Chapter Text
Kanade sat on the edge of her bed, her room dimly lit by the soft glow of her computer screen. The cursor blinked mockingly at her, a reminder of the melody she couldn’t quite capture. Her hands trembled slightly as she reached for the small blade hidden in her drawer. It was a habit, a dark secret she kept buried deep inside, but tonight the doubts were louder than usual.
“Why can’t I get this right?” she whispered to herself, her voice barely audible. The pressure from her music, from her expectations, from everything - it all weighed on her like an invisible chain. She needed to feel something real, something that grounded her in the pain she could control.
The door creaked open, and Mafuyu stepped in, his tall frame casting a long shadow across the room. He had a key to her place now, a sign of how close they had become. His eyes, usually cold and distant, softened when he saw her. “Kanade? I texted you earlier. You didn’t reply.”
She startled, quickly hiding the blade under her sleeve. “Mafuyu… I didn’t hear my phone. Sorry.”
He closed the door behind him and approached slowly, like he was afraid of scaring her away. Mafuyu knew her too well, knew the signs. He sat beside her on the bed, his hand gently brushing against hers. “What’s wrong? You look… lost.”
Kanade bit her lip, tears welling up in her eyes. “It’s stupid. I just… I can’t compose anything good lately. What if I’m not talented enough? What if everyone realizes I’m a fraud?” Her voice cracked, and she pulled her knees up to her chest.
Mafuyu sighed, his own scars hidden under his long sleeves. He had his own battles, nights where the emptiness inside him led to the same sharp relief. But right now, she needed him. “You’re not a fraud, Kanade. Your music touches people. It touches me.” He took her hand, interlacing their fingers. “Remember that song you wrote last month? It helped me through a rough day.”
She looked up at him, her eyes searching his face for any sign of lie. “Really? You’re not just saying that to make me feel better?”
He shook his head, his expression earnest. “I wouldn’t lie to you. Not about this.” Gently, he rolled up his sleeve, revealing the faint lines on his arm - old and new. “See? I understand. When things get too much, I do the same. But you… you make it bearable.”
Kanade’s breath hitched as she traced one of the scars with her fingertip. “Mafuyu… I didn’t know it was still happening.” She rolled up her own sleeve, showing her matching marks. “I feel so weak sometimes. Like I need you to tell me I’m okay over and over.”
He pulled her into a hug, his arms strong and steady around her fragile form. “Then I’ll tell you as many times as you need. You’re okay, Kanade. You’re strong. You’re important to me.” His voice was low, soothing, like a lullaby.
She clung to him, burying her face in his shoulder. The blade forgotten on the bed, she let his words wash over her. “Promise you’ll stay? Even when I’m like this?”
“Always,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. “We’re in this together.”