Chapter Text
Everything will be fine if you close your eyes
When you lay your head down at night, don’t forget my goodbye, no
You’re falling farther than before, let me know.
If it’s beautiful when we fall, when we go,
Then I don’t want to live much longer.
”Hey, Inumaki?”
Yuuta‘s whisper is so soft that Toge barely catches it. Something about his voice sounds different than usual. Yuuta’s words typically carry a nervous lilt the way he carries his katana—unsure and hesitant. For once, it’s completely devoid of any emotion. He sounds hollow. The darkness that blankets Toge’s room is usually comforting, but it’s beginning to feel thick and oppressive. He can’t catch a glimpse of Yuuta’s expression no matter how hard he tries.
”Takana?”
”Do you think…” From his spot on the floor, Yuuta shifts uncomfortably, like he’s suddenly regretting the decision to ask. “Do you think, if I tried to…I mean, now that Rika is gone, would she…” He trails off, like he’s not sure how to phrase the question. He stays silent for a few minutes, but Toge can tell that he’s not done. It’s okay. He has all the time in the world for Yuuta.
A few minutes later, when Yuuta still hasn’t spoken up again, Toge offers a quiet “Mentaiko.” It's the tiniest encouragement to keep going, but Yuuta takes a deep breath, like he's steeling himself. Toge can easily picture Yuuta wringing his hands together, a nervous habit he never dropped.
”Do you think Rika would stop me if I tried to kill myself again?”
Toge lets the question linger in the air for just a second before he’s shifting over in his bed to make room.
“I just don’t think I should be alone tonight,” Yuuta had said by way of explanation when he showed up in front of Toge’s door at 3 am. Toge hadn’t questioned it. Now he doesn’t need to.
Yuuta slips into Toge’s bed, despite his earlier insistence that being on the floor would help him feel grounded. Toge pulls him close and runs a hand through his hair, distantly wondering if he could be as good at grounding someone as the literal ground. He still hasn’t answered Yuuta’s question. It hangs between the two of them like a noose. The silence is heavy.
Toge doesn’t know the answer. But he feels Yuuta’s shuddering breaths against his chest and knows he doesn’t need to.
“Tsuna mayo—sujiko,” he promises.
It doesn’t matter—if she doesn’t, I will.