Hi reader peoples! Umm this is a one shot I did from Shuichi's POV. I kind of have like a whole alternate universe worth of headcanons about Shuichi and the whole cast in general and this is kind of in that rewritten universe, so it might not seem directly canon, I suppose. Well, enjoy!


Shuichi's POV

To him, the world never felt like it wanted him. Never once in his life, in any situation, did he ever truly feel "at home" somewhere, like he was okay the way he was, like others saw him as an equal. He didn't feel like it was right to really call any place his home. What even makes something a home? A place where you're a freak? Where you're ridiculed? Told you just don't fit? Where you always feel like you have to be on your toes, because someone could hurt you at any moment with their words and their disdainful, piercing eyes. A place where you didn't feel comfortable even just existing, breathing, being. A place that makes you feel wrong. If it's all those things, can it really be called a home?

But now, here he was, on a stage, and it just felt so...right. Like maybe he was okay the way he was. Like maybe he mattered. Like maybe, just maybe, he was doing something right; something meaningful. He didn't feel like he was shifting in a too-tight plastic mold of who he's supposed to be, squirming and uncomfortable, nor does he feel vulnerable, with his skin peeled off, like a piece of defective meat that no one wanted. Here, he felt just right: he felt like he was in his own skin, and he wasn't ashamed of it: he was proud.

The words cascading from his lips like a waterfall, reverberating throughout space. The glow of the spotlights warm on his skin. The deafening cheers of an audience that just couldn't get enough of him. They wanted him. They needed him. He didn't care if it was just for their own entertainment; it was still that much closer to feeling wanted, loved even. like he belonged somewhere in this painful, confusing, ever-changing world that doesn't take the time to stop and check-in on you.

His whole life, even if on the surface level he felt relatively "okay", there was always this lingering dysphoria inside him; this doubt, this isolation that felt like cold granite settling inside his chest. Now, all he could feel throughout his body was lighting; euphoric sunshine pumping through his veins, a ball of light fluttering in his stomach.

And he sparkled.


Please please please, I cannot stress this enough, read and review!