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Is it the weather that affects people’s moods, or is it the placebo effect of thinking that weather has any dictation over how they feel? Kanade ponders that to herself as she walks through the snowy roads, a small bag in her arms that tremble from both exertion and exposure to the elements. She’s never been one to consider herself emotionally or mentally weak, but she second thinks that as she feels progressively gloomy the farther she walks.
Is it the snow that’s doing this to her? The deep-rooted tremble of her bones that only emphasizes her already frail and anxious figure. Maybe it’s snowing because she feels this way. She immediately takes back the thought, angry at herself for thinking for even a joking second that the world revolves around her. She always has to make the world revolve around her, doesn’t she? That’s what she’s doing right now. The snow is merely there, and her feeling sick to her stomach is completely separate from that.
Maybe the tears come easier the further the temperature drops, maybe the pit in her chest digs itself deeper when she’s met with the chilly air instead of the gentle heat on her already sensitive skin. This is of no matter to her, no time to think about stupid things like how weather makes her feel when there are people suffering that she isn’t helping.
She continues walking, unsure step after unsure step despite following the trail she knows so well at this point. Her first stop of the day is the cemetery, the location that is probably only watered by the liquid that falls hurriedly from her eyes. She’s sure her mother’s grave would have dried out if not for her endless mourning, but at least that meant that she was being of use to someone.
It feels like she’s been walking for ages and she’s hardly halfway there. She wishes for a moment that it was a little closer to her residence, that she didn’t have to do this grueling walk that was filled with nothing but her reminiscing on the good times her and her parents had together before she had ruined everything. What life could have been if she had minded her business and stayed curious. She dreamed of it last night, just as she always does the night before visiting her mother. She smiled in a gentle yet friendly way, her voice was calm like the winter air, but was unshakable and happy in every way imaginable; it was a all a far cry from the hastily constructed smiles that she hopes fit on her perpetually sorrowful face and wispy voice that makes it so every word could be mistaken as a cry for help.
Maybe it was a cry for help considering the fact that, just like every other time, she woke up with a pained gasp and tears streaming down her face. No matter how much air she attempted to force into her lungs, they were never full, aching and burning and begging for more. It mirrored her desperate pleading for love and affection that would never be satiated because of the sheer amount of time she had gone without anything to keep her afloat.
She needs to stop thinking about this. Kanade feels the tears that were welling up in her eyes begin to sting because of the cold air, shakily wiping her face before continuing to walk. 3 blocks left. The trek would be short enough for someone who was even slightly in shape, but of course Kanade isn’t competent enough for that. She knows well that she isn’t athletic, but she pushes on, if not for herself than for her mother.
2 blocks left and all she can think about is when she was little. Her mother’s warm arms enveloped her with such care and grace. She can’t even begin to imagine the things she would do to have it all back, to restart for just one more chance to make things right. She knows she could do it, she just needs the chance. One chance to go back to when all the pieces of her life were put together in one big happy puzzle.
But she knows deep down that the pieces are scattered. One piece has flown off the table and sits somewhere on the floor, never to be seen again. Another piece is being held idly in someone’s hand, not gone like the other piece but not within Kanade’s reach, almost like she’s being taunted with its presence. The final piece has been left alone, sitting on the table that slowly collects dust because of inactivity.
Starting the last block and seeing her mother’s gravestone come into view, tears immediately make themselves known as she forcefully bites her tongue to keep from sobbing. She can’t possibly disturb other people that might be here grieving, their loss is certainly more fresh and more painful than hers. She doesn’t realize that her pace has picked up until she’s in front of the grave, hands shaking so violently that even Kanade is a little surprised.
She lets the bag slip from her hand where it gently hits the grass, followed by the less gentle thud of her own knees when she follows. The snow is freezing on her bare knees, the legs she couldn’t bother to cover with anything other than her usual shorts, but it gives her a physical sensation to focus on. Kanade has done the routine, she’s not unfamiliar with her usual course of actions. She’ll talk to her mother a little, try and update her on what’s going on in her life, then inevitably break into some variation of soft sobs and apologies for not being stronger.
Kanade really wants to do the same this time, choking back the lump in her throat, but she can’t bring herself to speak. One tear involuntarily escapes her eye, then one more, then a couple more as she sits there silently. The tears flow without much noise, only small sniffles and slightly panicked breathing. Even in a place of mourning and sadness Kanade will absolutely not allow herself to cry.
It’s her fault that things have ended up this way in the first place. What right does she have to release her pent up feelings when they wouldn’t exist without her interference? Her meek cries sound like that of a child embarrassedly crying when things don’t go their way. Maybe, Kanade briefly thinks, it’s the child version of herself who never got to cry or grieve like this, who was dragged from one reason of sadness right into another and was never able to properly confront her own feelings.
The more she thinks about her young self, the more it hurts. The pit in her chest has continued digging deeper, inch by agonizing inch, making her feel like she’s being ripped in half. Her trembling has worsened, her head bowed as her arms struggle to even hold her up off of the cold ground. The snow she’s kneeling in is melting and only making her even colder, almost like a physical demonstration of her heart freezing over.
She lets her tongue out of the grasp of her teeth, tasting the faint metallic flavor that spreads through her mouth as the tension eases. Her hands try desperately to find purchase in the ground beneath her, only crushing the snow and eliciting a pitiful sob.
No, no no, she can’t cry.
No matter what she does though, the tears don’t stop. The consistent pitter patter of water hitting the snow is barely audible, but she hears it all. She hears how the wind blows past her, how her shaky breaths have a wheezing undertone, how the snow squishes as she shifts around on her knees that have long gone numb at this point. The tears are of endless supply, like a magician pulling rope from his pocket, except this time it’s Kanade pulling the endless ropes of her despair that hold her together like an unstable rope bridge that’s ends have begun fraying and knots have loosened from years of wear and tear.
Kanade clumsily forces herself up and grabs her bag from the ground, the white fabric slightly greyed because of the moist ground. Any skin from the knee down is an ugly red, completely cold to the touch, and void of most feeling. Kanade ignores it, though, figuring that legs that are capable of walking ought to do their purpose. It’s not the first time she’s treated her body like a machine, what’s so different this time?
Next stop is the hospital, about halfway between her house and the graveyard which would explain her choice of visitation order. Now that she’s started her journey she begins to doubt herself, feeling the ache of emptiness and exhaustion wash over her. Everything hurts, she’s already drained, half of her body is nearly unresponsive, but she continues walking. She promised herself, her mother, and her father that she would visit both of them today. If only she had brought water to replenish all the tears she had cried out.
The walk to where her father is turns out to be much less eventful than the one to the cemetery. Her brain is clouded by the fog of grief, rendering her nearly incapable of even forming a coherent thought, much less mulling over it and hurting herself in the process. She’s somewhat grateful that she can’t think because not thinking is a lot more pleasant on her psyche than forcing herself through an irritating monologue that does nothing but enhance her already obvious self-hatred.
She stands outside the hospital doors awkwardly. This too is unfortunately a place she is painfully familiar with; the nauseating smell of antiseptics and blindingly bright light is sure to overwhelm her senses the second she enters the building. She can’t let people see her so visibly distraught, it wouldn’t be good for her father’s reputation. She makes an attempt at a calming breath, shaking all the way through it but eventually exhaling. Her sleeves wipe down the dried tear tracks to make it so they don’t shine under the hospital light, finally taking steps forward and passing through the doors.
Her moves at concealing her sorrow don’t seem to be succeeding as well as she hoped because the regular nurses look at her with the same pity they always do. If anything, it looks amplified this time. She talks to the front desk lady, checking herself in professionally and politely as she always does. She makes sure to smile when it’s appropriate, thanks her, and begins walking to his room under the guidance of a nurse.
With all of her focus directed towards appearing normal, Kanade forgets the fact that she has to listen and realizes that she has accidentally been ignoring the nurse calling out to her for what was probably a long and awkward 30 seconds.
“Ms. Yoisaki? Are you alright?” The nurse’s voice is kind but obviously tinted with worry for the young girl in front of her. Kanade quickly smiles and nods before speaking herself.
“O-of course I am. Sorry, busy day today.” She winces as her voice cracks and comes out unnaturally hoarse, only continuing to give her pain a physical form. She looks up at the nurse nervously, meeting her eyes and knowing that the nurse had obviously heard the tremor in her voice as well.
“You really don’t look okay. Do you want to go to the lunch room before seeing your father? We could–”
“No.” Kanade's voice speaks definitively and harshly. She glares at the nurse for a moment before realizing her mistake.
“I’m so sorry. That sounded so rude. What I really meant was that I just need to see him right now. I.. haven’t been having the best day. Please excuse my bad manners.” The nurse seems to relent at seeing the genuine remorse that paints Kanade’s face. The only thing that Kanade thinks is that the nurse must already know what’s troubling her, feeling herself shrink down at the realization that someone will always know how imperfect she is no matter how much she tries to pretend she’s fine. It says it all on file; comatosed father and deceased mother, a lonely child that comes to every hospital visit with an emptiness behind her eyes that sends chills through the nurses.
Nothing can scare them more than her poker face, though. How hard she tries to seem put together when her world is falling apart. Her unchanging face when her own father regarded her as a stranger and spoke to her as if they were meeting for the first time. The nurses all watch with careful eyes, observing for any crack in her demeanor that proves she’s human. Her pain is thinly veiled, obvious in the ways she shakes and how her face always looks like it’s freshly cried. It hurts to see, but there’s nothing they can do except be there.
Because of that, the nurse simply sighs. As much as it hurts to watch Kanade go through the same inevitable heartbreak every time she steps in that room, she understands the faint beating of hope that Kanade’s heart holds. The small chance that one day she walks in there and he calls her by her first name. The possibility that her father beckons her over for a hug that she hasn’t felt in so, so long. That hope is not just stored in her heart, but it’s what keeps her heart beating at all.
“Don’t worry about it, Ms. Yoisaki. His door is right here, take your time.” The nurse sends her off with as warm a smile as she can, hoping that it can lessen the blow of yet another let down at least slightly. Kanade smiles back with forced warmth, opening the door next to her and walking in. The nurse sighs and mutters under her breath, “Poor girl.”
Inside her father’s hospital room, Kanade walks with bated breath as she approaches the hospital cot. His eyes are open, facing the window away from the door, seemingly unaware of Kanade’s presence in the room. To her left is an empty vase on an otherwise empty nightstand, to which she moves quickly and methodically, the action drilled into her muscles from being repeated each visit. From the bag she pulls a single flower, glimmering under the light from the ceiling. The flower is as gorgeous as she remembers, the white contrasting the deep shadows that the several ridges of the carnation make. The light green of the stem is plush and cold on her fingers that have been gradually warming from the hospital’s heater.
Her father shifts around, turning to face Kanade just as the flower falls into the vase with a soft plopping noise. Kanade is again holding her breath, attempting to look at her father as calmly as possible while thousands of emotions mix around in her body all at once. Please remember, please release me from this curse.
“You’re not wearing scrubs.” His comment is said in a slow, mellow fashion. His mouth quirks up in a smile, the same joking tone that Kanade has longed to hear ever since the fateful night of his collapse.
“Yes, that’s right.” Kanade replies hesitantly. “I’m actually a visitor.” Kanade counts her lucky stars, begging with everything in her that her father could please just recognize her.
“For me? Haha, you flatter me. I’m sorry, I don’t remember catching your name?” Kanade’s heart drops, that pit from earlier no longer gradually getting bigger but turning into a crater that she can’t ignore. She has half the mind to grab at her chest like the emotional pain is causing her the pain of her heart actually having a chunk ripped out of it. It stings so bad, a fire engulfing any semblance of control she had over her emotions.
“Ah,” is all she’s able to get out after around a full minute of awkward staring. Her whole body is shaking, worse than any other time she’s had to react to his amnesia. The lump in her throat feels less like a pothole and more like a complete roadblock, clogging her throat so much that she struggles to circulate the air she needs to not completely pass out in front of him. She can’t do this. It would certainly be more distressing for him to witness her breakdown, right?
“S-so sorry. I guess I have the wrong room. Bye dad.” She watches him for a moment with sad eyes, lips quivering under the weight of her emotions, witnessing as his face shifts to one of confusion before realizing what she said. Both of her hands quickly come up to cover her mouth, turning around and rushing out of his room before she can even hear his response. She bolts in the direction of the nearest bathroom, thankfully close and fairly isolated because of her father’s position in the hospital.
10 minutes, not even 10 minutes she was in there and she had already crumbled under the pressure. Kanade leaned over the nearest sink, her hands clutching either side as sobs ripped themselves out and worsened her already sore throat. She quickly covered her mouth with one of her sleeves, again finding herself desperate to keep her volume down and not reveal the extent of her grief to anyone. She held her breath to try and stop the tears from flowing, halting them slightly but making her face red in the process.
Kanade hears the door click open behind her, signifying another person entering the bathroom. Her head whips around, red eyes wide open and internally hoping it’s no one she knows. Of course Kanade should have known that luck was not quite on her side today, though. Ichika walks in the bathroom, not realizing the predicament in front of her until she raises her head.
“Kanade-chan?” Kanade doesn’t dare speak, almost as if willing herself to disappear completely. Ichika looks beyond concerned, completely frozen in place by the door. Kanade tears continue to slowly trace lines down her cheeks, thankfully stopping their relentless assault because of the shock of the situation. The only thing she can force herself to do is shake her head, her speed increasing slowly as her head moves left and right. She acts as if pretending this isn’t happening will bring her wish to reality, taking off on her feet and rushing out of the bathroom. She vaguely hears Ichika call out to her, but she’s gone.
She quickly reenters her fathers room as stealthily as she can, breathing out a sigh of relief when she sees him in an unconscious state. She hates that she’s happy to see him passed out, but she needs to grab her bag and get out of here without breaking into a fit of tears again. With her bag held tight in her left hand, she descends the stairs and hurries to the lobby where she can leave and go home. As she reaches the last stair, she loses her balance and falls to the ground, her bag with her father’s spare clothes subsequently spilling out. She bites back tears at the stinging from her knees as she hurriedly shoves the contents back in the bag.
“Yoisaki-san?” A soft voice call from above her. You have got to be kidding me. From her awkward position on all fours on the ground, Kanade looks up to see Honami towering over her with a worried expression displayed on her face. Behind her, two people who Kanade can identify as Honami’s bandmates stand off to the side and look at the scene nervously. Footsteps from the corridor make Kanade turn her head away from the two of them, as well as partially out of shame.
“Guys, did you see Kanade-chan run through here? I just saw her in the bathroom and– oh.” Ichika cuts herself off as she looks at Kanade who is still on the ground with watery eyes. Before she knows it, Honami is kneeling down to help her put her father’s clothes back in the bag. Kanade scrambles to pull her own weight, sloppily putting wthe clothes in the bag alongside Honami’s neatly folded piles. She pushes herself up off of the floor, ignoring how red her knees have become once again and how she struggles to stay fully standing.
“Thank you Mochizuki-san. Sorry Ichika-chan, I have to go..” Kanade starts backing up and turning away before a voice calls her back.
“Wait just a second.” The voice is not the familiar one of Honami or Ichika, not even the voice full of bouncing energy that she normally gets from Saki, but instead a stern set of words from Shiho that Kanade can’t help but comply with. She freezes where she is, slowly turning back around to face them and suddenly feeling very small compared to them. She can’t tell if Shiho is eyeing her down out of worry or anger; you’d think Kanade would be a lot better at reading faces with how ambiguous Mafuyu’s face can present.
“You can’t be serious in wanting to just run off like that when you look.. well when you look how you look.” Shiho says in a weird mix of blunt and concerned. Her eyes still scan up and down Kanade’s figure, watching as she tries her hardest to stop shaking and her legs threaten to buckle from simply standing still.
“Come on Shiho-chan! Be a little nicer to Kanade-chan.” Saki pouts, looking a little less shocked and acting in a way that’s more normal for Kanade to see. Her relief is short-lived as Saki turns to face her. “Kanade-chan, won’t you talk with us for just a little? You know how Hona-chan can get, she worries a lot, especially about you!” Kanade’s eyes nervously look between them, their faces adorning various levels of concern, before she looks down at the floor.
“Okay.”
Saki’s bright chatter fills the hallway at a comforting level, making conversation with the other girls of the band as Kanade tries to ignore the several worried looks they keep shooting at her. They sit on benches, Kanade next to Honami and the other 3 girls squished onto a bench across from them because Saki insisted that they’d fit. Kanade takes her role as a listener, the role she always takes, and watches as Saki excitedly explains the plans she has for the rest of the day.
“I’m so happy to be discharged today. It seriously wasn’t anything major, but they wanted to do all these kinds of checkups and they took forever. I feel like I’m in tip-top shape, so ready to have fun today!” Saki talks and talks, sometimes earning a chuckle from Kanade as she listens to Shiho’s witty replies and Ichika’s own laughter. Honami has remained relatively quiet during the altercation, a fact that worries Kanade greatly, but she’d rather not comment on it in front of so many people.
Kanade’s body starts to relax and she remembers just how tired she is, running around and crying on and off for the past few hours. Her blinks get longer as her eyes threaten to close, head bobbing slightly forward before snapping backwards when she has a wave of consciousness. She realizes all too late that Saki’s chatter has stopped completely and that they are now sitting in silence. She opens her eyes in confusion and is met with not one, not two, but four sets of eyes burning into her.
“Kanade-chan,” Ichika suddenly speaks up, “What are you doing here today? I mean when I saw you in the bathroom I was.. surprised to say the least. Are you doing okay, do you need to talk?” Her voice is quiet and slightly apprehensive, talking to Kanade like you would a scared dog. Kanade flinches at the reminder of why she’s here anyway, how she had failed her father today just like she had years ago. She stands up quickly, dragging her bag with her, watching as all of their eyes widen and brows furrow.
“I-I think I’ve overstayed my welcome. I really do have to go, I have a friend waiting for me.” Kanade knows that Honami knows she’s lying. Mafuyu has cram school all day today and won’t be home until much later, but she hopes that the lie she spewed is enough to convince the other girls to give up on consoling her and rid themselves of the burden she is. She glances at Honami and instantly regrets it, seeing the face of a girl who is at her wits’ end.
“I know!” Saki chimes in excitedly, “Hona-chan, why don’t you just bring Kanade-chan home since you’re soooo worried about her. Of course I am too, but I think she’d be most comfortable with you.” Saki smiles smugly at her suggestion, proud of her own genius and problem solving without realizing one crucial factor.
“No,” Kanade says quickly, “You were just talking about how excited you were to hang out with Leo/Need after you left here. Mochizuki-san doesn’t have to walk me home, I don’t want to take her from you guys.” Saki looks at her blankly for a moment before the smile returns on her face.
“I knowww, but Hona-chan and I see each other basically every day. She looks like she’s dying to help you, it’s just how she is, and I kind of feel like I’m missing part of the story here so I think she’d be the best choice.” Her smug smile returns when she finishes speaking, reminding Kanade of Mizuki’s mischievous smirk a little. Kanade’s eyes turn to Honami again, whose eyes are now that of pleading. Kanade looks nervously back at the three other girls who don’t look the slightest bit angry, if anything a bit hopeful.
“If.. if you’re sure.” Kanade’s voice is quiet, painfully so, but all of their faces seem to loosen up at her words. She hates that she’s causing this many people to feel worried, so maybe just letting Honami walk her home and convincing her that she’s okay will do the group good. Honami can report back to them that Kanade is A-OK and then they’ll all be able to enjoy themselves without fear. In a very deep pit of her mind, Kanade distantly thinks that she also doesn’t want to be alone right now, but she won’t admit that to herself or anyone around her.
“Perfect! Well you can finish up your business here and the five of us can walk for a little while before you and Hona-chan split off to go to your house!” Saki’s usual energy is back and more vibrant than ever, a wide smile on her face where a concerned grimace once uncomfortably sat. The other members rise from their seats and softly converse while Kanade talks to the front desk lady once again. She gratefully accepts the bag of clothes for Kanade’s father and wishes her a good rest of her day, smiling a little less anxiously than she was when Kanade initially entered the hospital earlier.
Kanade reconvenes with the group and makes herself match their painfully fast pace as they walk. Saki is an unstoppable bundle of joy that jumps around, and laughs, and subconsciously influences the other Leo/Need members to hurry themselves to match her speed. Kanade struggles to keep up, but tries her best to keep it to herself. She hears the mindless banter between the four of them; Saki pouting at Shiho’s blunt but loving statements, Honami mediating when Saki pleads for her to “tell Shiho she’s being mean”, and Ichika laughing endlessly at their absurd interactions. The four of them work so well together that Kanade feels herself drifting into the background a little.
She watches from behind them as the group comes up on a fork in the street and they all suddenly turn around to her.
“Okay Kanade-chan, this is where we’re gonna split up. Hona-chan, make sure you take good care of her. I hope you feel better!” Saki jumps away to Kanade’s left, followed closely by both Shiho and Ichika who wave politely at both Kanade and Honami. Kanade stands there for a moment, watching the three of them walk away and not speaking. She feels Honami’s hand slip into hers, the warmth of her body spreading to the chill that overtakes Kanade’s. Kanade’s head turns to Honami, watching as her face turns from concern to embarrassment.
“Oh, sorry. I-I wasn’t sure if you were cold. I mean, you’re not wearing suitable clothes for this snow and you’re shaking pretty bad, although it could be because..” Honami trails off and doesn’t finish her sentence, although Kanade knows exactly what she means. Even if she could completely steel herself, Honami is so perceptive that she would likely be able to see Kanade’s struggles anyway. Kanade knew from the confusion in the rest of Leo/Need’s eyes and the unfiltered worry in Honami’s that she had already put the pieces together on why she was in the hospital.
Honami’s warm fingers twitch anxiously around Kanade's, both of their bodies still unmoving.
“I’m.. I’m not gonna make you talk about it. But if you feel like it would make you feel better to tell someone, I’m here. I know we have a professional relationship, but I’m also your friend, Yoisaki-san. I care about you more than I care about a paycheck.” Kanade’s hand tightens its grip without her realizing, Honami’s words hitting her harder than she wants to say.
“We can walk, and when we get a little closer to my house I’ll tell you. I think I need time to organize my thoughts.” The tension in Honami’s body dissipates as a small smile welcomes itself on her face.
“Okay, let’s go.”
They walk hand in hand for around half of the journey without any words. Kanade is still shaking, probably from the mix of cold and nerves surrounding a confession of the pain she’s forced herself through today. She pretends to ignore how Honami’s eyes flick towards her on occasion, patiently but eagerly waiting for Kanade to open herself up. Kanade takes a deep breath, feeling Honami’s hand as a grounding pressure that she relishes in for a moment before speaking in her still scratchy voice.
“I went and saw my mom today,” is all she starts with. Honami doesn’t look at her, doesn’t quickly urge her to continue, but the strength of her hand increases a little as they continue walking at a pace that even Kanade can manage.
“I don’t know why it hurt more than normal. I’ve been having these dreams–no–nightmares. It’s my life if I didn’t ruin everything. Where I can go home and talk to my mom, my dad, but then I wake up and I’m all alone.” Her voice wavers when she finishes her sentence, her heart twisting uncomfortably and her hand matching the pressure of Honami’s. She hates to dump this on her, but Kanade thinks she might actually burst if she doesn’t tell someone.
Honami’s brain is going haywire and she has to focus on not turning around and squeezing Kanade as tight as she can, squeezing the negative and self-deprication emotions out of her. How can she possibly think of herself as ruining everything? She knows enough about Kanade’s situation already to know that it hurts her, but it’s become obvious that any pain Honami has seen has only been a very small fraction of it. The Kanade in front of her is not the girl she works for, not the tired but lighthearted girl she sees once a week, but instead deeply wounded and vulnerable. She decides that she hates seeing her like this, waiting to hear the next words that leave her mouth.
“I cried a lot at her grave but still made myself go to the hospital to see dad. Maybe I was wishing that he’d see me today, actually see me, but of course he didn’t. I know I shouldn’t be upset when I did this to him, but I’m still lonely. I want to cry right now, but I don’t think I have any left in me today.” The emptiness hurts Honami horribly. She feels Kanade’s hand shutter in hers, her walking pace slowing a little to a speed that Honami quickly matches.
“I..I saw Ichika-chan in the bathroom. She walked in on me crying again, but I got embarrassed and ran away. I’m really sorry for interrupting you guys, I wish you could be hanging out with them right now. It would be a lot more fun for you than listening to me hurt like this.” Her words get more quiet as she finishes her thoughts, finally reaching a point where Honami thinks it’s appropriate to start talking herself.
“I don’t think it’s your fault,” is what Honami starts with, her tone steady and serious. “I’m.. so sorry.. about what happened to your parents. But I don’t think it’s healthy to blame yourself for it.” She watches as Kanade’s mouth opens, surely armed with a rebuttal about how this is all her fault and if she hadn’t acted like a child, when she was a child, that this wouldn’t have happened. Honami speaks faster, not allowing her to demean herself.
“What you did wasn’t deliberate, you did what a child thought would be best. You can’t beat yourself up about things like this. Sometimes, things are just going to happen, and the best you can do is be hopeful for the future. Forcing yourself to think about all the things you did wrong isn’t going to make it any better.” Honami distantly thinks about her poor decision making in middle school, how she had isolated herself from some of the only people who cared about her because of her own fears. Her situation is miles apart from Kanade’s, but she thinks the same lesson can be applied. Kanade’s mouth is no longer open, her eyes looking at the floor and watering as the two of them continue to walk.
“I know you rely on blaming yourself for explaining the things in your life, but sometimes you need help and that’s okay. You’re not a machine, you need love and support to function.” Honami watches Kanade’s shoulders shake, her grip becoming a little tighter, the words hitting her where it hurts. Honami sees Kanade’s house in her vision, taking it upon herself to continue guiding Kanade since she can’t bring herself to peel her eyes off of the ground.
“No matter how much of this you feel is your fault, I can assure you that you deserve to feel happy. So many people love you, me included, and you shouldn’t have to struggle alone when I’m more than willing to listen to you talk and hold you when you cry.” Honami looks left and right as they cross the street, coming up on Kanade’s house at an even slower speed as Kanade looks like she’s using all her remaining energy to hold her tears in.
“Please, Yoisaki-san, rely on me. I’m not afraid of your feelings. I want to see you get better and you can’t do it alone.” They reach Kanade’s front door and Kanade stops abruptly. Her trembling has increased tenfold, slowly bringing her head up and meeting Honami’s eyes. Her blue eyes are tinted red, pupils shaking from some strong emotion. Honami lets go of her hand, both arms moving around Kanade’s shoulders and holding her.
She feels Kanade’s momentary shock, the lack of arms wrapping around her in return, but she continues holding her. One of her hands stroke the back of Kanade’s head, hoping to offer her any comfort and break down the final wall that separates them. She smiles lightly at feeling Kanade’s arms finally wrap around her waist, clutching her cardigan with a force she didn’t know Kanade had in her. She hopes this is what Kanade needs to let her in.
Kanade feels the warmth that spreads through her body at Honami’s actions, the gentle hand that glides down the length of her back while smoothing out her hair. Kanade’s hands tighten their grip on her cardigan, feeling the roughness of the fabric on her chilly fingertips. A single tear moves down her face, and Kanade is sure that more would be pouring out if she physically had the energy to let it out. Her body is weak from the cold, from walking, from crying; she feels weak in general. She lets herself get absorbed in Honami’s heat, the gentle loving that she offers in the form of sweet words, a steadying hug, and the calm feel of her hands on Kanade’s feeble figure.
Honami accepts her melting body, pulling Kanade further into herself until they’ve practically become one. It’s cold outside, neither of them can refute that fact, but Kanade thinks that right now is the most warmth she’s felt in a long while. It isn’t the burning warmth of anger, or a physical warmth that she feels in her home, but a gentle warmth that radiates through her body under the compassionate embrace that Honami encompasses her in. This feeling is important, like the first day of spring after a particularly harsh winter, a good night of sleep after multiple restless nights, being loved unconditionally after years of living off of scraps. This is a feeling that Kanade wants to preserve, both for her sake and for the people she’s trying to help.
Honami eventually separates from her, only when Kanade allows it, and looks at her with unrelenting adoration in her eyes. Her hands are cold but welcome as they gently wipe the tear from Kanade’s face. Kanade looks up at her, matching her loving look with one of her own, the absolute despair in her eyes somewhat released and replaced with an amount of gratefulness that she can only hope Honami feels.
“I’m going to go now, Yoisaki-san. Please go warm up, maybe take a nap. You have my contact, feel free to talk to me. We don’t have to operate solely on work terms, you’re my friend and I’d love nothing more than to hang out with you casually. Take care of yourself.” Honami’s words are spoken slowly and laced with affection, drawing a small smile out of Kanade that Honami had been desperate to see.
“Thank you, Mochizuki-san. I’ll get back to you. See you next week.” Kanade’s words are no longer shaky, but instead bring a warmth to Honami’s soaring heart. She waves as Honami walks away, fishing the key out of her pocket and entering her home. Traveling to her room and lying down, she starts thinking about how she could turn this feeling into a song. A song of warmth, and acceptance, and support that she has never tried before.
The song can wait, though, since her eyelids are acting as if there are weights attached to them. After she rests up, she’ll start on this new song of happiness instead of continuing her other draft. She deserves to make music for herself sometimes, maybe she’ll message Honami and they can get together to listen to it once it’s complete. A smile spreads on her face as she falls into unconsciousness, a restful sleep compared to her earlier day of pain. Getting support feels good, and maybe it’s okay for the supporters to let someone hold them up every once and a while.