I long to be like you
Lie cold in the ground like you
There's room inside for two and I'm not grieving for you
I'm coming for you.
What's the point of living anymore? Eiri asks himself. All he seems to do is fuck everything up. He can't make any relationship he has with anyone work. His father can't possibly be any more disappointed in him what with his notorious reputation with all the women that he slept with. All of which only desired his body, and his money.
He's a horrible role model for his younger brother, Tatshua. He's not that nice to him either. Every chance he gets, he critiques Tatshua on everything he does. He finds faults in him and points them out all the time. For a while, he couldn't figure out why he was so naturally mean. Then he spoke to his therapist about it, and she had helped him see reason.
It was him. It had nothing to do with Tatshua and everything to do with him, and how he feels about himself. He has so much self-hatred bottled up inside, and it just comes bursting out at random intervals; when he least expects it. Outbursts that make him hate himself more and more each time he explodes.
He treats his older sister, Mika, poorly as well. She annoys him to no end with worry. Unfortunately, she knows what happened to him all those years ago when he was such a jovial, naïve youth. Knowing that, she has proven to be overly protective of him, checking up on him constantly in person and on the phone. The more worried she gets, the more she touches base with him.
He's not worth the worry. Why can't she see that? Why can't anyone see that?
Why can't Shuichi see that?
His heart feels like it's suffered from a massive beating. Eiri had kicked Shuichi out of his apartment a few days ago, and he's been feeling like a bastard ever since. He's really done it this time. It was the right thing to do, he knows that, but Shuichi's devastation flashes into his mind every time he remembers what happened.
He tossed all his things into the foyer and hurled insults at him. Everything he had to do to get Shuichi out of his life for good. A big part of him wants this to have worked. He wants Shuichi to hate him, to curse his very name, and regret the day that they ever met. A much smaller part of him – the one he's squashed down for so long – doesn't want his words to drive Shuichi to loathe him. Sometimes, Eiri wants to start over and have Shuichi know the real him, the one that's been covered by the pen name that he adapted when he first became an author.
Yuki, the name of his mentor when he was 16 years old, the very mentor that he had fallen in love with. A one-sided love that chipped away at him and broke him entirely on that fateful day seven years ago.
His eyes water. It hurts to remember. Yuki had asked him to meet him at a certain address late in the night. At the time, he had stayed with his sister's husband, Tohma, in his apartment in New York. He'd never had a problem with breaking curfew until then. Eiri had no qualms about meeting his mentor. He had been stupid and didn't suspect that anything bad would happen.
He trusted Yuki with all of his heart.
Tears pour down his face. He trusted him. He loved him. He looked up to him. He wanted to be him.
Yuki didn't love him. Not in the least. Why couldn't he just tell Eiri that he hated him and be done with it? Why did he have to break his trust like that? Had he only been worth ten bucks to Yuki? Had Yuki hated him so much that he just wanted to tear him apart?
If he did, he got exactly what he wanted.
Eiri groans as a migraine comes on. It only worsens when the phone begins to ring. His answering machine picks up, and he doesn't know why he bothered having one in the first place. He barely returns any calls.
"Eiri?" It's Mika. Eiri sighs, exasperated. Why does she even bother? "I know you're there. Pick up the phone right now." He just wants to be left alone. "I want to talk to you." Why? There's no point. "Eiri?"
He doesn't know what possesses him to get up and pick up the phone. "Hey," he greets, blandly.
"Don't you 'hey' me. I've been calling you all day. Do you have any idea how worried I was?" Mika asks, softly.
He exhales, deeply. He doesn't need this right now. "What do you want?"
"I wanted to check up on you. How are you feeling?"
Ah, so it's one of those calls.
He hangs up.
He doesn't need her pity.
He doesn't need anyone.
He walks over to his desk, and picks up the photograph he and his mentor took in the park all those years ago.
"Yuki," he sobs.
Eiri needs to see him, to ask him about what happened to make him snap that night. Why he had to kill Eiri's innocence. Most of all, he wants to tell him how sorry he is that he put an end to his life, the very life that aspired him to want to become a novelist, the very life that he tried so desperately to replace.
"No more," he says under his breath.
He ambles to the cabinet and retrieves the bottle of pills he stopped taking months ago. He goes to the kitchen and takes a cold beer from the fridge.
"I want to see him." He tells himself, despairingly, making his way over to the couch. With his thumb, he pops the cap off the beer, hearing it clatter onto the floor. "I want to see you, Yuki." He sets his drink onto the coffee table, holding the bottle of pills with one hand, pressing the palm of the other on the top, turning the lid to the side.
The phone rings.
He ignores it, pouring the pills into his mouth, chugging them all down with gulps of beer.
A/N: Hey, everybody! Hope you're all good and well. :) I've been wanting to write this story for quite a while, and now here it is. I do hope that you all like it so far. Please let me know what you think, and thank you for reading!