He brought the wrong notebook to class the next day. He had to borrow a pen from the girl next to him. And it had completely slipped his mind that he was supposed to be turning in an assignment. So he just didn't. He spent the whole of the lecture staring blankly at the bottom corner of the power point, taking no notes whatsoever, which made his borrowed pen useless as it lay slack in his fingers. He didn't even know what the general topic was, and when the same girl next to him asked him what the last point had been on one of the slides, he just blinked at her and admitted that he wasn't listening. Then he gave her her pen back.
He only continued to sit there because he didn't know what else to do with himself.
He and Kisumi had both been awake already by the time his alarm went off, and Kisumi had announced that he was going to take himself to class and didn't need Asahi to go with him. And that made Asahi extremely uneasy, but he was feeling very constricted in the room he had to disagree. So he just gave Kisumi a look and left ahead of him. He resisted texting him, and went through the motions of his day, hoping that at some point he'd just snap out of it and decide not to let it eat at his mind, but that never happened.
He felt … sickly. Not the achoo, wear-a-mask-around-all-day, and blow-your-nose kind of sick, but like the constantly-turning-stomach, perpetually-uncomfortable, gross-feeling kind of sick. It felt kind of like guilt, like he had done something wrong, or just simply not done something right, and he tried not to admonish himself for what had happened, because he'd just gone along with what Kisumi wanted, but it didn't expel the realization that he probably shouldn't have. He shouldn't have even kissed him in the first place, and that most definitely had been his own choice.
They hadn't talked about it — like at all. Once Kisumi had finished crying, and they'd cleaned themselves up, Asahi apologized and tried asking him questions, but Kisumi had just brushed them off with a general "I'm tired," and laid himself down to "go to sleep," but all either of them had done throughout the night was doze in and out of consciousness, while mostly staring through a heavy silence in opposite directions.
Asahi had checked over his shoulder at one point and caught Kisumi in a loose sleep, so he'd taken the opportunity to climb quietly out of bed, pluck the lucky charm off the table, and gingerly clasp it around Kisumi's neck. Then he had lain back and stared up at the ceiling, silently praying that Brazil knew what they were talking about.
Now he just felt kind of stupid, in many more ways than one, and all he wanted to do was take a shower — like that would help anything.
Normally, he'd swim when he felt this kind of low and aimless, but he'd already decided to skip practice. They wouldn't miss him anyway. He was just too tired — and he should probably do that assignment he'd forgotten about, even though it was already late. He was just barely keeping his grades around a very average level — below average in some classes even — and his professors had long since begun to give him sour looks that very clearly stated he was wasting their time if he wasn't going to try. And it wasn't like he wasn't trying. He'd just have to keep trying harder. Hopefully, he'd get more success out of that with school than he had so far with Kisumi.
He dropped his forehead into his hands and pulled at his hair with his fingers as the frustration bubbled up in another wave. He closed his eyes and waited for it to recede, but he felt like he was trying to patch up holes in a glass tank that was already beyond fixing. Unfortunately, that glass tank was sitting at the very bottom of a bottomless body of water, and so he had no choice but to do his best, because everything was leaking in, and he was already up to his waist in hopeless causes.
The girl next to him suddenly got up, and he lifted his head to find that the majority of the class was already halfway out of the room to leave. His professor was turning off the projector and wiping stuff from the board, and Asahi just sat there for another moment, because this was his last class, and he was half-afraid to go home.
"Shiina-kun?"
He flinched and jerked his head up to a girl he'd been in several classes with at this point. He didn't remember her name, but she had her head tilted with a crease of concern on her brow.
"Are you alright?"
"Yeah," he coughed up, standing and grabbing his notebook. He meant to acknowledge her more than that, but just started to walk toward the door instead.
"Shiina-kun." He turned on his heel, and she held up his book bag. "Isn't this yours?"
He huffed out a quiet breath, strode the two steps back to take it from her with a nod, then stuffed his notebook inside on his way out of the room and swung it over his shoulder.
He tried to formulate what he was going to say to Kisumi, on his way out of the building, and even still had to resist calling or sending a text to let him know he was on his way back, like he normally did. There was no way to be that kind of casual with him at the moment. He'd just have to suck it up and start talking as soon as he opened the door. Kisumi wasn't going to want to talk to him, but they had to do something. He was even willing to let Kisumi go off on a rant and yell at him for how inconsiderate, inadequate, and disappointing Asahi was. He was in his right to say so. Asahi would just rather know that up-front and in-person. He didn't really do well with cold shoulders.
He had just started stringing together his opening plea, when he glanced toward a stretch of grass in the quad and caught a glimpse of a familiar head of teal hair. He stopped and looked again, squinting as his shoulders dropped, and he just stood in the midst of student traffic, staring at Ikuya lying back in the grass with his hands behind his head. It didn't compute for a while, and clearly it wasn't going to, but it still took a good long minute before he conceded to turn and walk over.
He stopped right by the other boy's shoulder, shadow falling over his face. Ikuya blinked his eyes open and looked up at him with an undeterred gaze, like he completely belonged there and it was normal.
"What are you doing?"
"Sunbathing," Ikuya said, wiggling his shoulders into the grass as he made himself more comfortable.
"This isn't your school."
He lifted an eyebrow and glanced around. "It's not?"
Asahi clicked his tongue. "Ikuya …"
Ikuya passed him a very faint smile and shrugged. "I figured you'd be coming through here at some point."
Asahi furrowed his brow. "And?"
"And," the other said, propping himself up on his elbows and squinting against the sunlight. "I had some free time. Thought I'd be a good friend today."
Asahi didn't respond, so Ikuya sat up all the way and crossed his legs, eyeing Asahi curiously. After some quiet analysis, he pursed his lips and tilted his head.
"You're having a bad day."
Asahi pulled in a stiff breath and looked away. "Do those technically exist anymore?"
"Wanna talk about it?"
Asahi rolled the inside of his lip between his teeth, because the inclination to say no didn't present itself very strongly today.
To be honest — and this was a very secret secret — despite how often they picked at each other, Asahi found Ikuya to be a realistic confidant. None of his friends were particularly difficult to talk to — save Hiyori, but he still wasn't sure what level of "friend" Hiyori even was — however, there was something about Ikuya that Asahi instinctively trusted just a little bit more. Maybe that was because Haru wasn't good at keeping secrets, Makoto was overly soft and concerned, and Kisumi … Anyway, the point was, Ikuya listened in a way that was calculating, and his responses were never sugar-coated, nor were they confusing. He seemed to get Asahi's communication style the most, probably because they had a very similar way of communicating. It looked different, but could be summed up simply as "dramatic."
Asahi let a heavy sigh fall past his lips and tossed his bag to the ground before following it. He crossed his legs and let his head hang, immediately ripping up blades of grass.
"Did something happen?"
He didn't answer that for a long while. He thought it best to, he just didn't know how right away. This was a little bit more complicated than what it had been in the beginning of all of this, when he and Kisumi had first thought of the physicality of their relationship. It had started with a kiss, and kisses were so simple. He really wished it could all be simple.
"Me and Kisumi …" He pushed another breath through his nose and shook his head, trying to ignore the weight of his pulse sending blood up to his cheeks. "We had sex last night," he said, so quietly the confession was almost picked up and carried off by the breeze.
Even still, Ikuya stiffened. Asahi refused to look up at him. "Oh."
Long pause.
"That's not exactly the tone of victory I would have expected."
Asahi leaned his elbow on his knee and slid his fingers through his hair, turning his head away. Though, that was a great way to expose the blush on the back of his neck too. He didn't have the words yet.
"I'm guessing it wasn't … great?"
Asahi's chest sank. "It didn't exactly go the way that I thought it would."
"How did you think it was going to go?"
"Not like that. He cried afterward."
"Were you that bad?"
"No," Asahi snapped defensively, turning a glare on his friend. Though, the very moment he said it, a slimy insecurity he'd been trying to ignore since the night before wormed it's way up to clog his throat and his glare slipped away, replaced instead by a much too vulnerable frown, and he turned his eyes down again. He brushed the goosebumps off of his forearm.
"I don't know," he said, again very quietly. "I tried to give him everything he wanted, but … It was all so rushed, and aggressive, and he felt so distant. He wasn't himself at all. I shouldn't have … He hasn't been himself. I should have expected that. I shouldn't have started anything. I just wanted him to live, to breathe, to blink, to anything — to just feel something, something that wasn't sadness, or hopelessness, or pain. But I'm so stupid."
Ikuya pulled in a large breath. "That's probably not it," he mumbled.
"I have no idea what to do with him," Asahi said, gaze going out of focus on the browning edges of the grass. "I think I just screwed it all up. He's been so fragile, and I just … Ikuya, I'm so scared." He turned a grimace on the other boy and tried not to tremble. "He's so dark. He's so dark, and numb, and done with everything, and I can't get through to him. Nothing I say works. Nothing I do works. He's one step away from giving up on it all, and I think I just pushed him."
Ikuya made a face — pained almost, like he had a lot of thoughts that he didn't exactly want to share. He sighed out a long breath and scratched at the back of his head, looking up toward the sky with a squint.
"Gods, I'm going to regret this as soon as I say it," he said. Then he looked back at Asahi and dropped another breath. "I think you should talk to Hiyori."
Asahi twitched. "I'm sorry?"
"Yeah. Hiyori. I think you two should maybe —"
"Fuck no."
"Asahi, seriously …"
"No seriously, fuck no. Are you joking right now? That really isn't funny at all. Why the hell would I want to talk to Hiyori about any of this?"
"Because he would understand," Ikuya said, gazing straight through Asahi's eyes with not a single drop of insincerity. "He knows what it's like to be there for someone who can't give anything back."
A moment of silence passed between them, and it was probably the most genuine and raw they had ever been with each other, just gazing into the eyes across from them, and existing on a plane that wasn't as lopsided as it felt. Ikuya allowed his shoulders to sink and opened up with a single breath.
"Depression isn't just sadness, it's … drowning. It's suspension in a darkness that goes on forever, and whatever light was once in the world just isn't there anymore. Happiness isn't a friend. And at some point, you start doubting that it ever was — at least not for you. And then you're just there, watching everyone else's lives go by, and you know you're extremely useless, because you can't move, and you're infected. And no matter how many people try to lift you up, and pull you out, and bolster you with 'It's going to be okay, everything's going to work out, this is only temporary,' you already know that you're past saving, so what are you contributing to this world anymore? What can you give it, other than another reason to be sad?"
Something glistened behind Ikuya's eyes, and Asahi found himself enraptured by it. The goosebumps had spread their way all the way up to his neck now.
"It's endless pain," Ikuya said. He shook his head. "To the point where you start to feel nothing, and try as you might, telling yourself to wake up and move on just becomes impossible. There's no way to see past it. And sometimes … giving up is the only option for relief that presents itself."
Asahi let the shiver crawl down his spine. "How long were you in it?" he asked quietly.
Had he been talking to anyone else, it would have been entirely too bold of a question to ask, but Ikuya took it with grace. He didn't flinch a muscle.
"It doesn't go away," he said tonelessly. "Not completely. If nothing else, it's always a source of anxiety sitting in the back of your mind, knowing that you could start to drown again at any moment. It's a scary place to be in." His gaze drifted as he stared off over Asahi's shoulder. "I was there for years. And sometimes, I can feel myself starting to slip back, but … I think the only reason I don't is because I have friends."
He blinked and focused his gaze back on Asahi, whose chest went warm this time — uncomfortably so.
"I wish I could tell you there's a set of magic words to say that works every time," Ikuya continued. "But Kisumi has to decide that he doesn't want to drown, if he's going to get out of it. And that's the best advice I have for you. As far as being the one who has to watch from the outside …" He shrugged one shoulder and rubbed at the back of his neck. "Hiyori didn't leave my side once. He still hasn't. He's completely overbearing, and he's made a lot of dumb decisions, but … I probably wouldn't be here without him."
Asahi exhaled reluctantly, softly, finally turning his eyes back to the grass. He was quiet for a while before he mumbled, "You're telling me, me and Toono have something in common?"
Ikuya perked up a faint smile. "Crazy, right?"
"Unacceptable. I would never try to block Kisumi's friends from getting to him."
"Like I said, he's made some dumb decisions." Ikuya shrugged. "He's also made some good decisions too. You'll have to ask him how that went for him."
"You're assuming I'm going to take your advice to go to him for advice."
Ikuya nodded. "Yeah. Only because I'm pretty sure you'll do anything for Kisumi."
Asahi's stomach turned again, and he tried to swallow, but that essentially did nothing, and he could practically feel Ikuya's eyes watching him struggle.
"I admire you, I think," he said with a sigh. "You're tenacious, Asahi. I understand where Kisumi's coming from, but I'll never know what it's like to be in his position. It's the shits, and I can't imagine the kind of strength it takes to hold someone up like that."
It was hard, trying to process these words, and it seemed that every time someone said anything like it, it just got harder. He didn't know if that was because the words were cutting him deeper or if it was because he was always that much closer to losing his grip, and then suddenly someone would come along to remind him to adjust and keep holding. His arms were trembling at this point — out of fear, out of strain, out of exhaustion — but what else was there to do? He still didn't feel like he was any good at it. And most especially not now. Ikuya seemed to read that.
"Making a joke about the sex probably wouldn't fit here, huh?"
Asahi gave him a flat look. "No."
Ikuya nodded. "You shouldn't blame yourself. The fact that he cried means you got through to him somehow, and that counts for something."
Asahi wanted to express his doubts about that, but he decided to keep the ominous swell to himself. No one else knew how close Kisumi was to dropping off the edge. Asahi didn't even know how close he was, but he was pretty sure the lack of communication and insistence upon being left alone weren't good signs to go off of.
"I guess," was all he responded with.
Ikuya pinched his lips to the side. "I won't say anything cliché to you. I think trying to reassure someone that everything is going to be okay is a waste of breath. But, having no hope doesn't do you any good either."
Asahi found his gaze softening on his friend with his own form of admiration, and he was almost embarrassed that it was probably obvious, but just for this moment, he would allow it. He might as well, since Ikuya was so willing to make himself vulnerable. It was crazy how they had never really experienced this kind of moment before, and yet it felt so natural.
"I think that works as well as anything," Asahi said.
Ikuya nodded. "Have you guys talked since last night?"
Asahi heaved a giant sigh and pushed himself up from the grass, grabbing the strap of his bag along the way. "No," he said, slinging it over his shoulder. "But I should probably face him at some point."
Ikuya stood too. "If you need a shoulder to cry on afterward … Haru and Makoto have a cat."
Asahi allowed himself to cough up an amused breath. He squinted against the sun and passed Ikuya a small smile. "There it is. I was wondering how long we were going to be sentimental."
"Tongue-in-cheek comments should be used sparingly and at the right moments. It's an art form."
Asahi rolled his eyes. "Thank you, Ikuya. You chose quite the day to be a good friend."
Ikuya pursed his lips to the side again, eyes shifting as though finally embarrassed, and he turned to head off in the opposite direction. "Yeah, alright. That's enough."
Asahi's smile lifted a little more in the corners as he watched Ikuya walk off for a moment, thinking that he was glad his friend had managed to make it through his dark days. Despite the number of years that had gone by with silence between them, he couldn't imagine there being an Ikuya-shaped hole in his life now, and he didn't mind being one of those friends that kept him tethered either.
As though sensing all of these sappy, passing thoughts, Ikuya looked back over his shoulder once and made a face when he saw that Asahi's eyes were still on him.
"Go home," he ordered, to which Asahi smirked and turned on his heel.
He felt a little bit lighter, walking back to the apartment — not much, but it was enough. He at least had some form of resolve and was ready to accept his fate, was ready to accept both of their fates. Kisumi had told him early on that he didn't want to make Asahi miserable, and Asahi had brushed that away without a glance, because he'd long since decided there was no other option. He still felt that way. If misery was going to insist on being there, he'd just have to sit next to it for a while, but he wasn't going to let it stay forever. He refused to crumble under this, and talking to Ikuya had just reminded him how essential it was that he widen his stance and bear the load. He could keep breathing — one day at a time, he could keep breathing. And even if he had to drag Kisumi behind him on a string, that boy was going to keep breathing too.
He shuffled around Kisumi's car, and paused to dig the notebook he was supposed to have in class today out of the front seat. Then he made a mental note to start caring more about where he left his stuff. He trudged up the stairs to the door, listening to the rhythm of his footfalls along the way, now that the anxiety was beginning to make his heart flutter off tempo. It was the same kind of feeling of nervousness he'd gotten the night he asked Kisumi out on their one and only official date, what felt like ages ago. He paused at the doorstep and everything, running the opening plea through his mind again, shifting around some phrases and replacing a couple of words with new ones.
He was pushing back against the insecurities as forcefully as he could, but they were managing to slip around his shield and slowly converge, now that he was so close to having to remedy this. None of the inherent issues in Kisumi's life thus far had really revolved around their relationship specifically. It was more that, their relationship specifically was suffering as a result of all the grievances Kisumi's life did revolve around. This was different. This was something that had happened explicitly and exclusively between the two of them, and now they had to fix it. Asahi had to fix it. And on his lips was a ready apology for falling short, for not reading Kisumi the way that he should have, for allowing his own yearning for warmth to overshadow Kisumi's need for patience and space.
He closed his eyes and exhaled. Then he unlocked the door and entered into silence.
It was a habit, to pause while closing the door behind him and do an initial scan of the apartment. That was the quickest way to gauge the quiet that met him and to know when he would have to start looking in all of the hiding places.
It was one of those days, so he sighed another quiet breath and set his book bag down by the door.
He checked the bathroom first. The tub was where he usually found Kisumi the most, but he wasn't there today, so he moved on. Under the bed was typically spot number two, then he would check the closets, then the balcony, then the kitchen cabinets, because yes actually, Kisumi had managed to fit under the sink a couple of times, but he wasn't there either. The next thing to do was check the time and revisit Kisumi's schedule.
No, Kisumi wasn't in class right now — and clubs were long since a thing of the past. So, to keep from being overbearing, he went down the list of friends Kisumi could possibly be with right now. Yua was out of town for the week. Ichika was getting ready for a date. Makoto was working. Haru was swimming and covering for Asahi's absence. Ikuya was just getting off the train on his side of town. Hiyori had been waiting for him, and none of them had seen or heard from Kisumi all day.
Then, and only then, did Asahi allow the unsettled, ominous swell to clash with his irregular heartbeat, and he stepped back out the front door to look over the rail and check for the car, even though he already knew he'd stopped at it on the way up. He went back inside and paid closer attention.
Kisumi's school books for today's classes were sitting on the corner of the desk where they had been left two days ago. His laptop was there. His book bag was there. All of his clothes were in place and untouched. His default pair of shoes were gone.
This was about when Asahi's throat began to close, and he could feel the cold numbing the tips of his fingers as he futilely swept around the apartment again, rechecking all of the hiding places, while he kept his phone pressed against his ear and listened to it perpetually ring with no answer.
It wasn't until he left the bathroom for the third time that he heard the muffled buzz of something vibrating somewhere in the room and his knees started to tremble as he stumbled back to the bed and pushed the blankets around until he found Kisumi's phone. He tossed his own to the side, when he picked it up with shaking hands, and unlocked the screen.
Makoto had sent Kisumi a message that morning, and Kisumi had never responded to it. Asahi's vision blurred over and he had to squint, trying not to fumble the phone as he swiped and scrolled and looked through it for yet more disconcerting clues that would hopefully tell him where to look. As the universe would have it, Kisumi's search history pulled up a Shinkansen schedule, and the screen was hovering on a five o'clock departure to Himeji. It was 4:33.
Asahi jumped up, tripped over one of his own stray t-shirts, hit his shin on the study table, and then tore the apartment apart in search of the car keys, which were not on the counter where Kisumi usually left them. A prickle of something beyond panic shuddered its way up his arms as the pieces continued to fit themselves together, and he gave up on the car keys. He ran instead. He didn't lock the door, didn't take anything with him, he just ran.
He tried not to dwell on the hopelessness of how entirely too slow his legs were moving even though he was flying so fast down every sidewalk that he knocked at least three people over without a single apology. He jumped on a local line half a second before the doors closed, and several eyes watched him warily as he paced up and down the car like a madman trying to hold his head together and stay on task.
Stay on task. Stay on task. Stay on task.
He couldn't let the panic swallow him. He couldn't. He tried not to. But it was a Wednesday. The only things that were missing from the apartment were Kisumi and his shoes, and he had hidden the keys from Asahi.
He was going to throw up if he stopped moving. The only thing he could do was pace, and rake his hands through his hair, and cycle through a library of curses, and try not to hyperventilate.
The train was moving entirely too slow. Some brave soul tried to get his attention to calm him down, and he snapped at them. Then everyone else in the car moved away from him, and they didn't dare get in his way when the train finally pulled up to the Shinkansen stop. He shoved his way past the doors before they were even fully open, and his eyes flickered up to the time before he darted for the steps. It was 4:58.
He couldn't breathe, and yet he somehow found the voice to shout at people to move as he sprinted past. His pulse was in his ears, in his temples, in his throat, in his fingers, and everywhere except the inside of his chest. He was coming up on the check-in kiosks quickly, and even if he had time to stop and buy himself an entrance pass, the lines were entirely too long. His eyes darted from the kiosks to the gates several times, and not once did he stop along the way. He changed course and ran straight for the gate.
The security guard hovering off to the side noticed. "Hey! Hey, stop!"
But Asahi had already cleared the gate like a hurdle and only lost one step in between. He took a sharp turn toward the platforms and didn't brake once.
"Hey!" A whistle blew, loud and shrill, somewhere behind him, and he entirely ignored it. "Stop!"
He could see the train, could see its closed doors and entourage of people waving after their loved ones with smiles.
"Wait!" he shouted, panic breaking through his voice like a wave crashing against the cliffside. "Move! Excuse me, move, move! Hold the train!"
Of course they didn't. There was no one to listen to him but the people who had no control over whether the train left or stayed, and they all turned their attention to him as they stumbled out of his way, and still the whistles were being blown behind him, but he'd just caught it. He darted alongside the tracks toward the window where a blur of pink was sitting in the corner.
"Kisumi! KISUMI, STOP!"
The train started to move, just exactly when he jumped up and threw a hand toward the window to get his attention, and Kisumi flinched. His lavender eyes darted to Asahi with something he didn't have the know-how or the time to read, but it was the last thing he saw. And then the train was pulling away from him much too quickly. His body tried to follow it, but there was absolutely no hope at all.
"Kisumi!" he choked, heart pulling away from him the very moment that pink hair disappeared.
And then he was tackled.