Work Text:
I am a fish inside a birdcage.
Atsushi Nakajima was never human.
My brother always sings me songs.
Chuuya Nakahara was never human.
With his beak, he tries to soothe me.
Atsushi never felt real.
He makes me feel that I belong.
Chuuya never felt real.
He has a wild imagination.
Atsushi took the last name from his father, who left him in a garbage can when he was four years old. He forgot everything except one thing before then.
And tells me things That must be true.
Chuuya got the last name from the scientists he killed when he was six. He forgot everything except one thing before then.
Like there's a world where I can take flight.
The last thing Atsushi remembered before he turned four was pain. Sharp, stabbing, terrible pain. Atsushi can still feel it sometimes. He could feel it running up his arms and clouding his vision. It was awful; it scattered hidden scars across his mind that ran deep into his bones and plagued his sleep. He couldn't close his eyes without seeing the phantoms of death and the hands that held him down. Atsushi felt it all and can still feel every single second of it.
Where I can freely move.
The last thing Chuuya remembered before he was seven was pain. Drowning, choking, stinging pain. Chuuya still feels it. He can still feel it grappling his limbs and leaving a metallic taste in his mouth. It spread curses and remorse through his mind and deep into his heart. It kept him from sleeping. The blood-stained his hands and tore his thoughts from his head. It was keeping him contained and trapped. Chuuya felt it all and can still feel every single second of it.
So, carry me from these walls.
Atsushi was saved by good from evil, something whose smiles carried nothing but joy and held out hands that held him up from falling. It brought him to the sky and kept him on an altar that gave him a false sense of security. He walked among clouds that were thin and slowly moving away. Atsushi held onto something liquid, something he could never grasp. He was manipulated and taken advantage of while others cheered him on with eyes of greed. Atsushi was brought to hope and refuge, just not for himself.
Brother of mine
Chuuya was saved by evil from good, something that showed reality for what it was. It put him above all others and gave him every possibility of falling. He was pushed down and prodded with sticks and stones that he kicked away. He stayed above the stars and moved like a comet. Chuuya held onto everything solid and was never tricked, yet slowly it turned to liquid. He was bruised and bloodied by those he trusted; he was betrayed. Chuuya was brought into a world of blood and guns but never used a weapon.
Could you show me the world outside?
Atsushi Nakajima was a weapon. Something that hid a power behind that which could only be described as too powerful. He carried the claws of brutality and the fur of a beast that trapped a fragile butterfly within its paws. His whole being was made for violence. Blood painted his soul and dragged him to the depths of the earth. Lava dripped within his mind, melting his skin and drying up in a lonely embrace. Atsushi was never made to live peacefully. Atsushi was made to kill, maim, to destroy. He was not ordinary, and he never would be.
It has to be true.
Chuuya Nakahara was a weapon. He was the emblem of destruction; his meaning of being alive was to be feared. He was a catastrophe at its finest, a volcano on the verge of eruption. His music was a storm, the rain pattering rooftops and blowing trees from the ground. He was the formation of an artificial hurricane, one that would wipe out an entire population. His spirit was painted in red; his soul was never there. Chuuya was never meant for peace. Chuuya was made to be a raging storm. He was not ordinary, and he never would be.
I'm counting on you
Atsushi would never get a happy ending. His ending would be a bitter betrayal that stained the earth under him crimson. Atsushi would gasp for air and wheeze, crying for anyone to help or save him. Blood would slowly seep out of a gaping hole in his chest, and his hands would shakily try to stop the flow. This boy would beg anyone to save him. His partner, his mentor, and his friend. Yet it would be useless; Atsushi would be a sacrifice of few. He would never be a hero; he would never gain a purpose.
To be my wings and my eyes.
Chuuya would never get a happy ending. His ending would be alone, he would reach out for someone to save him, yet his calls went unanswered. Chuuya would try to hang on, grasping at anything as he was swept away from people's memories. His voice would go unheard as he screamed in agony. His hands and nails would bleed as he pounded on his mind to be released from the cage he was trapped in. Chuuya would be a sacrifice of many. He would never be a hero; he would never gain a purpose.
As I breathe into our silence
When Atsushi Nakajima died, the whole world mourned. They mourned the sunrises that would wake the trees and flowers. They wept for something they could not understand, something as soft as a blanket, and carried the whole world's sympathy. The world mourned as rain poured upon their crops, and the sunrise was blocked by storms of a thousand years. Atsushi left behind many, friend and foe alike. Many had cried, others had left him, some had been silent, and few could leave that night. Atsushi left behind many. Although only one went with him.
There's a voice that comforts me.
When Chuuya Nakahara died, the whole world mourned. They mourned the raging sea that would crash upon the shore and host life of many. They wept for something they could not understand, something as jagged as a puzzle and had a touch as soft as a porcupine. The world mourned as the blue sky was hidden by dark clouds that flashed gold and orange lightning rippled with thunder. Chuuya had left behind many. Some had mourned silently, most had wept, and few had stayed that night. Chuuya left behind many. Although only one went with him.
It's a voice of understanding.
Atsushi Nakajima's death was not peaceful. It was just as violent as the tiger inside of him. It left his wishes unfulfilled and his heart empty. He was betrayed by the world that never gave him a weeping chance. Atsushi's story would never be retold, and he would lie as a forgotten sunrise.
It's the voice of empathy.
Chuuya Nakahara's death was not peaceful. It created a crater in many people's hearts. It left his dreams untouched and ruined. Everyone around him betrayed him, and he was designed to be a monster, so he became one. Chuuya's story would never be retold, and he would lie as a forgotten evil.