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Staring at the floor in his bedroom is a surreal experience sometimes.
16 years old, finally learning how on earth to be a person, and it is going miserably.
His hands shake at his sides, cutting through the air as he turns and runs away from everything. His mind, his thoughts, his feelings, everything he thought he was before all this, follows him through town.
He tries not to think, he hates thinking. It's painful, agonizing. Incapacitating, sometimes.
The very concept of a thought sometimes makes him sick. So instead of listening and pondering every little morsel of being, he gets up and runs away. No room for imagination, no room for sadness or anger or any emotion really, just the two steps of it all. One foot in front of the other. Keep your pace steady, keep your arms moving, don't speed up too much, you'll get your throat too dry. Don't go too slow, it'll barely count as a run. Just keep it going, keep it patient while you can.
This time though, it doesn’t work, and he winds up right back at the source of it all.
Kamiyama. Those cool brick walls, scaling up several floors, holding little moments and big problems, classes and friendships, the anxieties and the joys, everything held within those damned walls. He takes a few heavier breaths in, calming himself, and starts heading up the emergency outside stairs up to the second floor, with the window he found out could be opened.
The stairs ring angrily with each step, the grating bouncing against the stone and into his ears. His sweaty hands grasp the railing, breath trembling as he ponders everything. Is this really okay? Is this actually what I should do? Who am I kidding, he was right. I am stubborn, and I am unlovable, and all the time I have should be for others rather than myself. I don't need time to relax, I need to use my time to give everything I have to others.
He walks through the empty halls, listening to the careful echo of his footsteps against tile. He feels a knot building around his heart, a lump rising into his throat. His breath shudders, the pain he feels ricocheting everywhere. The coolness of the empty building becomes all the more apparent as it sinks into his bones, a shiver writhing through his nervous system.
The roof door opens with an angry screech, hot sun and concrete wrapping him in a suffocating embrace. It's here, against the wall, against the floor, his head in his hands and his ankles crossed where he breaks and sobs. All the agony from the past two weeks, all the anger, everything he didn’t say, it explodes out of him in an unfortunate supernova of tears, angry crying, screaming and breakdown. His chest shakes and trembles, his eyes stinging, his throat becoming raw the more pain he emotes. He pleads with everything and nothing at the same time, crying out for things to go back, desperate to fill this lonely hole in his heart.
Chances are, nothing will.
Toya's words struck and stung him as though said by an emotional dagger. His want and need for more, his disappointment at the lack of time they had together and parts of Akito's very existence. His temper, his time constraints, his propensity to be always in a ‘go go go' kind of mindset. Akito wanted to yell at him to go date fucking Kohane or Rui or someone else, to try and protect or defend his existence and his habits, but he didn’t. When the time came, he rolled over and sighed, agreeing they would be better off going their separate ways. And that's how it ended. They hadn't spoken in a few weeks, each trying on their ends to reach out or offer an olive branch, but it went nowhere. This would be better for both of them.
So now there he was, sitting alone on the roof, grieving everything. Grieving the things they did, the plans they made. Each date, each conversation, each performance. Every second they knew each other was wrapped up in anger and loss. He wholeheartedly understood that this was all his fault. “Akito Shinonome is not made for love,” he thought, remembering taunts from middle school when people saw his aggressive side. And they were right. He isn't. He isn’t made for casual, and he isn't made for soul crushing devotion either.
He stands and walks over to the fence. The heat beats down on him, the burning on his open skin. His fingers meet the warm fence, his mind is calm, for the first time since they split. He's sure of what he's doing. He drags himself up the fence, not caring how the wire digs into his fingers and his feet.
One, two. Left, right. Up. Again and again, moving each side of his body in unison. There's no doubt or anything. He pulls himself over the edge, climbing down onto the small ledge, his breath beginning to shake as he looks down. It's so high. But there's no doubt in his mind, at least not in that moment. He closes his eyes, takes a breath to calm down, and steps forward.
He falls.
It feels like he's falling forever, his entire life flashing then. He sees what could have been, the small joys and glories that he could grasp, and his eyes fly open milliseconds before he hits the ground, his possible final words and thoughts going through his mind.
I don't want to die.
A crack rings out, and he goes numb. The world stops turning, he stops breathing, everything goes quiet. The sun brightens more and more as muffled screams and pleas ring out around him. His world goes black, violet and blue hair over him being the last thing he sees.
Rui sits in the waiting room of the hospital. His left leg is bouncing like mad, eyes squeezed shut, hands clasped together over the lower half of his face. He's never been religious, his logical and machine-like brain always discounting lots of it as just a story, but here he was, murmuring a prayer to whatever god exists. His hands are shaking. His lower lip is quivering as he mumbles, the material of his clothes is too itchy, the elastic around his wrist is too tight, the bandages on his knees are uncomfortable and the stinging hasn't stopped. He takes a shuddering breath in, then lets it out, opening his teary eyes slightly as he stops talking.
That day, he was running errands for his mother as she had another long day lined up for her, being a nurse and all that. She had sent him to get groceries, mostly foodstuffs, some cleaning supplies and tidy the house and his garage. He was on his way back to the store, as he'd forgotten to grab a new package of paper towels, when he decided a faster way would be to go around Kamiyama, cutting through the courtyard.
It was there, he was almost on the opposite side when he heard a sickening crack.
He stopped in his tracks and whipped around, noticing ginger hair on the ground, unmoving. The world felt like it had stopped turning for a second and he forgot what he had been heading to do, letting out a blood curdling scream for someone to help, booking it over to his friend, dropping to his knees and desperately calling emergency services. He tried to explain everything, beg for an ambulance and comfort a barely alive Shinonome all at the same time, pulling his underclassman onto his lap to try and give him somewhere more comfortable to potentially pass on. His pleas turned to choked sobs, holding his friend close, gently stroking his hair as his breathing slowed. Blood was running out of the ginger's nose, no doubt from the altitude change and the shock to the nervous system once hitting the ground. His eyes closed as Rui got more frantic, practically screaming for paramedics to hurry the hell up.
The sound of sirens and footsteps broke him out of everything, as he looked up to see several people bringing over all the necessary equipment. The ambulance doors were wide open, the interior as welcoming as a minimalist ghost town. He loosened his grip on Akito's torso, letting him be placed on a gurney, multiple tubes and attachments placed on his limbs. Rui stood up and followed everyone in, only answering questions pertaining to Akito. He did eventually text Mizuki to get Akito's sister to give Kamishiro some information like his healthcare card and his birth certificate. Aside from those moments he didn't speak, stuck in a daze whilst processing what he had just seen and heard.
They arrived at the hospital, paramedics carting a somehow still alive Akito into surgery to fix up his leg – one staying behind to explain that he was alive from his right leg taking most of the fall, followed by his left ankle and his right arm – and Rui was brought to a different room to get his knees fixed up. He had scraped them when initially getting to Akito, apparently wearing ripped jeans was not the move to make that day.
All that brings him back to him finishing his prayer to any deity that existed, sitting, trembling in the waiting room. He wasn't about to lie to himself and say he didn't get it, because he did. He does understand the want to end it all. All the pain and suffering becoming too much, way too much. Needing an escape, seeing death waiting with open arms and preparing to jump in. It isn't foreign to him, depression and being suicidal. Though, he will say, jumping was the last thing he would think Akito would do to get rid of the pain. Moreover, he assumed it would be something more private, like drowning or a stab wound. Oh well. He just wants him to survive, make it out of this, heal and get better.
A door opens next to his head, his mother walking out of Akito's designated room. Unbeknownst to Rui, hours have passed since the moment, and his friend has been out of surgery, received a cast and had been awake for a little over fifteen minutes. Rui shoots up and quickly walks into the room, his mom behind him.
Akito looks up as the door opens and closes, to see a familiar figure standing there, violet and blue hair. Yellow eyes, disheveled clothes and scraped knees. He barely has time to say something before he's wrapped in a hug, warmth emanating from the embrace. Tears threaten to spill from his eyes as he melts into him.
“I'm sorry,” is all he manages, his voice strained and upset. Rui shakes his head and rubs his back, quietly shushing him as one would comfort a child. He feels a hand on the back of his head, running through his hair.
“It's okay. You have no reason to apologize to me or anyone.” Ripped raw from screaming sobs, Kamishiro's voice is nothing far from a broken whisper. “You don't need to be sorry or say it or say anything.” Akito swallows uncomfortably, resting his head against his shoulder. Once again, he starts crying, desperate to stop but unwilling to end it at the same time. He feels safe here, for some reason. He's still doped up on pain medication, a doctor had explained everything to him, just how the breaks were distributed, the severity and a few other things, but in the moment, he didn't care about all that. He just cares that he fucked up, he tried to kill himself and he failed.
“I'm a damn failure, Kamishiro.” He says eventually once he's stopped crying, sitting in his bed with Rui in a chair at his side. “Feels fitting that I couldn't even kill myself right.” He tries to laugh, but the supposed joke doesn’t land. Rui purses his lips, his scarred hands resting on the side of the bed.
“You looked like you didn't want to die, when you hit the ground.” The prodigy hums, his voice straining at the last part. Pain flickers in his golden eyes, reminiscing middle school.
“I didn't.” They both lean back, taking their own moments to think.
“Most don't. There's several studies and interviews with survivors or written statements in goodbye notes that prove that suicidal people don't want to die. Most just want the pain to stop, or the situation to stop and go away, and they tend to not ask for help.” Rui’s logical brain turns and turns, the wheels moving each part into place, finding the right words that could encourage Akito to get help. Proper help. “That's… what it was like for me. Is that what it was for you?” The ginger stays silent and nods, wiping off his face. “Can I ask... what you want to stop…?” He thickly swallows, looking away.
“Failing a bunch of classes, family problems, money troubles sometimes, exhaustion, splitting from Toya.” His façade of composure turns to tears once again. “I hate… I hate feeling angry and worthless and like a failure even though I know for a fact that I am one and there isn’t really much I can do about it.”
The beeping of the monitors in the room doesn't help how either of them are feeling. Pity, sadness, anger, regret, guilt, compassion, comprehension. It's there, and there's so much more underneath. Each of them are rethinking experiences they've had prior to this moment with depression, suicidal tendencies, and on one side, self-harm. He came out of it alright though. Calmer, healthier, all around just better. He thinks often of the things that could have happened if he did manage to go through with it. But here he is, sitting with a friend, each of them having survived.
“There will be something you can do about it, actually.” Rui begins, getting his attention. “They're gonna keep you here for a few days just to monitor you, and then there will be some mandated therapy sessions, I think it's once or twice a week if I'm remembering correctly, you'll have to organize a safety plan, and also because of how it… it happened, you'll definitely have to go to psychical therapy to get back into the swing of things.” He writes all of that down on a scrap piece of paper from a small notebook he carries everywhere in case of brilliant ideas. “There's definitely more in there that I'm not remembering but that's at least a starting point.”
“Okay.” He murmurs, looking up at the too bright ceiling lights. He squints, eventually simply closing his eyes to absorb the entire conversation.
“I can help, if you want. And Tsukasa. And your friends, too.” His voice is genuine, softer than it was. Still scratchy, still worn out, but comforting. Akito looks at him. His eyes are going glassy again.
“I don’t want to feel like this.” He whispers.
“I know.” Rui runs a hand through his hair, moving the once perfect strands out of place. “It sucks, feeling like that.”
“There's no… there’s no sciencey or technologically advanced way to fix it, is there. Nothing your stupid brain can make up in like ten days to magically get rid of depression.” He sighs, looking at his hands. The IV in his arm gives no consolation. Machines beep in the silence.
“If only it were that simple, my friend.” A soft smile rests on Rui's lips as he clasps his hands together. Scars merge together, old cuts from nails and screws and stray metal. People talking and walking outside of the door meets the machines. It's cold. It makes them each feel sick. A few memories on each side. Tetanus shots, sport injuries. A myriad of mishaps, none as big as this. Nothing is ever as big as this.
“I don't… I don’t know if I can do this alone.”
“Oh don’t worry about that.” His eyes flick upwards, meeting Akito's for the first time that day. Truly looking into him, not straying away from what he could find. “You've always got a place and a friend with me.”
Hours turn into days, then weeks, then months. Then a few years. Akito finds himself tackled by Ena, Mizuki, An and Tsukasa on his second day of recovery, welcoming it with open arms. The comfort is well received and well needed. A few times, he fantasizes about Toya walking through the door, hugging him and apologizing. But deep down, he knows that it doesn't work like that. Sure, word of the incident will travel around the school and even the town, how could it not. But there was no way, knowing Toya, remembering how they fought, that it would ever happen.
True to his word, Rui helps out where he can. Drives him to therapy when he cant walk in time, takes him to physical therapy, effectively drags him through both years, despite graduating and getting into the college of his dreams to pursue film and robotics. Akito's lowest grade at graduation? A 67 in math. But that’s because math is stupid and some stuff he just couldn't get his head around, no matter how hard he tried. As for Toya, well he doesn't know. They hadn't spoken since they split. Chances are, they never will. Akito learned to live with it. He'll find someone special one day, to settle down with, to own a few cats and make pancakes and drink coffee in the morning and laugh at bad movies with. He knows it will be wonderful.
He ends up a groomsman at a few weddings, that of An and Kohane, that of Rui and Tsukasa. He sees Toya at both, but says nothing, instead engages in pleasant conversation with the rest of his sister's musical group. He and Asahina truly get each other. Yoisaki is one of the kindest souls on the planet.
He eventually secures a place in his school of choice, to go on and study music, as well as a few culinary courses just for fun. It's stressful, but he's thriving. He gets along with his roommate, he finds the classes enjoyable, actually understands them (and is glad to never have to look at another stupid quadratic formula as long as he lives) and is getting good marks in them.
Today, he wanders Shibuya. His hands in his pockets, his shoelaces in a double knot, his hair barely reaching his shoulders. He has a bit of a limp from the fall, of course he does, but he's learned to live with it. He turns a familiar corner, looking at Vivid street, and the houses lining the way to the schoolyard. His schoolyard. Kamiyama High comes into view, its once towering floors seeming so small in contrast to the big city skyscrapers of his surroundings back near his college. The fence is taller, it looks more difficult to climb over. That may be a matter of perspective though, he hasn't climbed a chain link fence since that day and doesn't intend to try. He sighs, looking out at the busy road around him. Daylight sinks into his skin, accentuating his eyes and his freckles. He's glad to still be living.
20 years old, wandering his old hometown.
20 years old, looking at what could have been the site of the last day of his life.
But he stands there, not the same as he was but still alive.
The world didn't end when he was 16, and it has no chance of ending now, as the sun starts to rest on the horizon, bathing everything in gold.
He forgives himself, for everything he's done to himself.
One day, years and years ago, he assumed his future would be daunting, impossible to manage, barely conceivable to reach. And yet, there he stands, looking it right in the eyes. Every day has led to this moment. Every hardship, every failure, every disappointment. Every victory, too, every test passed, every book finished, every friend gained, every moment smiling. Everything.
The world never ended, at any age. Not 12, not 16, not even 20. And neither did he.
“Isn't that wonderful", he thinks.