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The word is whispered around the funeral home. In the following week, it pops up around the neighborhood in hushed conversations like a weed. It’s a mutual understanding that hangs in the air of the middle school when Hiiragi returns to school.
Suicide.
People murmured the syllables like saying them quietly would save them from the responsibility. Like their floaty tones would make the consequences any less severe.
Though, Hiiragi guesses that he understands. The moment you regard the word as a possibility, it attaches to you like a leech. Even if you manage to pull it off, the memory of how it felt, that sweet surrender, never leaves.
And it’s fucking terrifying. Because Hiiragi knows, god he knows , that there’s no coming back from a decision that final. He knows how Shizusumi’s hand was uncharacteristically cold the day Hiiragi stood on the guardrail and he saw the plea to stay in his otherwise stoic expression.
But he also knows how warm the sun felt on his face, a heat different from the intense burn of stage lights. He knows how the wind rushing past his ears was like freedom, a sound unlike any music he’d ever heard before. He remembers how he was comforted by the certainty of the fall, the simple solution to the chaos in his head.
Hiiragi walked home hand-in-hand with Shizusumi that day. They were silent the whole way back, which was normal on Shizu’s end, but Hiiragi kept his mouth shut out of fear that the smallest sound could break the fragile tether keeping him grounded. The next day, Hiiragi greeted Shizu with a smile and pushed that evening to the back of his mind. And as the days turned to weeks, and weeks to months, Hiiragi didn’t go back to the guardrail.
At least, not in person. Despite his wishes, his dreams would drag him back to that day. How he spent that school day glancing to his left and being greeted by a distinct absence of badly bleached hair. That feeling of loss built up until Hiiragi had to go find him. But the only way to find someone who’s dead is in memories. So Hiiragi got up on the guardrail like he used to back when they were all together, back when they were ok. He looked at the houses below the overpass and smiled at memories of a simpler time. Then his gaze drifted to the horizon and a thought surfaced from the depths of his mind, coated in sickly sweet deception, there’s another way to find a dead person .
Hiiragi reaches for the horizon.
Sometimes he jumps. Sometimes he slips. Sometimes he can see the outline of Yuki’s back walking away in the glare of the setting sun.
In his dreams, Shizusumi never pulls him back.
Hiiragi doesn’t talk about the dreams either. It’s not like he’ll ever act on it. Besides, without Yuki around, it’s up to Hiiragi to be the sunny one. And it doesn’t help that their new (temporary) guitarist is Mafuyu’s emo-asshole boyfriend, Uenoyama. So Hiiragi spews inane bullshit while Shizu listens until Uenoyama interrupts to argue over some irrelevant detail and Hiiragi is fine. This is fine.
Hiiragi isn’t fine. He’s tired of pretending like he is. Tired of hiding how he really feels and teetering on the edge and waking up empty.
The moment syh exits the stage after their debut performance, Hiiragi embraces Uenoyama and Shizusumi with unsteady arms. He’s never been afraid to cry and he’s shed his fair share of tears since Yuki left, but it's always been loud. Cries of pain and desperation resonated in his chest like piercing feedback from an amp and hoarse sobs tore their way through his trained vocal cords. But the tears slide down his face silently this time. There’s pain, sure, but it’s bittersweet. He’s finally found Yuki, and this time, Hiiragi is finally ready to let him go. He’s so grateful for Uenoyama, not that he’d ever say it to the guitarist’s face, but Hiiragi hopes he can feel it in the tremble of his muscles.
Hiiragi is caught in the whirlwind of the post-show agenda after that and in between greeting producers from the label, talking to the media, and Mafuyu’s fucking proposal, Hiiragi doesn’t get a chance to think until he’s laying on Shizusumi’s bed at 4 am. He rolls over to face his boyfriend who’s toeing the razor’s edge between sleep and wake and smiles.
“I’m so happy, Shizu,” Hiiragi breathes into the small space between them.
Shizu makes no indication that he heard the words, but Hiiragi notices the small twitch of Shizu’s eyelids giving away that he’s awake.
“I mean, we’ve been dreaming of debuting since high school,” Hiiragi continues, “I wish Yuki could’ve seen it.”
Shizu opens his eyes at the last statement to search his boyfriend's eyes. The jealous habit would probably take time to grow out of, but Shizu was the only one in Hiiragi’s heart and he’d wait however long it took for Shizu to believe that.
Seemingly satisfied with the sincerity in Hiiragi’s expression, Shizu makes a noise of agreement.
“I’m glad you pulled me down from the guardrail that day,” Hiiragi admits.
The words make Shizu’s eyes widen imperceptibly, at least, for all but Hiiragi. Shizu makes an expression that asks if Hiiragi is really going to talk about this, so Hiiragi breaks the silence, “I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you, so thank you.”
“Hiiragi,” Shizusumi says his name like a warning and a consolation at once. They both know that Hiiragi doesn’t just mean their careers when he says ‘here’.
“I have dreams about that day,” Hiiragi suddenly blurts out. At Shizu’s questioning gaze, Hiiragi elaborates, “I dream that I jumped. Or slipped. Either way, I was falling. And-” Hiiragi pauses to clear his throat, fighting back the tears that are threatening to spill over, “When I woke up, I was disappointed,” he confesses no louder than a whisper.
Shizusumi finally wraps his arms around Hiiragi and holds him while sobs wrack the vocalist’s body. Shizusumi was never one for placating words, but his body was a rock, never budging in stability and accepting everything thrown at him. So Hiiragi holds on tight, tethering himself to his boyfriend and grounding himself in the here and now.
The two sit in silence for a while until it’s surprisingly broken by Shizusumi, “The next time you feel like you’re falling, tell me,” Shizu squeezes Hiiragi’s hand, “I’ll pull you back.”
The words are final. Not even a promise, but a fact. And Hiiragi had no reason to doubt it, after all, Shizu would never let go of him.
With Shizu’s reassurance, Hiiragi falls asleep in strong arms. In his dreams, he runs along the horizon with his hand in Shizu’s.