it hadn't been directed at him in so long.
Even their mother had long since stopped saying it. In fact, if he remembered correctly, the last time she'd said it was, "I love you, but…" followed by something she hated about him. He couldn't recall anymore what the rest of the sentence had been. Too caught up in hearing that 'but'. Too devastated knowing that the one person he thought should love him unconditionally did, in fact, have conditions. Expectations in order to earn that love. Expectations he couldn't live up to.
He was at his limit. He wanted to just smash this mirror. Watch it shatter. He knew his heart would shatter along with it. His poor reflection had done nothing wrong, after all. Didn't deserve to be broken.
He was the problem.
Finally at the end of his rope, he needed to know. Just how unlovable was he? Was it impossible for anyone to care? If he were to divulge just how he truly felt, would anyone bother to comfort him? Perhaps even try to convince him that killing himself wasn't what was best?
He didn't want to put his brothers to the test. But he needed answers. Perhaps he'd base his decision on how they responded, perhaps he'd keep on living despite… wait, he shouldn't immediately expect that they wouldn't care, or that they'd encourage him to go through with it. He had to give them a chance. They weren't bad people.
Though, likely, they'd only discourage his suicide out of pity. Or to avoid inconvenience.
No! Stop that! Maybe they did still love him. Maybe…maybe they figured he knew that well enough that they didn't have to tell him?
But they told each other. What made him so different?
Oh. Right. He was unlovable.
Steeling himself, and entirely unprepared for his own next words, he set down his mirror and forced out the words he couldn't quite believe he was finally admitting out loud.
"I want to kill myself."
The silence was suffocating, seemingly unending as he stared at the mirror face-down on the table in front of him. Terrified to look up at his brothers. To see them either annoyed that he'd broken the silence, or worse, ignoring that he had spoken at all. Uncaring for him, as they always were.
As the room remained silent, for so much longer than he could bear, his heart sank. Despite believing he was fully prepared for this reaction, for them to brush him off entirely, he'd apparently been wrong. It felt like his soul was being crushed.
He was right. They didn't care. They wouldn't mind in the slightest if he died. They'd maybe even be happy. Could he go on living, knowing this? He wanted to cry, but the grief was so overwhelming, he didn't think he could.
After an eternity, he decided he should go. Leave them be. They clearly didn't want him around-
A sudden hand on his shoulder pulled him from his thoughts. As he looked up to see who had approached him, he didn't even bother putting on the mask of someone who was okay. He didn't know what his face looked like at that moment, considering he didn't have his mirror, but it was likely miserable.
The face that looked back at him, however, was filled with concern.
He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen that look on Ichimatsu's face, at least not directed at him.
"Nii-san?" He began slowly, as if the word was foreign to him, at least in reference to this person. Or perhaps as if Karamatsu were a frightened animal who might bolt at any moment. Maybe a combination? Karamatsu couldn't tell.
"I…" Ichimatsu looked afraid, choosing his words carefully. "I understand what it feels like. Wanting to die. Even if the reasons are different. But I don't… I haven't even gone through with it. And I don't think you should either. I'm sorry. I'm sorry if… no. I'm sorry that I'm a part of the problem. I don't mean to be. I don't want to be."
Osomatsu and Todomatsu appeared behind him. Totty knelt down beside Karamatsu, grabbing a hold of the fabric on his upper arm, frowning deeply, before he spoke as well.
"You know, or, well, I guess you don't know, but. I'm here. If you ever want to talk about it. Or we don't even have to bring it up! We can just. Hang out. Spend time together. It could distract you from bad thoughts at the very least."
Jyushimatsu somehow managed to move the table without Karamatsu noticing, latching his arms around Karamatsu's waist.
"Karamatsu-niisan! I would miss you if you went away. And even if you want to, I still wouldn't like it. I would hate it, in fact! So, so stay! Okay?"
Choromatsu sat cross-legged to his right. Resting his head on Karamatsu's available shoulder.
"We need you, Karamatsu-niisan. Even if it's selfish of us, none of us are going to let you go. If you… did that, we would chase you down and bring you back, whether you liked it or not."
Finally, Osomatsu spoke.
"Karamatsu. Karamacchan. Karappi. You belong here, alive with us. We want you alive, here, with us. We love you. I love you. So, so much. And whatever you need to help you understand that your life is precious and worth living, we will do whatever we can to give it to you. Again, we love you."
The reassurances, the words of comfort, the pure love they were all giving him, Karamatsu didn't quite know how to handle it. It was so much positivity and attention and they loved him, oh God. When was the last time he'd felt elation like this? Had he ever? Had he died already and gone to heaven?
No, this was real. The hands holding him as well as his big brother ruffling his hair told him that. Perhaps in time he would be okay. In time, he could learn to love himself again, and he could recover from his suicidal wishes. Perhaps he would be okay again.
All he knew was that for the first time in forever, he felt he was finally capable of being loved.