Chapter Text
Ghost town, haunted love
Raise your voice, sticks and stones may break my bones
I'm talking loud
not saying much
1
«Yuma, can I ask you a question?»
Sitting on the bench next to Yuya, Yuma nodded and took a sip of the soda he had purchased moments before. Just then, a small white cloud briefly covered the summer sun of that afternoon.
«That key you wear around your neck, what is it? A good luck charm?" asked Yuya as he opened his can.
Yuma froze, swallowing the last sip almost with difficulty. He pushed the orange can away from his lips and coughed twice before calming down a little.
«More than a good luck charm, it's a keepsake» he replied, trying to show a resolve that didn't belong to him at that moment.
(Of course, he hadn't introduced himself to Yuya months ago by saying: “Hello, I'm Yuma Tsukumo and the key I wear around my neck is the only memory I have of my parents. You know, they disappeared years ago on a trip and never returned home”).
(Of course he hadn't introduced himself that way. But he never imagined that day coming so soon. He didn't feel ready to make Yuya a part of his pain. Because Yuya was already suffering enough).
Yuya seemed to notice his discomfort and lowered his gaze. «Sorry, that was insensitive» he whispered, his eyes shadowed by a thick layer of guilt. Most likely he had already figured it out.
«Don't say that! It's not true at all!» Yuma exclaimed, but the agitated tone in which he spoke those words didn't convince him either. He sighed.
During all those years that separated him more and more from the loss of his parents, Yuma had wrapped his heart in a titanium armor. An armor that he believed was bulletproof. An armor that he believed was just right as it isolated his soul and heart from negative feelings and focused only on the colors and good things in life.
He and Yuya were very similar, because Yuya also lived in his own personal loneliness: both had grown up without a father figure, lacking a point of reference. And Yuma didn't know what was worse, if not having a father for real or having one, knowing he was around in the world but never being able to see and embrace him. Maybe Yuya was experiencing a loneliness even worse than his own. And the titanium armor vibrated for a moment.
«Seriously, Yuya» he tried again and more quietly, «you don't have to feel guilty».
He reached for Yuya's hand and found it soon after, shaking it gracefully. Their fingers intertwined as another small white cloud overshadowed the sun.
The key he wore around his neck wasn't a good luck charm, but it wasn't something to be forgotten and segregated in the depths of the unconscious either. It was a part of him. Just like Yuya. And if the key represented the memories of his past
(the grip of their hands became even stronger)
then Yuya would represent, one day, the memories of his future. Of his beautiful future.
The white cloud had moved, releasing the sun.
And the titanium armor vibrated again. And then it broke.
(David Guetta ft. Sia – Titanium)