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Haruki wasn’t stupid. Sometimes things go over his head, but he was by no means oblivious. In a world where he was surrounded by geniuses, being average felt like constant rope tied around his neck tugging and dragging him forwards. If he didn’t scramble and devote every second of his waking hours to be better, he’d get left behind.
And Haruki was always the one being left behind.
By no means was he drowning in this pressure, but envy is a poison that creeps up. Creeping and enveloping him when he hears the passion in Mafuyu’s voice, sees the hardwired resolve of Uenoyama, and more recently, witnesses the dedication of Akihiko.
When Haruki opens the door, his new roommate is there practising. Perhaps it was that he was clouded by the sweet rose tinted glasses of a past summer day, but that look in Akihiko’s eyes when he let his bow run across the strings tugged at something in his heart.
Pulling and pulling, gliding across strands of nylon. Further and further, sinking into the refined melody. Lost on the action, lost on the sound.
Haruki settles down in his room, listening with a wall in between him and that of what he longs for. Because these geniuses, drunk on their passion, are like stars shining in the sky. Far and out of reach. Something to be admired, treasured and supported. Always shining brighter and brighter. Burning passion and desire to fuel their starbound journey, going further and further. Out of reach.
But he loves them, wants to see them flourish. Because people like them will soar past expectations and bounds. People like them-
People like them will change the world.
But not Haruki.
And Haruki is alright with it. Most days.
Because he loves them. He wants their worries and sadness to melt away, and wants their life to be anything but the suffocating emptiness that hangs in the air when he’s finally pulled away from his phone trying to sleep. He’s proud, so proud. Filling his days and mind with things that keep him focused on these wonderful people that deserve the world. Because that’s all he can do. All he’s good for.
So one particularly quiet day when he gets home and hears the now familiar sound of a bow being pulled against strings, he pivots right around and leaves before even opening the door. The keys are cold in his hand. As he grips it tighter, he can slowly feel the sharp ridges of the keys dig into his hand as he walks away.
Maybe he shouldn’t be running, but it’s the only thing that takes the edge off of the whispers running wild in his brain.
Ah, isn’t this a little self-destructive? The rational part of his mind duly notes. Even so he lets himself fall into the comforting empty of quiet apathy, letting the rough metal edges bite into his palm.
He needs to get away. Away from here. Anywhere but here. A stone settles in his chest, filling the empty space where air should have been. Gravel scuffs against the soles of his shoes as a soft buzz takes over and quiets every thought.
When the fog finally dissipates, he finds himself leaning against the wall in an alleyway. He huffs to himself as he feels a familiar mistress of envy crawling up his back and digging its claws into his bones.
Akihiko doesn’t need him. The brick wall dragged against his back as he slides down. Akihiko would be better off without him.
He returns home.
But Akihiko came to find him. Came to him with all his desperation and vulnerability laid out on display in a glass vase, and despite tar pooling in Haruki’s throat and acid on his tongue found that he could not say no. Because the love he kept for Akihiko was the only selfish thing he allowed himself.
Then appear the phantom hands on his chest, ghost touches on his waist trailing further and further down. The lingering feeling of Akihiko’s lips on his made his heart soar and sink in tandem. With Akihiko’s body pressed against his, Haruki felt his heart burning and freezing at the same time. He watches Akihiko’s eyes redden and crystallise, and wants nothing more than to wipe away the unknown pain that painted his face. Akihiko doesn’t love him. Akihiko wants him. Akihiko was touching him. Akihiko was touching him. Akihiko wouldn’t stop.
I love you. He wants to say.
I want to make you stop hurting. He wants to say.
Take me, use me, as long as you stop looking at me like that you can take all of me. His mind sings.
And then it was gone. The phantom touches linger, warm hands don’t.
Something tilts.
Then tightens.
Haruki leaves.
And shatters.
He drags himself away with every step. He wants to do nothing but curl up and disappear. But Haruki was used to being left behind. Used to giving everyone pieces of his broken heart. So he collects the small shattered pieces and leaves the largest one in his own apartment with Akihiko. Because the love he kept for Akihiko was the only selfish thing he allowed himself.
Jealousy burns. Burns like poison spreading through his veins, burns like the traces of heat on his lips and waist. Haruki is not a good person. His selfish thoughts burn, and for once he sets his thoughts alight and watches the remnant ashes crumble, free of this wildfire.
He thought he was over this. Why can’t he just get over this? He let Akihiko back, but his love was simply a poison that sank deeper and deeper into his bones.
But he wants, oh so desperately wants. And there he was, driven into this corner by passion, with love coating the edge of the blade against his neck, steps away from falling down the edge of desire he is left with only one choice.
"You always cut your own hair don't you, Take-chan?"
There with pieces of himself scattered across the floor, he starts to put himself back together.