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Usually when Toya woke up, the room would be drenched with an inexplicable gloom, consuming him whole and tinging his heart. A blue that swallowed his heart and dragged him under, kept him under the surface. Drowning. That’s what it was.
His bed was a prison, the blankets tangled around his limbs and the mattress sinking him further.
People always told him to face the day, get out of bed and be productive, that’s what’ll help. The problem is though that he physically can’t. The shackles of the duvet chained him and his resolve failed. He can’t. He just can’t.
Even if he did, menial tasks were too difficult, every step felt like there was lead glued to the soles of his feet, his heart weighed him down.
It was more than what his father said was being lazy. It was more than what his brothers said was being difficult. It was more than what his mother said was being a little sad.
It was illness. It was horrible. It made him feel so lonely.
Sometimes, he couldn’t even do the things he loved. Playing arcade games became tiring and monotonous, and singing didn’t connect like it usually did, that factor alone was enough.
He never had anyone to help him through it. His family all thought he was overdramatic, a brat who just wanted attention, and really, could he show his friends this ugly side to him?
Toya wished he could tell someone, but every time the topic came up, he clammed up and backed out, waving it off as nothing, even if it was consuming his whole body and preventing him from really being himself.
Toya just wished he could be normal, no illness, no invisible force weighing him down.
Just to be free
-
Toya woke up, bracing himself for a cold, too big bed, too much space for his frail, lanky body.
Instead, he felt a weight resting on his chest, not too heavy that it was suffocating but enough for him to know it was there. It radiated warmth and heat.
He could still feel the motivation slip away from him (he tried desperately to grasp it back, but to no avail), yet instead of being apathetic, sad, and lonely, he was just apathetic and sad.
He pried his eyes open to see soft tufts of orange, and a pari of arms encircling his torso. Slowly, he could feel the constant rise and fall of his chest, breathing in sync with the body around him.
Akito Shinonome was a strange guy, yet he was one of the best people Toya had ever met. He lit the room up, his voice enchanted thousands, including himself, and the way Akito would look at him would just make him melt.
He really loved Akito, how could he not?
He wished he could be better for Akito. To get better, so Akito wouldn’t have to deal with the looming sadness that always radiated off him. He hated to think that his own misery could affect Akito. A look of sadness didn’t suit him.
Akito shuffled around and yawned, snapping Toya out of his trance. Akito blinked his eyes open and stared sleepily at Toya, hazel eyes locking with his
“G’morning Toya…” He slurred, rubbing his eyes and shifting so he was fully facing Toya.
“Morning…” Toya whispered back, unable to find the energy to properly greet him.
Akito ran a calloused hand through his hair. Toya immediately leaned into the contact, touch-starved and craving a warmth to fill the ache in his heart.
“I’m gonna make us breakfast, kay?” Akito removed his hand from Toya’s split dyed hair and sat up, only to be stopped by a pair of hands clinging onto him.
“Please,” Toya mumbled, hands trembling as they gripped the white fabric of Akito’s shirt. Please stay longer.
Akito froze for a second, then chuckled softly before lying back down and placing a gentle, chaste kiss on his lips. Toya simply buried his head further into Akito.
“Okay, we can sleep in for a bit more, you okay?”
Toya wanted so badly to let him know, to tell him that he was drowning, that he could barely make it by each day with out his essence enrapturing him and pulling him closer. That if Akito were to leave, he’d be nothing, he wouldn’t be here.
He was pathetic. Everyone else could wake up, everyone else could be normal. Why was it so difficult for him?
“Toya?”
He buried his face into Akito’s shoulder, hoping it was enough. Akito traced patterns across the scarred, heaving back of Toya. Akito could feel each laborious breath he took, each time how his arms tightened.
“You don’t need to tell me, but I’ll do anything I can to help okay? For now let’s sleep in for a bit, I’m sure the others won’t mind.”
“Sorry,” he murmured, laying back down on bed, exhausted from who know’s what.
“Shh, let’s lie down.”
So they did, and even if Toya’s mind was dissipating slowly and his emotions slipping further away, he felt content, to just lay under mountains of blankets with a light shower of kisses blessing his face.
He’d be okay.
-
Most mornings tasted of melancholy, numbness, and an ache to be okay.
Today’s morning tasted of syrupy pancakes, lazy sunshine, and Akito’s lips.
And if the next morning was difficult, and if it tasted of the same depression he’d felt for years, he would be okay.