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Giyuu sat frozen in his room, the color draining from the world around him. It felt like everything had turned to static: a black and white world that was muted and suffocating.
His ears rang, drowning out Kyojurou's voice echoing from the computer screen. The words blurred together, creating futile noise that disgusted him.
He tried to stand, lungs burning for air, but his legs buckled beneath him.
Kyojurou's voice kept cutting through: loud, relentless, annoying. Giyuu killed the call with shaking hands.
His phone buzzed on the floor, Kyojurou texting again, over and over. He kicked it aside.
Just a few moments ago, he'd dialed Sanemi. But it wasn’t Sanemi who answered.
It was his mother. She sounded like her usual self. Folding laundry, picking up Sanemi’s phone, asking how he was, and saying she'd pass him the phone in a second.
The sound of door hinges creaking open had made itself clear when a sharp gasp sounded. He heard the phone drop to the ground, and possibly someone else too, which in this context he knew was Mrs. Shinazugawa dropping to her knees.
This unexpected series of sounds was followed by a scream so raw, so animal, it carved itself into his bones.
"My baby boy! Sanemi!"
The floor tilted. The walls closed in. Giyuu couldn't breathe. He didn’t know what happened.
But deep down, he already did.
He could feel his stomach churning, a cold sweat breaking on his forehead as he tried to take a few steps towards his bedroom door, to try and get out of the airless room, to try and form a cohesive thought in his head.
Giyuu dropped to his knees as he could hear Mrs. Shinazugawa scream and cry for her son. He opened his mouth and inhaled, but it was useless.
He took the help of his table to stand up before booking it from his room, through the hallway, and down the stairs. He tripped and tumbled down, Tsutako rushing to help him up.
"Are you okay?"
No response.
"Is something wrong?"
Giyuu tried opening his mouth, but it was to no avail. His pupils had shrunken and shook as he tried to tell his sister anything.
"Giyuu! What's wrong!?"
Although he never in his life thought he'd do it, he—gently—pushed her away before half-putting on his shoes and running out the door.
Getting to Sanemi's house was as easy as counting to ten, engrained in his mind, although walking there would usually be a calming experience. Today was different. He ran. He saw the tree with some yellow fruit he'd kept as a landmark in his head and turned to the right when he finally saw that familiar doormat. It wasn't unique, but it was worn down, and he could never forget it. After all, he'd seen the thing practically every day since he was a child.
He knocked on the door before realizing it wasn't locked and opened the door—struggling as he opened it.
He could hear the loud, bloodcurdling cries of the woman who's raised him, alongside his own mother. Contrary to before, Giyuu stumbled into the room where he finally saw it. His best friend, swaying gently from the ceiling fan, a noose cinched tight around his neck, his mother kneeling on the ground, wailing.
It felt like a shot through the heart.
He fell to his knees with a loud thud, Mrs. Shinazugawa looking back to notice Giyuu and the phone on the ground, which still showed that Giyuu had been on call for the past twelve minutes.
She looked at him once, with tear-filled eyes meeting his own glassy, contracted blue eyes. Giyuu tried to get up, stumbling over to Sanemi's mother.
He and Sanemi's mother sat there for hours upon hours until everyone came home.
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The funeral was held in a few days, and Giyuu attended with his whole family. For some strange reason, Giyuu couldn’t cry.
It wasn’t as if his whole world wasn’t shattered, but the tears just wouldn't come out. Maybe it was the disbelief—disbelief in the fact that someone he loved so much had died so young or the shock that Sanemi would kill himself.
While everyone was leaving the cemetery, Giyuu stayed.
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"And you're sure you'll make it home fine? Should we stay too?"
"I'll be fine, Tsutako."
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Giyuu stayed there, standing still. He didn’t know why he wanted to stay there, especially if he wasn't going to do a damn thing. His mind kept drifting to how he wouldn’t cry.
"I mean, my best friend just died, and I can't cry? I can't shed a single tear? Am I some heartless piece of shit that I can't even cry?"
He stood there, unmoving. The wind was blowing hard in his hair, and rain clouds started to form above his head. Giyuu sat down next to the gravestone. He tried to open his mouth, but it felt as if a barbed wire wrapped itself around his neck. Giyuu still talked, though. After all, talking to Sanemi was usually easier than talking to anyone.
"You'd think this gravestone is useless, since you never really liked the idea of being buried, wouldn't you?"
This is stupid. He's dead.
"Why am I asking? It's not like I'll get a response."
Giyuu felt his throat start to close up, but still talked. He needed to get things off his mind.
"Sanemi.. Why did you do it?"
A deafening silence filled the air—replacing the usually laughter-filled atmosphere that would warm his heart.
"Was there something going on in your life?"
He sighed. This was pointless.
"Why wouldn’t you tell me? We tell each other everything, so why not whatever this was for?"
Giyuu's words were from his heart. The rain had started to pour, and he knew he couldn't stay for much longer, since the forecast that day showed that the wind would pick up and there would be a storm that day. At least Sanemi was still in his heart.
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The next day was awfully quiet. Giyuu walked downstairs to get some breakfast, but it wasn't like normal. There was no one talking, and his parents were looking at him with those sad, pitiful eyes. He grabbed his food and went upstairs, back to his room.
Hours passed, and Giyuu's food was stone-cold and he felt like the air in his room was stale, even after opening a window. Everything felt weird.
He looked at his phone. He picked it up and opened the gallery, scrolling for an album appropriately named "Nemi," filled with photos of the two of them together, but the majority of the photos were just Sanemi.
After scrolling through for a bit, he closed the app and saw his messages app, the app he never wanted to open again. He hesitated, before opening it, and seeing Sanemi's chat at the top, with a red error icon next to it. When he clicked, he swallowed the air in his mouth, as if bracing for impact.
"I've been meaning to tell you something for a while now, Sanemi."
A message that had never been delivered.
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The bell rang, and usually Giyuu would get up to peak down the stairs, to see who it was, but he laid there in his bed.
"Giyuu, come downstairs!" His sister called for him, but he didn’t respond.
"Giyuu, someone’s here for you!" His sister yelled again. He buried his face in his pillow, not wantiing to get up.
Thumps from the stairs became louder and louder when Tsutako opened his door.
"Giyuu, Genya's here."
His ears perked up and looked behind him, to see Tsutako standing in front of Genya, who held a letter in his hands.
"Genya? Shouldn’t you be home?"
"I was sitting in Sanemi's room, and I found this on his desk. It's addressed to you, so I thought you deserved to receive this letter."
Genya walked to Giyuu, both of them still looking tired. He handed over the letter before stepping back. He looked as if he knew something, but wouldn’t say it himself.
"I think he'd want you to read this privately, so I'll leave now."
Tsutako and Genya left, closing the door behind them as Giyuu stared at the letter. He was contemplating opening it. Reading it could be freeing, but what if he didn't want to be free so soon?
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Hours passed, but that letter remained in between Giyuu's fingers. He decided it was finally time to open it.
His fingers trembled as he opened the letter.
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He began reading, the narrator in his head sounding just like Sanemi.
"Dear Giyuu,
We were waiting for our bus, like we did everyday. Together. That's when you saw her walk by, and when I saw the light in your eyes shine brighter than ever. I watched your whole demeanor change as she sat down on the seat next to you. That girl wasn't even waiting for the same bus as us, she was waiting for bus 205, and we, for 326. You told me that you didn't even notice her there until she sat down.
But I did.
She's beautiful. Her wide-eyes, the same colour as mine but just.. better. Her clear skin. Her perfect outfits. The way her perfect bob sways in the wind when she lets it down. I can't even blame you for falling for her, I would have done the same, but I fell for someone else at first.
I still remember that night, last new year's, we were coming back to the bus stop just a little tipsy and talking, when you pulled me in. I didn't expect it, but I didn't not like it. I thought that maybe, just maybe, that meant you liked me too. I never had the courage to ask you if you did after that night, however. You're straight, and I thought I still was.
I hated being in love with you. I really did, and I still do, as I'm writing this letter. "Why do I love you?" is a super loaded question I'd ask myself, but I never really found an answer. Maybe it's your "natural charm," or whatever fourteen year old girls use to justify their crushes. Maybe it's the bond we shared, but that's the same reason I never told you.
I was scared. What if I told you I was gay, let alone in love with you, you'd leave? It's not really the greatest imaging of you, but just as usual, I was overthinking. But I didn't want my nightmare to become a reality.
I only found out I was in love with you that day, after our walk home when I missed the bus because of you. I'd never do it, for anyone, even my brother, but that day I did it for you. I felt my heart beat faster everytime you laughed or smiled with me. I started being late a bit more often for the bus back home from that day onwards.
Sometimes, I wished for the worst upon the short, gorgeous social-butterfly you fell in love with. But I'd retract my prayer from god. I wouldn't do that to her, or to you. You're eyes were brighter whenever you saw her, so I wouldn't want to cause her or you hurt. That's just not who I am.
I was perplexed, conflicted. I wouldn't have minded falling in love with you, but it meant that I'd be falling in love with a man. I didn't mind that either, but I knew everyone else would. I remember freshman year, when the kid from section B came out. Everyone made fun of him, and worst of all, I was one of them. I couldn't let anyone know I was in love with you, except for Genya, and my mother. Dad would kill me if he found out, which is why I'm writing this letter right now.
I don't know how, but my dad found out that I'm not straight.
I never thought I'd be writing a "final letter," but here I am, alone, in my room, shaking.
I think it would be better for me to leave before my dad comes home.
I love loved you, Tomioka, and I'll love I loved you until my heart stops stopped beating.
Your best friend,
Shinazugawa Sanemi."
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He finally finished reading the letter.
Giyuu's hands trembled as the letter slipped from his fingers and floated to the floor. His vision blurred and for the first time since that night, the tears finally came. Heavy, choking sobs escaped him as he curled in on himself, fists pressed to his chest like he could somehow hold the shattered pieces of his heart together.
"Sanemi," his voice broke. "I loved you too."
His voice cracked as he spoke, knowing that it was too late.