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Akito found himself unable to sleep for the sixth night in a row.
He'd always had problems falling asleep and staying asleep, but this was different. Usually he'd crash after a few days without rest, much to his dismay, but with this —every time he tried to sleep it was like his body was physically rejecting it. He wasn't sure why. He was sure his teammates had noticed.
"Akito, you good?" An finally asked—he could tell she'd been holding back her words for a few songs now. "You sound tired."
"Do I?" He pretended he hadn't noticed. Of course he'd noticed. He heard every mistake he made, all the time, and they stood looming over him like skyscrapers—a constant, a reminder. They weighed on his shoulders and his chest endlessly. "Sorry. I—"
He'd started the sentence without knowing where it would end. Another mistake. Now they'd worry about him.
"I think you should take a break," An suggested, though Akito knew it wasn't actually a suggestion, and with a sigh of feigned annoyance he sat on the bench nearby and watched Kohane, An, and Toya as they performed the song over again.
Why did it sound so much better without him?
He turned over, laying on his back instead of his side. Now he was staring at the ceiling instead of the significantly more interesting wall.
…
"Nope," he muttered, pulling himself into a sitting position and grabbing his phone. It lit up at the contact, letting him know it was about three in the morning.
If I'm gonna be awake, I'm gonna be doing something productive.
Standing, he opened his closet and pulled a hoodie from inside. He practically threw it on and moved to open his bedroom door.
It creaked. Shit. Should have thought about that. Another mistake.
How many are there to be circled out?
Ena cracked open her bedroom door. "Akito? The hell? Why are you up?" She looked him up and down. "Where are you going?" she whispered.
"Out," he whispered back, and began walking down the hallway.
"It's three in the morning! " Ena whisper-shouted. "You're not going anywhere at three in the morning, what, are you crazy? You've got school in, like, four hours—"
"I'm not gonna be long. I'll buy you something from a convenience store if you want." He didn't stop walking, and he could still feel Ena's eyes on him as he descended the stairs. He only heard her hesitantly shut her door when he knew he was out of her sight.
Another mistake.
- - -
He hadn't particularly wanted to go there, but he always found himself drawn to the place no matter where he went or what he did. It was now close to four in the morning and Akito had ended up on Vivid Street. Fortunately for him, he knew his way around here perhaps better than he knew the back of his own hand. Unfortunately for him, someone was always awake on Vivid Street.
He pulled up his hood. That'd probably be good enough. Right? Right.
He wasn't sure why this was the place he always came to whenever he was feeling out of it. The way just standing amidst the lights and colors made one feel unreal, not fully present in their own skin (for better or for worse,) certainly didn't help with that specific trouble. But generally it was a place that brought more positive memories than negative ones, and so it was where he was.
It really was just misfortune that night, the way Akito only seemed to be able to recall the negative experiences.
Absentmindedly, he glanced to his left. Recognition flared in his mind.
An and Kohane like to sing on this corner.
He remembered… a few months ago, walking through here. An and Kohane had been performing with a small crowd gathered around them. They sounded… good. Really, really good.
He stood there uselessly for a few moments, just staring at them in awe. When had they become like this? When had they gotten so… so much better?
It wasn't like he was jealous—really, he wasn't, he was happy for them, but—
I'll never be like you. I couldn't become anything like you.
Why is everyone better than me?
He'd thought about joining them, but…
They wouldn't want me. And he'd torn his eyes away from them and kept walking and no one had even noticed he was there.
Hold on, why am I thinking about this now? Akito tore his eyes from the corner for a second time and walked back in the direction he'd come from. He hadn't come out here to think about his many, many, many shortcomings. He'd come out here to stop himself from thinking at all.
Wasn't that selfish, though? Isn't he doing a disservice to his teammates by refusing to acknowledge that there was a problem with the way he was performing? By refusing to acknowledge that he wasn't good enough? Is escapism selfish?
I really don't get it, this contradiction—
More importantly, what are his other options, anyway? Ask for help? He'd rather die.
He'd left the area, but his thoughts still lingered on his teammates. He could hardly see what was physically ahead of him, only the image in his head. Kohane and An and Toya on a stage, performing the same song from practice that day (or technically the previous day) with everything they had and they were so—
They were so happy. So colorful, so vivid . So impressive, so good, so undeniably… talented.
You, who stood next to me, are getting farther…
…
It always simply came back to talent for Akito. Talent he didn’t have. Talent he had never had—talent he had only seen in others and often wished selfishly to take, even if just for a few minutes, a few seconds —even if just for a few seconds he wanted to be like—
Kohane has talent. Kohane Azusawa is undeniably, irrevocably, sickeningly talented. If she wasn't, there'd simply be no way for her to have caught up with—no, surpassed the rest of Vivid BAD SQUAD as quickly as she had. She gave a solo performance to rival Nagi's at RAD WEEKEND, she was the girl everyone could rely on—the group's constant—despite her inexperience. Kohane Azusawa has talent.
An has talent. An Shiraishi is undeniably, irrevocably, sickeningly talented. Not only that, she has the work ethic to go with it, and she's been raised with music all her life. She's lucky, sure, in more ways than one, but her skill isn't just circumstance—she puts so much genuine effort into everything she does. She's like the living embodiment of the group's enthusiasm, their passion—she's like a personified ray of sunshine, a sunflower facing the future. An Shiraishi has talent.
Toya has talent. Toya Aoyagi is undeniably, irrevocably, sickeningly talented. Akito barely has words for him. What words could possibly describe someone like Toya? Not only was Toya naturally good at nearly everything he did, he'd also been strong enough to overcome nearly everything his life threw at him. Stronger than anyone else. He was the strongest person Akito knew. And even though he hadn't been there that night like Akito and An had been, he was as enthusiastic about their dream as they were, with the means to back up his confidence in their goal. Toya Aoyagi has talent.
It's so much easier for the talented.
It's selfish, but Akito wishes things could be easier for him, too.
Instead, Akito is—
Akito Shinonome is undeniably, irrevocably, sickeningly useless.
A smile crossed his face as he continued to walk down the street. He couldn't place exactly why.
Those sombre dreams may be fading out of view, but you should continue to chase them. Akito wanted nothing more than for his teammates—his friends, as they would call themselves and as he wanted to call them, despite knowing that he didn't deserve to—to succeed. With their every pursuit and in everything they did.
And he knew they would. They were skilled, they were hard-working, they were talented. They were deserving. They deserved everything they had. They deserved everything they would have, someday in the future when they achieved their dream. His dream that he felt was slipping farther and farther away from him every day.
There's no way you could be that, right?
Did he actually deserve that dream in the first place if he didn't have the skill to even get close to it…?
He regained vision for the most part, but everything seemed so much darker. He was exhausted, and he knew he should at least try to get home and get some sleep even if he was well aware it was futile—but he didn't want to feel real yet. At least not for a little while longer.
He almost laughed. Yeah, that's definitely selfish. Another mistake.
His body stopped moving on its own as the last of the image cleared away. He looked up, also involuntarily, and recognized the place he'd stopped at yet again.
Oh, this is where I normally practice. He almost started walking again before he hit a realization.
Oh, this is where I normally practice! I can— I can— I can make up for some of this if I spend some time here tonight before I go home, right?
For the first time all night—no, for the first time in nearly a week—he was energetic, and he rushed over to the sort of raised area nearby, and he opened his mouth. Another mistake.
Holy shit, why did he sound so bad? Actually, why was he surprised? He hadn't slept in six days. Of course he didn't sound good.
Wait—how different was the way he sounded now from the way he normally did? Was he always this bad?
I'm sure it'll always just be me.
"No, this isn't right," he muttered. What the hell is wrong with me? Why can't I—it shouldn't be that hard. I have to do at least this much or I—
He dropped to his knees.
Back then, I'm sure it was there… when was it that I…?
He was…
He was ruining everything. He was making everything so much worse in every single way possible, just like he always did. Why was he always like this? Why couldn't he be like his teammates or like anyone else? Why couldn't Akito Shinonome just be someone else? That would be easier, too, but wishing for things to be easy is selfish.
Is even your identity a sham?
It was selfish to wish for such things, but that didn't stop him from waking up every day disappointed that he was still just himself. There is nothing in the entire world that Akito Shinonome hates more than himself.
Do you want love so much you'd resort to theft?
No, when did he get to be like this? Sitting all alone, feeling bad for himself instead of doing something, instead of being productive. For better or for worse, Akito never knew when to quit. Not with music, anyway. He'd drive himself into the hospital trying to get better if he had to, without so much as a second thought or a single regret. But now he was giving up. And by giving up, he was…
I have to stand up. I have to—they need me—
Who's "they?" Not Vivid BAD SQUAD, that was for sure. Was there anyone who needed him? He tried to think, but came up short.
It wasn't supposed to be like this. What was it supposed to be like, then?
"I'll never be good enough for you, will I?" he whispered, unsure exactly where the question originated from. He didn't even know who he was talking to. It could have been his parents, his friends, his sister, perhaps even himself. It could have been anyone. It didn't matter who the question was directed towards as long as he knew the answer—and there was nothing he had ever been more certain of.
No. The finality of that answer crushed him. That feeling was what got him to stand, stumbling away from the area, trying to find somewhere, anywhere to go—but nowhere was welcoming, not of someone like him. Not of someone who only ever hurt others, the way he did.
He still remembers.
"I seriously misjudged you!" An had been furious. Not only that, he'd looked at Kohane, someone who was clearly trying her best and someone who was clearly serious about what she wanted, and told her she didn't have what it took to do… much of anything. And when Toya was clearly struggling with his father and the influence of people around him, what had Akito done? He'd yelled at him. And hit him. Twice.
Why did he only ever make things worse? Why was it so hard for him to just be a good person? It wasn't hard for Kohane. It wasn't hard for An. It wasn't hard for Toya. It wasn't hard for his teammates to be good, respectable people. It wasn't hard for them to do well at the things they set their minds to. But instead of being able to advance, they had to pick up Akito's pieces all the time…
And even after all that, his teammates still wanted him? Why? He didn't understand. Unless they were lying, and they hated him. He wasn't sure if that idea made him feel better or worse.
I'll be hurt, and I'll hurt others.
Why couldn't he understand anything? Why couldn't he even understand his own thoughts?
What are you playing at? Who are you trying to be?
His vision cleared—it had blurred? When?—and in front of him was—
An alleyway. A place to rest, maybe, since he was so far from home now—and there was no way in hell Akito was going to Ken's to ask for help. He'd bothered the Shiraishis enough already—far too many times they'd wasted their time worrying over him, and with the memory of An's angry expression now fresh in his mind once again, he couldn't risk seeing her or talking to her until he was more… stable. (He didn't want to use that word. He was stable, he was fine.) He turned the corner and into the alley.
Tired to his very core and only now registering just how much his entire body hurt, Akito slid down to a sitting position and leaned his head back, resting it on the wall behind him. This place felt familiar. It was Vivid Street, yes, obviously, but something about this specific alleyway…
Oh, right. He remembered now. Of course this memory, too, would resurface here. It wasn't like he'd forgotten it, though. He never would, never could. He'd just pushed it to some faraway corner of his mind, preventing himself from thinking about it. Selfish. Another mistake.
This place was…
"Shinonome-kun, you're the least interesting of the bunch."
"I can see them becoming respectable performers in their own right…"
"We shouldn't be losing here…"
A dry laugh crackled out from his throat, amplifying the pain tenfold. It was a weak sound. It was the last thing he remembered before his eyes closed. He was angry— furious with himself for being relieved.
I just can't win, can I?
…
The future I wanted to change has come.
The moonlight is merciless.